Robert Rankin - Nostradamus Ate My Hamster

“Good boy, now off you go.”

“Thank you,” said Russell.

They squeezed outside and Frank shut the door.

“That was close,” said Frank.

“Yeah,” said Morgan. “Thanks for putting my name forward.”

“You liked that?”

“No, I was being sarcastic”

“I’m going back inside,” said Russell. “If anyone has to go it should be me. Last in, first out.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Morgan.

“Oh, and why not?”

“Because I met Bobby Boy at lunch-time and he’s got himself another job.”

“Phew,” said Russell. “Then I’m saved. Thanks a lot, Morgan.”

“Least I could do,” said that man.

The voice of Ernest Fudgepacker reached their ears, it called, “Oh, and we’ll have another meeting this time next week and if business hasn’t picked up, I’ll have to sack somebody else.”

“Do you mind if I say ‘fuck’?” Russell asked.

“Grease,” says the old song, “is the word,” but this is not altogether true. In fact, it isn’t true at all. “Stress” is the word. Stress. Stress. Stress.

In movies, the hero or heroine is put under stress. Hollywood scriptwriters understand this. They understand this because this is what Hollywood producers demand of them.

“Is the hero being put under stress?”

The reason for this is because a movie must not be “plot-led”. The hero or heroine must take the initiative. Forces are up against them, but they must do all the doing. They have a goal that must be reached. You may argue that all movies aren’t like that. But they are, you know. Pick any movie you like and think about the plot and the hero (or heroine). It’s all to do with stress.

Hollywood thrives on stress.

Russell didn’t thrive on stress. Russell hated stress. Stress was not Russell’s thing. But stress he had and stress he was going to get lots more of.

He didn’t get sacked the next week. Morgan didn’t get sacked the next week, nor did Frank. Although Frank really deserved it.

The reason none of them got sacked was because something rather unexpected happened. And what this rather unexpected something was, was a rather unexpected upturn in the fortunes of Fudgepacker’s Emporium. And how this rather unexpected something came about was all down to Russell.

Who was under stress at the time.

“Under stress” and “at the time”.

We’ve done a bit about stress, so now let’s do a bit about time.

James Campbell once said (last week, in fact, at The George), “The future and the past have a lot in common. This being that neither of them actually exists. Which leaves us with the present, whose round is it?”

“Yours,” I told him.

“It was mine last time,” he said.

“But that was in the past,” I told him, “and the past does not exist.”

“Fair enough,” said James and went off to the bar.

Presently he returned, with just the one drink. For himself.

“Where is mine?” I asked him.

“Good question,” he replied, “I believe, at the present, we’re buying our own.”

An evening out with James is always instructive. Though rarely profitable.

But, time. Time is a bit of a bugger, isn’t it? It doesn’t really exist at all. It appears to be a series of presents, perhaps a never-ending state of presentness. But something must happen, because you definitely get older. Which is strange if you spend all your time in the present and never in the past or the future. Mind you, you have spent some time in the past, which used to be the present. But you’ve never spent any time at all in the future. Because when you get to the future, it turns out to be the present and by the time you’ve thought about it, it’s already the past.

Russell never thought that much about the future, he was always happy with the present. Especially the birthday present, especially if it was a bicycle. Which it once had been, but that was in the past now.

It’s all so confusing, isn’t it?

Russell certainly didn’t know that he was going to be instrumental in future events which would affect the present yet to come. As it were.

He wasn’t happy when he got back to the sales office. He was mournful.

“Why are you mournful?” Morgan asked.

“I am mournful,” said Russell, “because I do not want to be sacked.”

“You won’t be sacked,” said Morgan. “If anybody’s going to be sacked, then that somebody will be Frank.”

“It bloody won’t,” said Frank. “I’m the manager.”

“I wasn’t going to bring my wild card into play just yet,” said Morgan, “but I think I will anyway.”

“Oh yes?” said Frank.

“Oh yes,” said Morgan. “You may be the manager, but Ernest Fudgepacker is my uncle.”

“Shit,” said Frank.

“I should go,” said Russell. “Last in, first out.”

“Will you shut up about that.”

“No, he’s right,” said Frank. “Don’t stand in his way, he’s doing the right thing. Forestall the ignominy of a sacking, Russell, go and hand your notice in.”

“All right,” said Russell. “I will.”

Now, this is all wrong, you see. In Hollywood they wouldn’t have this. In Hollywood they would say, “The hero is under stress and now the hero must fight back. And win.” That’s what they’d say. In Hollywood.

“I’ll hand my notice in,” said Russell. “It’s only fair.”

“Quite right,” said Frank.

“Quite wrong,” said Morgan.

“You know what though,” said Russell, “if we could do something to bring in some business, none of us would have to be sacked.”

“Good point,” said Morgan.

“You can’t run a company without a manager,” said Frank.

“There must be something we could do,” said Russell. “Something I could do.”

“What?” Morgan asked.

“Hand in your notice,” said Frank. “Save the rest of us.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to you,” said Russell. “Putting you through all the misery, waiting for the axe to fall. No, handing in my notice won’t help. I must do something positive, something that will help us all.”

“Are you taking the piss?” Frank asked.

“No, I’m dead straight. I’m going to think hard about this. Find a way to save Fudgepacker’s. That’s what I’m going to do.”

“It’s five-thirty,” said Morgan. “Knocking-off time. What would you say to a pint of beer?”

“Not in The Bricklayer’s?”

“Not in The Bricklayer’s.”

“I would say thank you, let’s do it.”

The Ape of Thoth was a popular pub. A music pub. All kinds of bands had played there. Some had become quite famous since. The Who once played there, and Manfred Mann. Of course that is going back a bit. The Lost T-Shirts of Atlantis never played there, nor did Sonic Energy Authority, but you can’t have everything. The landlord of The Ape was a Spaniard by the name of Luis Zornoza. Tall, dark and handsome, he was, and a bit of a ladies’ man [20] As Spike once said, “One bit in particular.” .

Russell had never been into The Ape before. Morgan drew his attention to a sign above the bar. “The Ape of Thoth, formerly The Flying Swan, welcomes you.”

A blond barmaid came up to serve them.

“I’ll have a Perrier water,” said Russell.

“You’ll have a pint,” said Morgan.

“Yes, you’re right, I will.”

“Two pints of Special,” said Morgan.

The barmaid looked at Russell with wistful eyes. “Pity,” she said.

“Look,” said Morgan, as the drinks were delivered. “I know you’d like to help, Russell, but it really isn’t your thing, is it? I mean you’re a helpful felllow, but when it comes to big helpfulness, like making a big move, you just don’t do that sort of stuff, do you?”