So here comes a young chap who wants a copy of 'The Glass Bead Game.' I haven't got one but he is happy to have mentioned it and feels I now respect his learning. I direct him to the erotica. We have got through the preliminaries so can get to the point.
And here's the local rat catcher in his moleskin britches and wide felt hat. He has taken a stall in the Saturday market to sell books. He is going to tell me of his recent triumphs in this new endeavour, how he bught for 1p and sold for £30 to the guy down his street. I smile and grit my teeth. Why does this never happen to me? Does it really happen to him? Was he sent to this planet to stop me getting complacent. Sales have been good but - well, I should be doing better obviously. I should be scooping up the 1p prize at the boot sale and making a 3000% profit. Only then I wouldn't be manning my stall here and I'd have to pay someone and I think I need another coffee.
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