Bernaard

Trechinsky tapte ti lapper på å “chatte” med denne dama, som dukket opp i nettleseren hans:

Ja, skrek Trechinsky, det skal du få! Jeg klikker der for å respondere!

AKT I

Trechinsky (henslengt på divanen): Hø?

Karl Gustav (skuende ut av vinduet): He?

Trechinsky: Pastoren. Når kommer pastoren? Kommer pastoren nå? Pastoren? Pastoren.

Karl Gustav går fra det ene vinduet til det andre vinduet. Der stopper han og ser på klokken.

AKT II

Trechinsky: Hæ?

Karl Gustav: Jeg aner ikke… Kommer han i det hele tatt?

Trechinsky: Uff, nei, hva er det vi venter på?

Karl Gustav: Jeg vil klage.

Trechinsky (overbegeistret): Ja, på sørvisen.

Karl Gustav: Helvetes kristendritten møter ikke opp…

Trechinsky: Nei, hva sier du? Skal vi ikke bare bestille?

Kelneren kommer.

Trechinsky (altfor høyt): Laks!

Kelneren: Bakt, stekt, rå?

Karl Gustav: Biff!

Kelneren: Kan vi ta en om gangen?

Trechinsky (visker, nesten uhørlig): Sprøstekt, poteter med smør, persilledusk. Et cetera!

Karl Gustav (gjespende): Biff! Halvrå med en oliven. To flasker Dång Pingelong.

Trechinsky: Jägermeister für mich!

Karl Gustav: Nei, det blir lite trikk på deg for tiden?

En lang pause hvor svært mye lydbånd går med til å spille inn restaurantlyder.

(Den neste og nesten like spennende episoden heter “Trechinsky intervjuer Karl Gustav II.”)

It is as horrible to Bernaard, as it is to anyone with a minimal sense of justice, to see the Olympic torch pass through the streets of Lhasa with thousands of people dancing and celebrating to the tones and rhythms of the authoritarian Chinese regime.

How could the Olympic committee accept that the torch passed through occupied territory—a country in which ethnic Tibetans have been suppressed and killed? Did the committee not realise that this is a victory to the dictators of China, an acceptance of China’s ethnic cleansing of Tibet? Perhaps the committee has been convinced by Chinese propaganda claiming that Tibet has been Chinese all the time? (Which is nothing but one of several lies generated by the Chinese system.)

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What an awful night in Paderborn with the dream dwarf. Poor Trechinsky. He had never been in Paderborn before, this boring German town with a lousy brewery. And how did he get there?

By bus, of course. Und Zumelung Weldt. Never again. Endless headaches at Hotel Kaiserpfalz. The sound of the drill in the street.

That’s what happens when you want to be wild, and you take an arbitrary buss line to an arbitrary place. Nothing good has ever come from such ideas.

Never leave Cologne—that’s and order—the man said and left. No boss-man, no!