The Piano Tuner

Jonny is all in a flap, like a chicken on acid. The Piano Tuner is coming.

The Piano Tuner last visited just over two years ago. At the time I dismissed him as just another crazy loon, intent on parting Jonny B from the LTLP's hard-earned money. But this time, there is something in his manner that makes me think of doom and destruction. Could this be the Big Boss. Could this be the man who controls The Man.

Even with the kind of advanced sound amplifiers that the government supplies to its agents these days, I can make out little of their conversation over the god-awful racket of some 18th century Communist. The Tuner complements Jonny on his instrument, they discuss some dates that I don't quite hear clearly, and before I know it, the Tuner is making for the exit. I put down my glass tumbler and watch him drive away.

Just like two years past, I can hear a muffled (but clearly poor quality) rendition of the theme-tune to Minder from the other side of the wall. I had previously considered this to be just another anti-establishment ditty, a light-hearted call-to-arms for the criminal underworld. Now I consider the terrible lyrics with a new trepidation:

If you want to, I'll change the situation.
Right people, right time - just the wrong location.
Sometime when you're feeling like a poor relation, call on me.
I'll give you more than conversation.
Take them. Shaking hands.
A deal.
Move it brother. I'll make you heal.

Oxford

I track the subject through the stark beauty of Northampton, and then on to drearily old-fashioned Oxford. The LTLP is addressing high-powered industry leaders today, Jonny B is clinging on to her coat-tails like a bird on an elephant.

His behaviour is perplexing. He stands for long periods, motionless, staring at the sky. There are other people doing much the same - most of them look vaguely foreign. At first, I believe this to be some kind of extremist mass worship. All that is missing is the chanting. Eventually I realise that this is not the case - these people are scouting for potential kamikaze airplane routes. They plan to attack Oxford, one of the major seats of learning in our fine country, with a fiery rain of terror from the skies.

Later, JB purchases a raw pork and leek pie from a vendor in the market square, and hastily evacuates into a local retailer. Perhaps he is purging his system of impurities before the final attack.

Chicken Four

I may have been wrong about the drugs.

Chicken Four has been sick for some time. I fear he may have been experimented on by JB. Chicken Four was always smaller than his brethren. Perhaps JB has been feeding him some kind of anti-growth hormone, which he plans to release into the water supply.

Chicken Four is not a well bunny.

Chicken Four shits on my floor.

Chicken Four is savagely murdered by Jonny B.

Of Chicken Four, there is no more.

Maybe he had to kill Chicken Four before his genes mutated.

Piff Paff Poof!

It's funny how sometimes you think you know someone, and then, poof, out of the blue, you learn something that completely changes your perception of them.

Listen, avid reader. Jonny B can do magic. I jest you not.

I'd popped around to have a talk about the curious disease that has been affecting Chicken Four of late. Jonny B is standing there, holding Chicken Five at about waste level. Jonny B appears to be a bit naked, as in he's not wearing any clothes, at all. I consider this for a moment, as I have been trained to avoid making snap judgements. I decide to garner more knowledge of the situation.

"Jonny? Why are you holding Chicken Five at about waste level, with more than the normal level of undress common in these parts?"

Jonny appears to be a bit stumped by this line of questioning.

"Umm," he says. "Umm. Because...I am practicing my magic? Yes. I am practicing my magic. That is what I am doing."

"Oh," says I. "You can do magic? May I see some?"

"Of course", says Jonny, more confident now. "Observe."

And sure enough, before my very eyes, Jonny removes first one, and then the second, hand from Chicken Five.

Chicken Five does not fall to the ground in the normal chickenny manner. Chicken Five is floating in mid-air! Chicken Five looks as surprised as anyone about this turn of events.

I return to my house with a new respect for Jonny B. If he can manage to levitate the whole chicken brood is this manner, there may be a new David Blaine in town.

I stare at Chicken Four, who is taking refuge in my conservatory. Chicken Four is looking introspective. It is a shame that he will never experience the sensation of floating before Jonny B's navel. I would have thought that would be the highlight of any chicken's career.

I get the olive oil out of the cupboard, and prepare to stick my finger up his arse.

Chickens

We go through the charade of purchasing chickens together.

There has been a lot of talk about high-quality chickens. Jonny apparently wants to buy the "Rolls-Royce" of the chicken world. Yet, by the time our chicken-perusal is complete, Jonny has settled on the chickens who reside closer to the Kia end of the market. These chickens cost barely more than a family-size bucket from KFC, and some of them wouldn't look out of place there.

Clearly, JB has realised that the sham of actually keeping chickens is going to eat into his skunk profit-margin.

Coup

Len the Fish toils on a wooden structure in Jonny's garden. For hour after hour, he nails, saws, hacks and tacks. Jonny makes him a cup of tea from time to time.

Len is very good with his hands, particularly when it comes to cultivating the 'erb. This structure appears to be some kind of advanced marijuana production facility. I wonder what kind of cut JB is going to give the Fish. I'm surprised he would let Jonny move into production - there must be a healthy sweetner involved.

Later in the day, JB asks me if I had ever considered keeping chickens. I play him for a while, and eventually he asks if I would like to share his new coup. This is a subtle strategy, I must say. Get me on side, then grow the skunk right under my nose. It reeks so bad I can almost smell it.