Bedazzled Page #2

Silly old me.

Cor blimey!

I left my hankie at Wimpy's.

I wonder if you'll excuse me.

Don't rush away, Mr. Moon.

You're a nutcase.

You're a bleedin' nutcase.

They said the same of Jesus

Christ, Freud and Galileo.

They said it of a lot

of nutcases too.

You're not as stupid as you

look, are you, Mr. Moon?

What can I do to convince

you that I'm the devil?

Supposing I granted you your

dearest wish here and now?

What about that girl at Wimpy's?

Margaret Spencer?

Yes.

How do you know about her?

And how do you know

so much about me...

where my socks are and

who my grandfather was?

I told you.

I've been taking an interest in you.

Look, well, supposing I, um...

gave you a trial wish.

No obligation on your part.

Just to get acquainted.

Is there anything in the

world you really desire?

Margaret Spen...

Aside from Margaret Spencer.

We'll save her till later, when

you sign. Anything else?

Um... a Frobisher and Gleason

raspberry-flavored ice lolly.

Very well, Mr. Moon.

Conclusively to prove that

I am indeed the unholy one...

a Frobisher and Gleason

raspberry-flavored ice lolly...

shall be yours...

in a trice.

Here you are.

Thank you.

Oh, um, have you got sixpence?

I've only got a million-pound note.

- Thank you.

- Ta.

Convinced?

Do me a favor.

I could have done that myself.

I thought you were

gonna conjure it up.

You're just like all the rest, aren't you?

No proof is good enough.

I want a miracle.

A rain of toads or something.

All right then. Which of the

cheap tricks is it gonna be?

Wine into water?

Stick into serpent?

How about flying through

space at the speed of light?

How about you checking in to the nearest

loony bin for a few weeks' holiday?

O ye of little faith, Moon.

You're not wearing nylon

underwear, are you?

Why?

It disintegrates at high speeds.

Prepare yourself.

The magic words:
I.B.J.

Here, my ice lolly's melted.

You really must be the devil.

Incarnate. How do you do?

Oh. How do you do?

Where are we? Is this hell?

Just my London headquarters.

That's not your name, is it?

George Spiggott?

Come on in. It's one of my many

earthly pseudoplumes, or nom de nyms.

I thought you were called Lucifer.

I know. The Bringer of the

Light, it used to be.

Sounded a bit pouffy to me.

God keeps changing his

name too, you know.

He used to be called the Word.

Yeah."ln the beginning was the Word."

"And the Word was God."

Was there just a word

hanging about in space then?

I suppose so.

I wasn't there.

What's it mean,"the Word"?

What does"Stanley Moon" mean?

Evening, Anger.

It's all right, Anger.

He's with me.

Come in, Mr. Moon.

I'd like you to meet Anger.

He works for me.

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