We are supposed to be the children of Seth; but Seth is too much of an effete nonentity to deserve ancestral regard. No, we are the sons of Cain, and with violence can be associated the attacks on sound, stone, wood and metal that produced civilization.

Hitler was a teetotalitarian.

And I sort of frowned about that, thinking. 'You felt ill this afternoon,' he said, 'because you're getting better. When we're healthy we respond to the presence of the hateful with fear and nausea. You're becoming healthy, that's all.

If he can only perform good or only perform evil, then he is a clockwork orange—meaning that he has the appearance of an organism lovely with colour and juice but is in fact only a clockwork toy to be wound up by God or the Devil.

Come with uncle and hear all proper. Hear angel trumpets and devil trombones...you are invited!

But we were all feeling that bit shagged and fagged and fashed, it having been an evening of some small energy expenditure.

And to all others in this story profound shooms of lip music brrrrrr. And they can kiss my sharries.