The Da-Da-De-Da-Da Code Read Online Free PDF Page B

back to the pub.’
    ‘No,’ said Jonny. ‘I’m going to the park.’
    ‘I don’t like the park,’ said Mr Giggles. ‘The grass smells bad because the dogs all wee on it.’
    ‘Then I will go on my own.
Please
let me go on my own.’
    ‘You might get lost or something. I’d best come along.’
    ‘One day,’ said Jonny, ‘one day I will drive you out of my head.’
    ‘I really hope for your sake that you don’t.’
    ‘And what is
that
supposed to mean?’
    ‘It means,’ said Mr Giggles, ‘that
I
am the lesser of a great many evils. If you were to drive me out, there’s just no telling who or what might take up occupation in my absence.’
    Jonny felt a nasty shiver creeping up his spine.
    ‘I’m going to the park,’ he said.
    Gunnersbury Park is a beautiful park. Just off the Chiswick round-about, if you’re coming up the A4, it boasts many facilities: two miniature nine-hole golf courses (pitch-and-putt), two bowling greens, five cricket pitches, one hockey pitch, thirty-six football pitches, six netball pitches, three rugby pitches, one lacrosse pitch, two putting greens, fifteen hard tennis courts, a two-and-a-half-acre fishing pond, an ornamental boating pond, a riding school, dressing rooms and refreshment pavilions.
    Add to this the ‘Big House’, a museum packed with many wonders, a Japanese garden, a Doric temple, an orangery and several Gothic follies.
    And it’s open every day of the year except Christmas Day, and you can even get married in the grounds.
And
visit Princess Amelia’s Bath House. But more about her later.
    So it’s well worth a visit.
    Jonny sat by the ornamental boating pond smoking a hand-rolled ciggy and wearing the Trinidad and Tobago World Cup football shirt he had purchased from a charity shop, but which, along with any description of himself, had escaped previous mention. Across from him, on the west shore, a park ranger named Kenneth Connor (who was not under any circumstances to be confused with the other Kenneth Connor) dragged a shopping trolley up from the water’s edge and muttered swear words underneath his breath.
    ‘All that Robert Johnson stuff,’ said Jonny, ‘all that
was
just astory, wasn’t it? There isn’t really a thirtieth record with the Devil’s laughter on it, is there?’
    ‘Don’t you believe in the Devil?’
    ‘I’ve never really thought about it.’
    ‘Now who’s the liar? You think about things like God and the Devil all the time.’
    ‘I don’t think the Devil exists.’
    ‘Tricky one, that,’ said Mr Giggles. ‘You know what they say: that the greatest trick the Devil ever played was to convince people of his nonexistence. That and to get Boy George to the top of the charts, of course.’
    ‘So is the story true, or is it not?’
    ‘It depends what you mean by “true”.’
    ‘Does it? Well, let us accept that what I mean by the word “true” is “what actually happened”.’
    ‘Sounds a bit ambiguous,’ said Mr Giggles, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue.
    ‘It is not ambiguous,’ said Jonny. ‘Something either happened, or it didn’t.’
    ‘If only it were as simple as that.’
    ‘It is,’ said Jonny. ‘And by your prevarication, I think it safe to assume that it was
not
a true story.’
    ‘Well, you’d know,’ said Mr Giggles, ‘because if I don’t exist, it means that
you
made up the story. So
is
it true, or not?’
    Jonny Hooker ground his teeth.
    ‘We should go back to the pub,’ said Mr Giggles. ‘You could get very drunk and we could have a really good metaphysical discussion. Talk some really splendid toot. And you could tell me how I’m your bestest friend, again.’
    Jonny fished a scrunched-up piece of paper from his pocket. ‘I am going to apply myself to this,’ he said. ‘The curious silence that both myself and O’Fagin experienced. The pregnant pause. It must mean something. I have nothing else to do with my life, so I will apply myself to this.’
    ‘Bravely