Two of Syd Barrett’s friends visit from High Wycombe. Glyn, feline and muscly; Mac, skinny blonde bespectacled. They are good value, with the same cheerfully unconcerned Pinterishness that Syd performs. One night after the pub Glyn takes exception to something I’ve said, and turns on me. His eyes are dead and it’s suddenly much more Pinterish than I am up for, until Mac breaks the threatening spell:
“Hey’d I tell you I went to see Iggy Pop at the Rainbow last week?”
” N0,” I say, turning to him, relieved, ” how was it?”
” It woz great. I gobbed on Iggy’s leg.”