A Clockwork Orange - Burgess, Anthony [27]
I said: “How do you know my name, you stinking vonny bully? May Bog blast you to hell, grahzny bratchny as you are, you sod.” So they all had a smeck at that and I had my ooko like twisted by one of these stinking millicents at the back with me. The fat-necked not-driver said: “Everybody knows little Alex and his droogs. Quite a famous young boy our Alex has become.”
“It’s those others,” I creeched. “Georgie and Dim and Pete. No droogs of mine, the bastards.”
“Well,” said the fat-neck, “you’ve got the evening in front of you to tell the whole story of the daring exploits of those young gentlemen and how they led poor little innocent Alex astray.” Then there was the shoom of another like police siren passing this auto but going the other way.
“Is that for those bastards?” I said. “Are they being picked up by you bastards?”
“That,” said fat-neck, “is an ambulance. Doubtless for your old lady victim, you ghastly wretched scoundrel.”
“It was all their fault,” I creeched, blinking my smarting glaz-zies. “The bastards will be peeting away in the Duke of New York. Pick them up blast you, you vonny sods.” And then there was more smecking and another malenky tolchock, O my brothers, on my poor smarting rot. And then we arrived at the stinking rozz-shop and they helped me get out of the auto with kicks and pulls and they tolchocked me up the steps and I knew I was going to get nothing like fair play from these stinky grahzny bratchnies, Bog blast them.
A Clockwork Orange
7
They dragged me into this very bright-lit whitewashed can-tora, and it had a strong von that was a mixture of like sick and lavatories and beery rots and disinfectant, all coming from the barry places near by. You could hear some of the plennies in their cells cursing and singing and I fancied I could slooshy one belting out:
‘And I will go back to my darling, my darling, When you, my darling, are gone.’
But there were the golosses of millicents telling them to shut it and you could even slooshy the zvook of like somebody being tolchocked real horrorshow and going owwwwwwwww, and it was like the goloss of a drunken starry ptitsa, not a man. With me in this cantora were four millicents, all having a good loud peet of chai, a big pot of it being on the table and they sucking and belching away over their dirty bolshy mugs. They didn’t offer me any. All that they gave me, my brothers, was a crappy starry mirror to look into, and indeed I was not your handsome young Narrator any longer but a real strack of a sight, my rot swollen and my glazzies all red and my nose bumped a bit also. They all had a real horrorshow smeck when they viddied my like dismay, and one of them said: “Love’s young nightmare like.” And then a top millicent came in with like stars on his pletchoes to show he was high high high, and he viddied me and said: “Hm.” So then they started. I said:
“I won’t say one single solitary slovo unless I have my lawyer here. I know the law, you bastards.” Of course they all had a good gromky smeck at that and then the stellar top millicent said:
“Righty right, boys, we’ll start off by showing him that we know the law, too, but that knowing the law isn’t everything.” He had a like gentleman’s goloss and spoke in a very weary sort of a way, and he nodded with a like droogy smile at one very big fat bastard. This big fat bastard took off his tunic and you could viddy he had a real big starry pot on him, then he came up to me not too skorry and I could get the von of the milky chai he’d been peeting when he opened his rot in a like very tired leery grin at me. He was not too well shaved for a rozz and you could viddy like patches of dried sweat on his shirt under the arms, and you could get this von of like earwax from him as he came close. Then he clenched his stinking red rooker and let me have it right in the belly, which was unfair, and all the other millicents