'From each according to his abilities; to each according to his
needs.' cut little ice in the Marx household at 28 Dean Street.
With both his wife and maid pregnant by him and four children in
tow they had arrived in Dean Street having twice "done a
runner" from previous residences which they could no longer
afford.
Sandra had not been particularly well paid to pose in her bikini
but her picture on the side of Wernit's current can of Tennants
lager added a few more bubbles to Wernit's effervescence. He
loved his job, he loved all his girlfriends and he loved to play
the drums, it all seemed so unfair to Lump. Unfortunately the
only thing that made Wernit miserable was alcohol, and the thing
he loved to do most was get drunk. It was not his worry that the
van had a flat tyre in Old Compton Street; Lump would sort it
out. It was not his worry that they would be late; Buddy would
sort it out. He parted the mane of red hennaed hair to look at
Sandra on the can again. His tight jeans with holes at the knee,
red baseball boots and a pink woman's biker jacket hung from his
wiry frame in a manner totally in keeping with his surroundings.
From beneath the frizzy red busby of his hair, his mouth invaded
the pallid territory of his freckled face to assume a grin.
'You do realise,' he started, to gain their attention.
'You do realise it is only flat at the bottom.'