“The Fascist filth shall
abase themselves before me,” McGaskie said.
Chin and chest stuck out, he told his audience of one: “They will beg for mercy and crawl on their bellies to
my feet. I will forgive them and anoint them as true sons of the proletariat.
We shall make membership of the Party compulsory; our branch will be the
biggest in England.”
His eyes narrowed as he noticed his companion had started sobbing again.
“Stop snivelling, Peregrine. We
are the vanguard of the revolution. You must relax more, the capitalist war is
getting to you.”
He paused and threw his arms out wide; for a moment he struggled to keep
his balance. “We’ll take over Sorbay’s brothel, that’s what we will do. It will cheer you up, stop you
snivelling. You can have a woman, you’ll like that. It
will do you good. Why didn’t I think of that
before? He’s fled our brave city, we’ll take over his larders too and make lots of money.
We’ll be rich, I have such
brilliant ideas.”
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