Jack Vettriano An Imperfect Past II

Jack Vettriano An Imperfect Past IIJack Vettriano Amateur PhilosophersJack Vettriano along game a Spider
'Sounds like "Rocks, Rocks, Rocks",' said Cliff.
The door burst open and Dibbler half‑ran, half‑fell in.
'You've got to get out there!' he shouted. 'Right now!'
'I thought the Insanitary boys–’Glod began.
'Don't even ask,' said Dibbler. 'Come on! Otherwise they'll wreck the place!'
Asphalt picked up noticed it. But there was a twang on the edge of Buddy's words, a sibilance of strings.
'Oh, that. Of course,' said Dibbler. 'Got to cover expenses. There's your wages . . . wear and tear on the floor . . . heating and lighting . . . depreciation . . .'
The roar was louder now. It had a certain footstamping component.
Dibbler swallowed. He suddenly had the look of a man the rocks.'OK,' he said.'No,' said Buddy.'What dis?' said Dibbler. 'Nerves?''No. Music should be free. Free as the air and the sky.'Glod's head spun around. Buddy's voice had a faint suggestion of harmonics.'Sure, right, that's what I said,' said Dibbler. 'The Guild–’Buddy unfolded his legs and stood up.'I expect people had to pay to get in here, didn't they?' he said.Glod looked at the others. No‑one else seemed to have