Read Sprout Mask Replica for Free Online Page B

unmentionable
whiskers. He was now as clean as a baby’s post-bath bum and perky as a fan
dancer’s nipple. On his head he wore a monstrous bejewelled turban, of a type
once favoured by Eastern potentates as they rode upon magic carpets. And
gathered about him, by a silken cummerbund, great robes of similar stuff. That
stuff being decorative brocade and a good deal of it.
    ‘Dig
the slippers.’ Uncle Brian raised the hem of his garment to expose a pair of
those curly-toed numbers that the potentate lads always favoured. ‘Hip to trip
and hot to trot, what say you?’
    ‘I’m
somewhat stuck to say anything as it happens, this place it’s—’
    ‘Bloody
marvellous,’ said Uncle Brian. ‘It’s an exact re—creation of the harem of the
Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, who ruled the Ottoman Empire from 1520 to
1566.’
    ‘Yes,
of course,’ mumbled Norman. ‘Well I recognized it straightaway, naturally. But
where did you get it from? I mean, Shiva’s sheep, Brian, you didn’t nick it,
did you?’
    ‘Certainly
not.’ Uncle Brian swept over to a low carved satin-wood couch and flung himself
onto an abundance of cushions. ‘It’s all a present.’
    ‘A present? From who, or is it from whom, I can never remember.’
    ‘It’s
from whom, I think. And that whom is …’ Uncle Brian paused for effect.
‘The fairies,’ he said.
    Oh
dear, thought Norman, he’s a basket case.
    ‘I
never am. I did it, Norman, I did it. Cured myself of the good luck-bad luck
virus, freed myself from the influence of iron. And lo and behold.’
    ‘Curiously
I don’t understand,’ said Norman, who curiously didn’t.
    ‘Iron,
dear boy. Don’t you know your folklore? It all makes sense to me now.
    ‘It’s
still got me baffled,’ Norman shuffled his feet on the deep-pile carpet that
smothered the ground and tapped his toe on a Persian pouffe.
    ‘Iron
repels fairies,’ said Uncle Brian. ‘Surely everyone knows that. In the old days
it was regular to hang a pair of scissors over the cradle of a new-born infant
to protect it from being carried away by the fairies. There was a dual
protection in that because open scissors form a cross.
    ‘But
what has that got to do with all this?’
    Uncle
Brian shrugged up from his cushions. ‘Get a grip, Norman.
    I freed
myself from the influence of iron. The reason fairies are no longer to be seen
is because there’s too much iron. It’s everywhere.
    And it’s
bad for their health. So they’ve retreated. But my DMZ, the old Demetalized
Zone, attracted them, like,’ Uncle Brian gave a foolish titter, ‘like, dare I
say, a magnet.’
    ‘Preposterous,’
said Norman. ‘Ludicrous, in fact.’
    ‘If you
say so.’ My uncle plumped himself up and down on his cushions. ‘You’d know
best, I suppose. Shall I bring on the dancing girls?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Well,
it is a harem after all.’
    ‘You’ve
got dancing girls? You’re kidding, surely?’
    Uncle
Brian rose to clap his hands.
    ‘No no,’
Norman raised his and then slumped down onto the Persian pouffe. ‘This can’t be
true,’ he said. ‘It just can’t.’
    ‘I knew
I wasn’t wrong about the iron,’ said Uncle Brian, re-seating himself in a
sumptuous manner. ‘Although I’ll admit that I wasn’t expecting all this. Things
have worked out rather well really. How’s it all going for you, by the way?’
    ‘Oh,
swimmingly,’ said Norman. ‘I’m virtually bankrupt. It seems that my ancestors
have been responsible for almost every major disaster in the last one hundred
years and thanks to this wonderful world of information technology and stuff
that we’re presently living in, all their dirty deeds are now being brought to
light and I’m knee-deep in doggy doo.’
    ‘I hope
you didn’t bring any in on your shoes, that’s a very expensive carpet.
    ‘Cheers,’
said Norman.
    ‘Still,’
said my uncle, ‘chin up, old friend, you’re here now and it would be
uncharitable of me not to share some of my largesse