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не надо искать пасхалки там, где их нет. не читали создатели этот роман, я гарантирую это.но на пасхалку переводчиков похоже.
Sorely's text:Sorely Twitchblade says: You're shayin' you wan... you wan... *hic* you wan' me to dansh on dis bar? *hic*Sorely Twitchblade says: Maeshtro! Cue da mushic!Sorely Twitchblade says: That hit the shpot! Gimmie anudder one, Coot! *hic*
The seance is over! Maestro! Hack out a march!' The half-crazedconductor, unaware of what he was doing, waved his baton, and the orchestradid not play, or even strike up, or even bang away at, but precisely, in thecat's loathsome expression, hacked out some incredible march of anunheard-of brashness. For a moment there was an illusion of having heard once upon a time,under southern stars, in a cafe-chantant, some barely intelligible,half-blind, but rollicking words to this march: His Excellency reached the stage Of liking barnyard fowl. He took under his patronage Three young girls and an owl!!!
'That concludes the evening! Maestro! Finale, please! ' The dazedconductor, scarcely aware of what he was doing, waved his baton and theorchestra struck up, or rather murdered a disorganised excuse for a march,normally sung to obscene but very funny words. However, it was quicklydrowned in the ensuing uproar. The police ran to the Sempleyarovs' box,curious spectators climbed on to the ledge to watch, there were explosionsof infernal laughter and wild cries, drowned by the golden crash of cymbalsfrom the orchestra.