Nineteen Eighty-Four Page #3

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Anything special?

- I was here before.

- Ah.

- Razor blades.

- Ah-hah.

- You sold me the notebook.

- Yes. Yes.

Please, look round. Hm?

Ah.

What's this?

It's a beautiful thing.

It's over a hundred years old.

Cost you four dollars.

There's another room upstairs

that you might like to see.

Yes. There's not much in it,

just a few things.

My woman's dead.

I'm just trying to sell the furniture.

It's a beautiful bed,

if you can get the bugs out of it.

Interested in old prints at all?

The frame's fixed to the wall

but I could unscrew it.

How did this escape?

I know what it is.

It's the museum

in the street outside the Palace of Justice.

Oranges and lemons

say the bells of St Clement's.

What was that?

Something old.

War is peace.

Freedom is slayery.

Ignorance is strength.

A triumph of willpower oyer the orgasm.

At a rally of the Anti-Sex League

in Victory Square

held to celebrate a 50 per cent decrease

in ciyil marriages,

oyer 10,000 Party women

took a yow of celibacy

and pledged themselyes as yessels...

I hate her. I should kill her

before she denounces me.

I haye disliked her

from the first moment of seeing her.

Sector 43:
929 male, 753 female.

Sector 44:
437 male, 609 female.

- Are you hurt?

- Oh, it's nothing.

It's my arm. I'll be all right in a second.

Brother, could you?

- Are you all right?

- It's nothing.

I only gave my wrist a bit of a bang.

Thank you, brother.

Who is she?

All I know is that

she works in the Porno Section,

probably on the

proletarian noyel-writing machines.

- Mrs Parsons, a spanner?

- Under the sink, beside you.

Thank you, brother.

I wouldn't have had to bother you,

but my husband's out late - committees.

You know what us Parsons are like.

You're a thought criminal.

They haven't been out much.

Thank you, brother.

Attention. Your attention, please.

A newsflash has arriyed

from the Malabar front.

The forces of Oceania in south India

haye won a glorious yictory.

I am authorised to say

that the war against Eurasia

is within measurable distance of its end.

40,000 Eurasian soldiers

haye been killed or captured.

Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!

Hate! Hate! Hate! Hate! Hate!

- Can you hear me?

- Yes.

- Do you have an ex-London permit?

- Yes.

Can you get Sunday afternoon off?

- Yes.

- Take this.

It's quite precise.

I rely on you to destroy it.

Are you sure you can come?

Yes.

On your own, brother?

No, I'm joining the Vicmans

Community Hiking Group.

I was held up on urgent Minrec business.

# Sing to the sailors

on the floating fortress

# Sing to the soldiers

on the battlefield

# Sing to the airmen

in the burning azure

# Sing to the farmers' rising yields

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