Soul Music - Ron

'Buggrit, buggrit, wrong side out, I told'em, buggrem . . .' The Patrician waited. With Foul Ole Ron you had to allow time for his wandering mind to get into the same vicinity as his tongue.

'. . . spyin' on me with magic, I told'em, bean soup, see here . . . and then everyone was dancing, you see, and then afterwards there were two of the wizards in the street and one of them was going on about catching the music in a box and Mr Dibbler was interested and then the coffee house exploded and they all went back to the University . . . buggrit, buggrit, buggrem, see if I don't.'

'The coffee house exploded, did it?'

'Frothy coffee all over the place, yerronner . . . bugg-'

'Yes, yes, and so on,' said the Patrician, waving a thin hand. 'And that's all you can tell me?'

'Well . . . bug-' Foul Ole Ron caught the Patrician's eye and got a grip on himself. Even in his own highly individualized sanity he could tell when not to push his threadbare luck. His Smell wandered around the room, reading documents and examining the pictures. 'They say,' he said, 'that he drives all the women mad.' He leaned forward. The Patrician leaned back. 'They say after he moved his hips like that . . . Mrs Whitlow threw her . . . wossnames . . . on to the stage.'

The Patrician raised an eyebrow. '“Wossnames”?'

'You know.' Foul Ole Ron moved his hands vaguely in the air.

'A pair of pillow cases? Two sacks of flour? Some very baggy trou- oh. I see. My word. Were there any casualties?'

'Dunno, yerronner. But there's something I do know.'

'Yes?'

'Uh . . . Cumbling Michael says yerronner sometimes pays for information . . . ?'

'Yes, I know. I can't imagine how these rumours get about,' said the Patrician, getting up and opening a window. 'I shall have to have something done about it.' Once again, Foul Ole Ron reminded himself that while he was probably insane he definitely wasn't as mad as all that.

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Soul Music - p154-155