BIRD: You OK, dude?
BUFFALO: Do I sound OK? Of course I'm not OK. I'm fookin' depressed, OK?
BIRD: Not cos they're closing down yer library, like?
BUFFALO: Yes, cuz they're closing down my library. I've spent many a happy hour there. You know what they say about gal librarians with glasses, doncha? Well, it's all true. They go like rockets. Stick a strap on 'em and they could work for NASA.
BIRD: So you're sad that the site of your despicable acts with bespectacled damsel librarians whose names you no longer recall will be reduced to bubble rubble, innit?
BUFFALO: Not just that. I discovered Joyce there. And Henry Miller. And Reggie Chivers for chrissakes.
BIRD: Reggie who?
BUFFALO: Oh, don't give me that shit. Reggie Chivers, author of The Porking Principle.
BIRD: Sorry, dude, you lost me past the greyhound track.
BUFFALO: Oh, come on. It's a seminal work of the taffeta underground.
BIRD: Taffeta wot? Xplain, pliz, Lucy.
BUFFALO: Jeez. The Porking Principle, in a runt shell, is this: when one is porking, one feels a moment of pure joy and well-being, beyond pleasure and pain, longing and queueing. To pork is to know that one is truly in touch with one's personal enmity.
BIRD: I see. So it's a piece of hippy shit, like?
BUFFALO: Yup. Got good illustrations too. Angles you'd never have thought possible.
BIRD: And wot of Chivers now?
BUFFALO: Sadly no longer with us. Porked out at 50.
BIRD: Crikey. So he's the reason for your abject depravity and extreme self-reversion?
BUFFALO: Yup. And boy did I make those angles work, if you get m'drift.
BIRD: But how come his book was in the library? Sounds salacious. Radical even.
BUFFALO: I didn't get his book in the library. I read it in the library then tried out his theories, over in Fiction. And that's when I discovered Joyce and da udders.
BIRD: Right. So Actual Lee, you woz using the library as a porking shop, like?
BUFFALO: Didn't you when you were young and horny?
BIRD: Er, well, just the once. I admit, it gave the intermingling a certain frisson.
BUFFALO: You're right dere, Birdy. Somethin' about being surrounded by all those learned dudes' literary endeavours... gives me the wood just thinkin' 'bout it.
BIRD: Ah, Buffters, you truly are a genuine perv.
BUFFALO: Why, thank you, Birdman. And to that end, I have invited Clare along to the Science Fiction section today for an ickle space-age boffing afore they close the place for good.
BIRD: Nice.
BUFFALO: As da old Chivers used to say...
Pork while you may
Pork night and day
Pork till you drop
Pork underneath or on top
Pork till you stop
Pork, don't flop
BIRD: Porking at eleven?
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
BUFFALO: Do I sound OK? Of course I'm not OK. I'm fookin' depressed, OK?
BIRD: Not cos they're closing down yer library, like?
BUFFALO: Yes, cuz they're closing down my library. I've spent many a happy hour there. You know what they say about gal librarians with glasses, doncha? Well, it's all true. They go like rockets. Stick a strap on 'em and they could work for NASA.
BIRD: So you're sad that the site of your despicable acts with bespectacled damsel librarians whose names you no longer recall will be reduced to bubble rubble, innit?
BUFFALO: Not just that. I discovered Joyce there. And Henry Miller. And Reggie Chivers for chrissakes.
BIRD: Reggie who?
BUFFALO: Oh, don't give me that shit. Reggie Chivers, author of The Porking Principle.
BIRD: Sorry, dude, you lost me past the greyhound track.
BUFFALO: Oh, come on. It's a seminal work of the taffeta underground.
BIRD: Taffeta wot? Xplain, pliz, Lucy.
BUFFALO: Jeez. The Porking Principle, in a runt shell, is this: when one is porking, one feels a moment of pure joy and well-being, beyond pleasure and pain, longing and queueing. To pork is to know that one is truly in touch with one's personal enmity.
BIRD: I see. So it's a piece of hippy shit, like?
BUFFALO: Yup. Got good illustrations too. Angles you'd never have thought possible.
BIRD: And wot of Chivers now?
BUFFALO: Sadly no longer with us. Porked out at 50.
BIRD: Crikey. So he's the reason for your abject depravity and extreme self-reversion?
BUFFALO: Yup. And boy did I make those angles work, if you get m'drift.
BIRD: But how come his book was in the library? Sounds salacious. Radical even.
BUFFALO: I didn't get his book in the library. I read it in the library then tried out his theories, over in Fiction. And that's when I discovered Joyce and da udders.
BIRD: Right. So Actual Lee, you woz using the library as a porking shop, like?
BUFFALO: Didn't you when you were young and horny?
BIRD: Er, well, just the once. I admit, it gave the intermingling a certain frisson.
BUFFALO: You're right dere, Birdy. Somethin' about being surrounded by all those learned dudes' literary endeavours... gives me the wood just thinkin' 'bout it.
BIRD: Ah, Buffters, you truly are a genuine perv.
BUFFALO: Why, thank you, Birdman. And to that end, I have invited Clare along to the Science Fiction section today for an ickle space-age boffing afore they close the place for good.
BIRD: Nice.
BUFFALO: As da old Chivers used to say...
Pork while you may
Pork night and day
Pork till you drop
Pork underneath or on top
Pork till you stop
Pork, don't flop
BIRD: Porking at eleven?
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
