Trick Daddy

Jim O'Rourke - Something Big
Take part in the great captalist debate! Or just consume!

The action begins in Parklangley (this is very serious, incidentally). For your information, this is near West Wickham, but not so close as to imply friendship. And has nothing to do with what went on at Surrey commerical docks that Wednesday. Action is perhaps too tepid a term for what directed itself earthwards that night. Clive was fond of these 'gatherings', they reminded him a lot of times in cars when he would rest his head aginst the window and watch the blurring lines, and reminded him very little of the thrashings he would receive for leaving greasy hair stains on the car windows.
Rudi, the fresh young buck from Coombe Hill Golf Club, was having none of it. He demanded that the group make an honest and straightforward reappraisal of the existing set of concrete intersubjective relations between all present. To this end, he suggested that each and every member of the Freemasons within fifteen feet was to be hereafter referred to in the third person singular and burnt with flaming towels - which he then produced from a small handbag he had brought with him which had previously gone unnoticed by at most four, maybe five, of the Freemasons.
He coughed, and a vain, icy silence too preoccupied with matters of the heart than affairs of the coin got caught in an updraft. Rudi cleared his throat. "Trick Daddy," he said.