Emotionally Weird(104)

Chez Bob





I COULD HEAR BOB TALKING IN THE BEDROOM AS I CAME INTO the flat. At first I thought it must be his usual sleep gibberish, but gradually it resolved itself into (a kind of) Logic –

‘Symbolize the following propositions in the symbolism of Predicate Logic:

a) The miners have a special case.

b) University teachers don’t have a special case.

c) The miners work harder than the university teachers.

d) The miners will get a bigger rise than the university teachers.

e) No group will get a bigger rise than the miners.

f) If one group works harder than another group, it will get a bigger rise.

g) A group will get a bigger rise than another group only if it has a special case and the other group doesn’t.

And that,’ Bob said in an exasperated voice, ‘isn’t even the difficult bit – right?’

‘Right,’ another voice said, sounding rather tired, as if it might have been listening to Bob for some time. Interestingly, the voice was female. I crept as silently as a dog-burglar across the carpet towards the bedroom door.

‘“ M ”,’ Bob continued ‘is “the miners”, “u” is “the university teachers”, “sx” is “x has a special case”, “hxy” is “x works harder than y”, “bxy” is “x will get a bigger rise than y”, Universe of Discourse is groups of workers. Show by constructing a formal derivation that (c), (f) and (g) together imply (b). You don’t know how to do this stuff by any chance, do you?’ he asked this anonymous female hopefully. ‘My girlfriend thinks I have no brain.’

‘And is she right?’

‘Ha, ha,’ Bob said. ‘You’re quite witty, aren’t you?’

The door to the bedroom was ajar and I gave it a nudge so that it opened just wide enough for me to catch a glimpse of Bob lazing naked amongst a tumble of empurpled sheets.

‘Brain and brain, what is brain?’ Bob said in a ridiculous voice. I nudged the door a little further until I could see the Finnegans Wake girl lying with the sheet pulled decorously up over her torso but nonetheless presumably naked also.

‘What are you talking about?’ she said in an exasperated tone.

I pushed the door wide open.

‘Arse,’ Bob said eloquently when he saw me. The Finnegans Wake girl screamed realistically.

‘It’s Star Trek ,’ I said helpfully to her, ‘an episode called “Spock’s Brain”, from the third series.’ I shut the bedroom door. I couldn’t think of anything else to do.

I was about to leave when the phone rang. I picked it up and listened in silence to the voice at the other end. Finally, I said, ‘Right, I’ll tell him then.’

When I opened the door to the bedroom Bob put his hands up as if he was expecting to be shot.

‘Bob,’ I said with a heavy heart, ‘Bob, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you.’

‘The power’s off?’ he guessed. ‘We’re out of tea? You’re leaving me?’ he added rather dejectedly.

I sighed. ‘No, none of those things. Your father’s dead.’

Poor Bob Senior, a man I hardly knew really apart from the odd conversation over the tea-table about the state of the garden or the politics of state. Nonetheless, it was I who had the tears running down my face, while Bob stared helplessly at the Finnegans Wake girl, already pulling her clothes on and heading for the door.

What a particularly bad twenty-four hours it had been.

‘Buggery rats,’ Madame Astarti exclaimed as the body fell out of the cupboard on top of her.





Great Excitement





Madame Astarti had opened up early and was sitting in her booth, drinking tea and idly shuffling her Tarot pack whilst wondering whether to eat all of her Kit-Kat now or save two fingers for later, when she heard a strange ticking noise. She left the booth and went and scrutinized the war memorial suspiciously. The deactivated torpedo was definitely ticking like an alarm clock ready to go off. Madame Astarti looked around; no-one else seemed to have noticed it. Frank the fishman was unlocking his stall, fiddling with an awkward padlock.

At that moment Madame Astarti became aware of another noise, this one like the droning of a large, angry insect. ‘Look!’ she shouted to Frank, pointing in amazement to the blue sky where a small light aircraft was circling lower and lower, smoke trailing from one of its engines.

Frank finally managed to yank open the shutters of his stall just as the little aircraft plunged into the sea with a kind of plopping noise. A few minutes later a woman struggled out of the water and waded ashore. Not often you saw that, Madame Astarti thought.