Free The Garden of Unearthly Delights by Robert Rankin

it,’ said Dayglo. ‘Thus for a small fee from Leibwitz, I would
recommend the quality of his hams.
    ‘Precisely.
And soon each butcher will try to improve the quality of his meat. Each will
seek your endorsement of this improved quality. Trade will increase for all,
as you spread the word and folk rush to sample the improved products. The buyer
will receive better meat. The butchers will enjoy greater custom. You accrue
more fees. All are ultimately satisfied. Thus is financed the entire grand
scheme.’
    ‘There
is sound logic to this,’ said Dayglo, shaking Maxwell by the hand. ‘I should
have thought of it myself.’
    ‘You are the eminent and noble news teller. Jam the
imagineer. And this is how we go about it.’
    And this Maxwell now explained.
    ‘I
shall undertake the job of news gatherer,’ he said. ‘I will interview folk of
the town, learn what is to be learned, cross-referenced to ensure clarity and
lack of bias. I shall seek out and document all I can of recent events and
events yet to come; fêtes, fairs, weddings, funerals; anything that might
coalesce into worthy news, to be of interest and instruction.’
    Hearing
this, the zany now volunteered to take on the role of advertising rep, visiting
all the local business premises to explain the new scheme and solicit fees
from anyone who wished to have their products endorsed in the first commercial
break.
    ‘Excellent,’
said the news teller. ‘Then I shall dedicate myself to the thankless task of
selecting a suitable news crumpet.
    ‘Shortly,’
said Max, with a knowing smile. ‘But first I suggest you visit the nearest
carpenter’s shop and commission the building of a spectacular new two-person TV
set.’
    ‘They
will want a down payment,’ said the news-teller, gloomily.
    Maxwell
shook his head. ‘By no means. Outline our grand scheme to them. Stress that
many TV sets will need to be constructed in the future. Stress also the
prestige of their name being emblazoned across the front of every one.’
    The
news teller now shook his head. ‘Is there nothing you have not thought
of?’ he asked.
    ‘Nothing,’
Maxwell said.
    But on
this surmise he was incorrect. Because here a spanner, or more aptly a chisel,
introduced itself into the otherwise smooth-running works: the news teller,
having scuttled off to the carpenter’s shop, shortly returned with some
discouraging ‘news.
    ‘They
will supply the wood free of charge, but not the labour,’ he said.
    ‘No
matter,’ said Maxwell, as ever optimistic. ‘Accept the wood with thanks, then
construct the TV yourself.’
    ‘What?’
The news teller stepped back in outrage. ‘Surely all hinges upon my reputation
and social standing. I cannot descend to the humble role of carpenter. The
zany must build it.’
    ‘Would
that I could,’ said the zany. ‘But I must solicit fees, without which the
project cannot be financed. Max must build it.’
    ‘Gladly,’
said Maxwell. ‘But I must gather news. Without news there is no
project.’
    ‘I have
a suggestion to make,’ said the zany. ‘Clearly Mr Hilyte must remain aloof from
manual labour in order to preserve his dignity and esteem. Why should I not
gather news as I do my rounds of the business premises? Mr Hilyte could
accompany me, showing his face as it were, absorbing news—’
    ‘And
interviewing likely candidates for the position of news crumpet,’ said Mr
Hilyte.
    “Then
you’, the zany told Maxwell, ‘could use your imagineering skills to great
advantage, designing and constructing the new two-person TV set.’
    Maxwell
chanced a thoughtful scratch at his head and a wonderful vision swam into his
mind.
    ‘Rock
‘n’ Roll,’ said Maxwell. ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll.’
    And so
began a week of much industry on the part of Maxwell, the news teller and his
zany. It had been agreed that the first two-person commercial newscast would be
scheduled for six o’clock on
the coming Saturday night. Maxwell laboured long into each night on