Once More With Footnotes

there in the corner. Very useful for my cul inary efforts but not for much else."
     
                  "Hm. I see. Have you a map of Hell handy?"
     
                  "I think so." The Devil rummaged in an old oak desk behind him and produced a roll of yellow parchment. "This is the newest map I have."
     
                  "It'll do. Now let me see. Hum. I take it this is where we came in. "
     
                  " Yes! That shading is the Sulphur Plain."
     
                  "That's good. I'm sure the Acme Mining Company' would give a lot to have the mining rights — "
     
                  " Oh, yes?"
     
                  "Of course, we would have to build a proper road over it for the incr eased transport "Oh, yes?"
     
                  "Get a large tunnel dug down from Earth — "
     
                  "Coffee bar here. Dance Hall there. Race track a t the far end. Bowling Alley over — "
     
                  "We could put a Fun-fair here — "
     
                  " Leaving room for a restaurant there — " "Put some ice-cream stalls here and here, and here — " "All-night Jazz band there. Get in touch with your demons and offer them higher wages to come back to help run the place — " "Get Orpheus to organize a Jazz band — I'm sure Apollo would oblige — " And so it continued. Soon the map wa s covered in symbols representing everything from a dance hall to a cycle-track. Then they sat back and discussed Stage One: putting Hell in the public eye.
     
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                  Of course, there were difficulties at first. The time when the Devil materialized in the middl e of the pitch on Cup-Final day springs to mind. Still, he got a front page splash in all the popular newspapers. A famous Brewery sued him for loss of custom, since most of the Cup Final spectators signed the pledge after seeing him.
     
                  Telephone lines all over the world smouldered, melted, and slowly fused together as Crucible was plagued with offers from the big financial magnates. Advertising firms fought for the Devil's patronage. Work on the London-Hell tunnel was progressing fast under Crucible's sup e rvision. The Devil moved in with him, saying that all the cranes and bulldozers and what-not were making Hell hell.
     
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                  "See how Cerberus loves his 'Yummy-Doggy!' Your dog can have that glossy coat, those glistening fangs, those three heads, if you feed h im 'Yummy-Doggy'! 'Yummy-Doggy' in the handy two-ounce tin! Cerberus says 'Yummy-Doggy' is scr-r-rumptious! Ask for 'Yummy Doggy'!!"
     
                  "Men of distinction smoke 'Coffin-Nales'!"
     
                  "Tell me, Lucifer, why do you smoke 'Coffin-Nales'?"
     
                  "I like that cool, fresh feeling; the flavour of the superb tobacco; the fifty pounds your firm's paying me for these corny adverts — "
     
                  "Tell me, sir, what are your views on the Colour Bar?"
     
                  "Well, I — er — I mean to say — um — er well — er that is — "
     
                  "What do you think of the y ounger generation?"
     
                  "Well — er — um — ah — yes! Definitely!"
     
                  "Do you agree that violence on television is responsible for the deplorable increase in the Nation's crime statistics?"
     
                  "Well, ah — um — no. That is to say, er — yes. I mean, er — no — ah — um."
     
                  "Thank you very much, sir, for coming here tonight and giving us your views on topics of immediate concern. Thank you. Well, ladies and gentlemen, tune in next week for another — "
     
    -
     
                  Crucible surveyed the company dispassionately. There was the usual bevy of disgrunt led back-benchers, would-be starlets, bored reporters, and of course, the usual fatigue party of Guards, all sipping themselves horizontal on third-rate champagne. A motley and mottled crowd. Crucible, who was becoming quite an expert on crowded atmospher e s of late, diagnosed this one as a particularly fruity blend of stale smoke, Fleurs de Mai, and methane, not to mention the occasional waft of carbon monoxide. He turned to the Devil, who was performing wonders with the cocktail