“Mad,” I said. “Quite mad.”
“Hold on,” said Dave. “Don’t speak. There’s a good bit coming up.”
I held my counsel and also held my breath.
“Wow,” went Dave once again. “Brilliant.”
“It’s completely lost on me.”
“Speak English,” said Dave.
“I don’t understand it. But, listen, you know I told you that I had a big idea?”
Dave nodded, but he wasn’t really listening.
“I went down to the library,” I continued, speaking clearly and loudly, in the hope that some of it might get through. “I went to the library and while I was there I heard two men talking about something really strange. But I’ll tell you about that later. I got the book I needed and I also got some other stuff I needed, which I’ve hidden away in a secret place. You’re going to love this.”
“I am loving this.” Dave was all misty-eyed.
“I’ve got a big idea,” I told Dave.
“I’ve got a big bulge in my trousers.”
“What?”
“What?” said Dave. “What are you talking about? Can’t this wait till later?”
“All right,” I said. “I’ll be having a fag. Come and talk to me when you’re finished.”
“I can’t finish properly. I haven’t reached puberty yet.”
“Completely lost on me.”
I went outside and had a fag.
Naturally I smoked Woodbine. Well, I would, wouldn’t I? I mean, Lazlo Woodbine? What else was I likely to smoke? All children smoked in those days. But then in those days cigarettes were good for you. Like nuclear radiation and lead soldiers. In fact, almost everything was good for you in those days: a good smacked-bottom; a good dose of castor oil; a good helping of National Service; a good stretch behind bars. They were good times all round, really.
I was finishing off my fag when Dave came out of the launderette. “Give us a puff,” said Dave.
And I gave Dave a puff.
“My big idea,” I said to Dave. “It’s about P.P. Penrose.”
“Go on, then,” said Dave, taking another puff at my fag.
“You know what you said about taking relics? I think we can go one better than that. Take his whole body and bring him back to life.”
Dave took a final puff from my fag and stamped the tiny butt end out upon the pavement. “You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?” he said.
“No. I’m serious. I’ve got this book about how to make zombies. And it needs special herbs and I’ve got the herbs and everything. Including a human skull to mix them up in. I can do all that part in my sleeping cupboard.”
“Cool,” said Dave. “Will it really work, do you think?”
“If it’s done properly, I think it will.”
“And do you know how to do it properly?”
“I think so. It’s all in my book. You do a ritual with the herbs, then you feed the herbs to the dead corpse and it comes back to life.”
“It’s got to be a load of twonk, hasn’t it?” said Dave, which surprised me somewhat. “I mean, well, if it did work, then everyone would be doing it and people wouldn’t die any more.”
Dave had a good point there.
“You have a good point there,” I said to Dave. “But the reason everyone doesn’t do it is because it’s a secret. This book is a secret book; the formula for the herbs is a secret formula. Only very few people know the secret, so only a very few people ever get brought back to life. Probably very rich people like the royal family. I’ll bet the Queen Mum will live to be at least a hundred years old. Because each time she dies, they’ll bring her back to life with voodoo magic.”[4]
“You’ve won me over,” said Dave. “So when do we do it?”
“I thought we’d follow the funeral and see where they bury Mr Penrose. Then come back at night and dig him up.”
“Too much trouble,” said Dave. “All that digging. Why not do it at his wake? When all his friends are there. They’ll be dead pleased to see him up and about again.” Dave tittered.
“Why do you titter?” I asked.
“Dead pleased,” said Dave.
“That isn’t very funny,” I said.
“No,” said Dave. “You’re right. But I heard this really funny joke. Would you care to hear it?”
“I would,” I said.
“OK,” said Dave. “It’s the one about the man with the huge green head. Have you heard it?”[5]
“No,” I said.
“OK,” said Dave again. “So this bloke is standing at a bus stop and he’s got this huge green head, and I mean huge. It’s enormous. And this other bloke comes up and keeps looking at it; he’s fascinated, he can’t take his eyes off this first bloke’s huge green head. Finally the bloke with the huge green head says, ‘OK, go on, ask me.’ And the other bloke says, ‘What?’ And the bloke with the green head says, ‘Ask me how I got this huge green head. You want to, I know.’ So the other bloke says, ‘How did you get that huge green head?’ So the bloke with the huge green head says, ‘Well, it’s a really funny story. I was walking along Brighton beach and I found this old brass lamp and I rubbed it and this genie came out and said, “You’ve freed me from the lamp and so you can have three wishes.” So I said, “All right! Then for my first wish I want to be incredibly wealthy with this huge mansion with secret rooms with soldiers in and kitchens full of cakes and sweets and suitcases with diamonds and emeralds in them.” And there’s a big puff of smoke and I’m in this huge mansion with all the things I’d asked for. And the genie says, “What do you want for your second wish?” And I say, “Right, I want the most beautiful woman in the world to be my wife and she has to want to sex me all the time, with brief breaks while she cooks me sausages and cuts me pieces of cake and pours me Tizer and stuff like that.” And there’s another puff and she appears. Just like how I wanted. Incredible.’
“And the bloke with the huge green head pauses and the other bloke looks at him and says, ‘OK, go on. What did you wish for with your last wish?’
“And the bloke with the huge green head says—”
“‘I wished for a huge green head, of course,’” said I. “I have heard it.”
“And isn’t it a blinder?”
“I think it’s probably the funniest joke in the whole wide world,” I said. “I can’t imagine there being a funnier one.”
“I only wish I understood it,” said Dave.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “You understand the pleasures of the launderette. That’s something in itself. So, are you up for this? We go to Mr Penrose’s wake and bring him back to life. This is a good plan, yes?”
“It’s a great plan,” said Dave. “We’ll probably get a medal from the Pope and a special certificate from Her Majesty the Queen for this. If it works.”
“It will work,” I said. “Trust me. It will work.”
Over the next few days I kept pressing the Daddy regarding the matter of Mr Penrose’s wake and how it would be such a good idea for me to come to it too. How it would be so educational for me and everything. But the Daddy wasn’t having any of that. He was adamant. I was not going. It was by invitation only and it wasn’t for children.
I kept an eye on the doormat for incoming invitations. I was up every day in time for the postman. No invitations slipped by me and the days were slipping away.
The next Wednesday came round and I feigned a cold so I could stay off school. I’d arranged with Dave that he should feign a cold also. But Dave felt that feigning a cold was for homos and so he feigned the Black Death, was given a good smacked-bottom by his mum and sent to school.
4
I might not have been able to foresee a washing machine in almost every home in the country. But at least I was right about that one.