Something Rotten (Thursday Next 4)

St Zvlkx looked at me suspiciously from behind a heavy curtain of oily black hair.

'Welcome to Swindon, Mr Zvlkx,' said my mother, curtsying politely. 'Would you like some breakfast?'

'He only speaks Old Enlish,' put in Joffy. 'Here, let me translate.'

'Oi, Pig-face – are you going to eat, or what?'

'Ahh!' said the monk, and sat down at the table. Friday stared at him a little dubiously, then started to jabber Lorem Ipsum at him while the monk stared at him dubiously.

'How's it all going?' I asked.

'Pretty good,' replied Joffy, pouring some coffee for himself and St Zvlkx. 'He's shooting a commercial this morning for the Toast Marketing Board and will be on The Adrian Lush Show at four. He's also guest speaker at the Swindon Dermatologists Convention at the Finis; apparently some of his skin complaints are unknown to science. I thought I'd bring him round to see you – he's full of wisdom, you know.'

'It's barely eight in the morning!' said Mum.

'St Zvlkx rises with the dawn as a penance,'Joffy explained. 'He spent all of Sunday pushing a peanut around the Brunei Centre with his nose.'

'I spent it playing golf with Braxton Hicks.'

'How did you do?'

'Okay, I think. My croquet-playing skills stopped me making a complete arse of myself. Did you know that Braxton had six kids?'

'Well, how about some wisdom, then?' said my mother brightly. 'I'm very big on thirteenth-century sagacity.'

'Okay,' said Joffy. 'Oi! Make yourself useful and give us some wisdom, you old fart.'

'Poke it up your arse.'

'What did he say?'

'Er – he said he would meditate upon it.'

'Well,' said my mother, who was nothing if not hospitable and could just about make breakfast without consulting the recipe book, 'since you are our guest, Mr Zvlkx, what would you like for breakfast?'

St Zvlkx stared at her.

'Eat,' repeated my mother, making biting gestures. This seemed to do the trick.

'Your mother has firm breasts for a middle-aged woman, orb-like and defying gravity. I should like to play with them, as a baker plays with dough.'

'What did he say?'

'He says he'd be very grateful for bacon and eggs,' replied Joffy quickly, turning to St Zvlkx and saying: 'Any more crap out of you, sunshine, and I'll lock you in the cellar tomorrow night as well.'

'What did you say to him?'

'I thanked him for his attendance in your home.'

'Ah.'

Mum put the big frying pan on the cooker and broke some eggs into it, followed by large rashers of bacon. Pretty soon the smell of bacon pervaded the house, something that attracted not only a sleepwalking DH82 but also Hamlet and Lady Hamilton, who had given up pretending they weren't sleeping together.

'Hubba, hubba,' said St Zvlkx as soon as Emma entered, 'who's the bunny with the scrummy hooters?'

'He wishes you – um – both good morrow,' said Joffy, visibly shaken. 'St Zvlkx, this is Lady Hamilton anb Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.'

'If you're giving one of those puppies,' continued St Zvlkx, staring at Emma's cleavage, 'I'll have the one with the brown nose.'