He speaks with a soft Bavarian accent.
What are you doing for the millennium, Jana? I’d love to be outside for it, I’m a person who likes to party. Do you love New Year’s parties, too, or is it all too much for you? I’d be interested to know what you fancy, what music you listen to, what your tastes are, how today’s, well, youth – that’s you, right? – yes, you’re still young, how they think, feel, what kind of stuff they think is deadly. All that interests me. But I think we might have to wait till we meet, right? Jana, do you have the radio on, or don’t you listen to the radio?
Music on the radio. Singing: I’m sitting in our kitchen on the coal box, coal box, dangling with my legs. For a year now in that coal box, coal box, our dear gran’s been lying dead. It’s because of granny’s pension, you do get used to it. My mum collects it for her, she tells them at the post office that gran is too unfit. Sundays gran leaves her coal box, we douse her with cologne. It’s the smell, insists Aunt Frieda, worried our cover might be blown. Dad hasn’t been to work since, he used to operate machines. We’ve got our granny’s pension, that’s what a dead gran means. Sundays gran leaves her coal box, we douse her with cologne. It’s the smell, insists Aunt Frieda, worried our cover might be blown. The other day the coppers came to take our gran away, who’d been there for a year or more. They took our gran away, who we all adore. Who we all adore. Gran had changed, she didn’t smell so great. The reason is that being in a box so long is not a gran’s ideal state. Is not a gran’s ideal state. Now the insurance company wants us to pay them back, 8000 marks for this full year. The bonus, too, for she was not yet seventy, oh dear. Not yet seventy, oh dear. So it goes – Dad is sent to gaol, as a measure of prevention. So no one thinks it’s fine, to take their dead gran’s pension. To take their dead gran’s pension. It’s what happens when you’re an amateur, not pro; license to profit from dead bodies was given long ago. To serious men in black who manufacture arms, to ABC etc, to those delivering napalm. To those delivering napalm. And I’m sitting in our kitchen on the coal box, coal box, dangling with my legs. Now the drums.
Drums. Singing: Tu ma tee na ka tam … is our… should be… One, two, three, a bale of hay and a sack of nuts for my darling today. Dam, dam, da da da da. La la la la la la la la la la la la. Right, I’m going to stop now, I’ll send you the cassette and then you can re-record it and send it back to me. Or no, that’s balls, just keep it. Keep it. Done. Finished. But I have to say something more, a prayer, in fact. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. Now he’s somewhere else, how odd. And so on.