The Last Trump of
Avram Blok
William Collins & Sons 1990
Flamingo paperback 1991
The Tutor's Lament:
`Where can I get a new Nagra?' he asked Blok and Asher as they waited
for their order, sipping water. `Where can I get a replacement for
a cracked Steenbeck prism? Where can I find an Arri 35 blimp? Where
do I get a sky-pan free of charge? How do I replace a broken Moy
head by tomorrow afternoon? What do I do about seven reels of cod
western lost in the Humphries bath? How do I get the Venezuelan government
to cough up four unpaid sets of fees? How do I save an Iraqi student
from the Baghdad draft? Do you happen to have a condenser microphone
stuck in your coat pocket? What do I do about the chronic lack of
toilet paper in the college WCs? How can I teach rubber numbering
to people who can't count to five, let alone ten? What can I do about
complaints of sexual harassment in the fifth term? What is the difference
between script and mental breakdown? Who can you think of who might
want to steal four thousand foot of Standard Academy Leader? Where
can I find cheap Brutes? Do you have a Synchronising Pulse Separator?
What can one do about demands for teaching of Feminist Semiotics
and Deconstructionist Aesthetics tic tics? Should I ban the use of
fisheye lenses? Should one replace staff who are dead? What are we
doing to introduce ongoing ethnic media contextualisation techniques
at a nonverbal level? Should I introduce creche facilities for disabled
perverts? Who do you know who can lecture on Helical Scan Head Configurations
to the third and fourth term? Why do we not run courses in braille?
A man from Texas wants to know.'
Henry Gibson bowed his head as the weight of the world bore down on
him, pressing his nose almost into contact with the plate of spaghetti
napolitana which the waiter slid below his lips, steaming his spectacles.
Outside, traffic swirled in the maze of junctions leading west to Piccadilly
Circus, north to Euston, east to Fleet Street, south to Trafalgar Square
and Whitehall, palaces of power, treadmills of tradition, the delight
of the red doubledeckers, anonymous cars chasing the nirvana of parking
spaces, pedestrians hugging coats tight against the usual chill, hurrying
past the international news-stands, the Chinese restaurants, the first-
and second-hand bookshops, the names of legend on theatre marquees,
pornographic emporiums and delicatessens of Soho and cigar stores bringing
a whiff of true old times...
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