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flummoxity. Please be reassured. It is core drilling to which he refers. The core withdrawn being easily replaced, although we may have to retain certain portions. May I enquire. You are single.’
    ‘I have three.’
    ‘Ah that is forward looking. And where do you keep your spouses.’
    ‘O wives. No I’m single.’
    ‘Ah. As am I. And George. But Franz has seven daughters. Although we have made numerous arrangements George has not yet had the good fortune to cohabit with the female homosapien. My own occasions of doing so are infrequent. I am uncircumcised. My log book records, I have it here, ah yes. Of human sexual unions. Thirteen. Twelve, with harlots. Of bestial cohabitations there have been five. I fail to have erection with women to whom I have paid court. Except in one recent case when I have inhaled thedonkey distillate prescribed by Franz when engorgement took place immediately thereafter. Although I had parental consent, the subject was under the statutory legal age for carnal knowledge. And it is with regret that a law case ensued. The three of us possess quite normal penises. Mine being the largest both flaccid and in erection. Ten point seven centimetres and seventeen point four respectively. Ah but I must not delay you.’
    ‘You’re staying to lunch.’
    ‘Ah that would be most cordial kind sir.’
    ‘And dinner.’
    ‘We are indeed most grateful.’
    Erconwald reaching the ends of his sentences gives a little inclination of the head. He and George appear cleaner than Franz. Although the latter is kept busy brewing up the horny distillate. Been offered the laxative but not the aphrodisiac. Take with me outside the discomforting vision of the bunch of them, snakes entwined around ankles taking craps while they tickle the ceilings with their tools in extensum. Thereupon gouging in the soft plaster suggestive rude motifs.
    Charnel Castle’s ivied turrets massively silhouetted against the sky. Smoke pouring from four chimney pots. Two great black birds throb wings up into the blue from a battlement, turn, wheel and dive with gleaming wings and zoom up again in the mild air. Bleat of sheep. Call of a lamb. From which Percival if he’s a good shot may get a chop. Or a trout may flip out for the breakfast table from a stream flowing by the castle wall. The legs want to churn and run, the arms to flail up hills. The voice to shout. To this gang who have invaded. When the hell are you leaving. Taking with you your ghosts, snakes, tripods and reek of onions.
    High on the northeastern battlement. In a bright red dress. Rose standing waving down. Look behind me. No one. Wave back. How do you do. Did you get a bite to eat recently. Wow did you hear that. Rose kidding around skipping over a stack of octaves. Echoing back from hillsides. Across the bay. Beyond the sandy beach and boat house. Where sits the yacht. For which I now have a crewto put aboard. Erconwald as captain. Donkey distillate in the engine to make it go.
    Clementine followed by Elmer passing his guest’s lengthy motor parked outside the castle wall. Packing two spare wheels on the running boards. Upon one of which my big woof woof pees. Inside a gentleman to whom one has not yet been introduced sitting next to the driver’s seat. Staring blankly ahead. Does not even seem to see me. I’ll put him down in the engine room. Of the yacht. Where his stoicism can play an important part amid the turbines. Which from what I remember of my naval career are very noisy.
    A narrow path descending through a wood of beech, pine and sycamore. Sound of lapping water. In the shadows a great slate roof of a large stone building jutting from the steep hillside out into the bay. A set of steps to a door under eaves. Here we go. Open this padlock. And push. Good Lord. It’s got a funnel. Two lifeboats. Be my first command. After all my years of naval training. To the rear march. Step over the bulkhead. Toss your oars. This is your captain speaking, give way