Chapter Eight

THE GATEWAY

And yet more travellers continued to arrive, spilling forth in abundance from the great silver birds.

And these were small in stature and were of a saffron hue, and they didst all look alike, as peas unto a pod, and they spoke just one phrase, which was: "Ah, so." And these had affixed to the ends of their arms, yea, as if formed from their very flesh, caskets of the deepest ebony, upon which were inscribed the names of strange and unknown deities, like Pentax, and Nikkon, and Canon.

And these travellers were of a pleasant demeanour, and displayed a multitude of gleaming teeth to the throng therein; and they bowed from the waist unto all they met, and said: "Ah, so"; and their ebony caskets were offered up unto all manner of things, and the caskets went Click.

And the labourers beheld these strange travellers and, verily, were much amused; and they smiled unto the ebony caskets and made humorous faces, whilst the caskets went Click. And the labourers smiled, and said: "On yer Slopies" and "Flamin' Nips".

And the travellers, each one, and of each creed, having set foot upon the sacred turf, were commanded to approach The Gateway, so that they might enter unto The Promised Land.

And, lo, a sign was visited upon them as they approached The Gateway; and the sign said: "Customs and Immigration"; and the travellers were caused to travel for many leagues, and for much of the afternoon, along a multitude of echoing corridors until, at last, they beheld The Gateway.

And fearsome Guardians awaited the travellers at that place; and these had countenances of stone and a sternness which was terrible to perceive; for a sacred task had been entrusted unto these – to permit only the blessed to enter The Promised Land. And amongst their many tasks was to ensure that it would be easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for someone wearing a Manchester United scarf to enter The Promised Land.

And the travellers saw that the Guardians of the Gateway were attired in raiments of indigo, sewn through with buttons and braid of dazzling gold. And they took brown liquid, called tea, unto their lips, and they moved not from their positions against the wall as they beheld the gathering multitude before them.

Then one amongst the Guardians spoke unto his brother, saying: "What d’ya reckon’s twenty-three down?" But his brother spoke not, for divine inspiration was he seeking over the runners in the two-thirty at Randwick. And the Guardians continued in this wise for a sore age, each an island unto himself, until there was assembled before them a throng of a hundred score, and no others could enter therein.

And the throng stood upon each other’s toes, and babies screamed shrilly, and normally civilised people began to throw punches at each other.

Then, at last, the Guardians, in their infinite wisdom, pushed themselves upright from the walls, and sauntered with casual air to the nearby tables. And they beheld the perspiring masses with disdain, and said: "Right, who’s got anything to declare ?"

Chapter 9 - The Unclean