"How dare thou rouse me from my syphilitic hallucinations! I suppose you want another book recommendation, do you? Well, let me see what I can conjure up for you. Has anyone seen that scoundrel Gaugin, by the by? And where is my razor? Not for my ear, you roustabout - for my beard.
"Well if it's a book you want I must recommend Dubliners by James Joyce. It was Bloomsday not so long ago and I had some of that foul-tasting swill they call Guinness in honour of that interminable Irishman and his - what did Virginia call it - his cloacal obsession. Dubliners is a more concise portrayal of Joyce's city and is rife with that "scrupulous mean-ness" he liked to bandy about before he went off the deep end with Finnegans Wake, which I assume to be some great literary hoax and about as funny as a hatful of scorpions.
"Now, will you leave me alone? I have business to attend to in the troposphere."
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