‘Passes?’ I enquired of him. ‘What would passes be?’

‘They would be special passes that license you to enter the green room,’ the very big man told us.

‘Licence?’ I said. ‘Again the requirement for a licence?’

‘No licence pass, no entry,’ said the fellow.

‘This man deserves nothing less than death,’ I heard Toby whisper.

‘Would you respond to bribery?’ I asked the very big fellow.

But he, in sadness, shook his head and told us that it was more than his job was worth.

‘And what exactly is your job?’ I asked him.

‘I am a roadie for the Stones.’

‘My dad was a roadie for The Stones,’ I said, with a degree of wistfulness. As I hadn’t seen my dad for a couple of years.

‘Is your dad a big-bearded Scotsman?’ asked the very big fellow who guarded the green room door.

I agreed that he was.

‘Then your name would be Tyler. And that fellow with you, dressed as a postman – would be Andy.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But how do you know?’

‘Because I am your daddy,’ said my daddy. ‘I thought I recognised you.’

And indeed it was my daddy. Although I would not have recognised him, he had changed so much. The rock ’n’ roll lifestyle, I supposed. That, or he had shaved off his beard. (That, then, probably.)

And so we got into the Winnebago green room.

What a happy coincidence, eh?

We couldn’t see much in there due to the dope smoke. The Beatles boasted that they’d smoked dope in the toilets of Buckingham Palace, when they went there to collect their CBEs. But they probably said that in an attempt to look cool. In the hope that it would take right-thinking people’s minds off the fact that they had sold out and actually accepted CBEs. Outrageous!

But The Stones did have style and the green room heaved with dope smoke. And dope-smoking groupies.

‘Hello, ladies,’ said Andy, whose eyesight was perhaps the more acute. ‘I’m John Lennon – does anyone fancy a shag?’

And how well did that used to work!

We availed ourselves of the dope-smoking groupies.

And indeed of the dope that they were smoking.

Well, at least the others seemed to, anyway. I just bumbled about somewhat trying not to step on writhing bodies whilst breathing in an awful lot of dope smoke. And this went on for a considerable time, until Toby chose to introduce something new into the proceedings. A drug that I had not even heard of before. A drug that Toby told me was called a Banbury Bloater.

‘Banbury Bloater?’ I enquired as I floundered about somewhat in the smoggy Winnebago, searching for a groupie I could call my own. ‘What is a Banbury Bloater?’

‘Who said that?’ called Toby, his mouth somewhat muffled by bosoms.

‘It’s Tyler,’ I said.

‘Ah,’ said Toby. ‘Exactly who I’d hoped for.’

‘What did you say?’ I asked. Putting my hands upon something naked that didn’t belong to me.

‘Hands off my bum,’ said Toby. ‘I said, “Lets all do Banbury Bloaters.” You can do one first.’

‘Could I have some sex first?’ I asked. ‘I’ve been really hoping to get some sex, but so far-’ And then I said no more, because I became aware of a lot of female sniggering.

‘But I suppose that’s how it goes,’ I continued. Loudly. ‘When you’re Ringo Starr.’ And the sniggering stopped. But no one offered me a shag.

‘Down here,’ said Toby. And I located him in the fug. But did have to turn my face away. Because he was having sex. With two women simultaneously. How did he do that?

‘Stop ogling my bits,’ said Toby, ‘and score a Banbury Bloater.’

‘You were going to tell me why it was so called,’ I said. Accepting a large tartan something that strongly resembled a psychedelic gobstopper. ‘And what am I supposed to do with this?’

‘Firstly,’ said Toby, who continued with his dual-lovemaking as he spoke, ‘it is called a Banbury Bloater because it was developed in Banbury by a Druid named Pendragon Bloater. Pendragon was employed by the CIA to develop the drug. It was designed for soldiers in Vietnam, for them to take when they were dying.’

‘To revive them?’ I asked. Then I had to apologise to a groupie for stepping on her bottom.

‘To revive them? No. To send them on their way in a correct fashion. I read all about in it Conspiracy Theories Today magazine. Those soldiers in Vietnam, they are nothing more than sacrificial victims offered up to placate the War Gods. I bet you didn’t know that.’

‘I’ll bet you that I did,’ I said. Because I did.

‘Yeah, well, it has been in all the Underground Press,’ said Toby. ‘But the drug was designed to be taken at the moment of death to bestow a universal consciousness to those who took it. It’s not so much a psychedelic gobstopper.’ And Toby held this item towards me, between his forefinger and thumb, and I viewed it very closely amidst the swirling smoke. ‘It’s not so much a psychedelic gobstopper as a universe within itself. It isn’t a chemical, it’s a micro-universe. They’re everywhere, apparently, but you have to know where to look and then how to encapsulate them into a form that can be taken orally.’

I was staring at the psychedelic gobstopper. And I could see that although it appeared at first glance to be a solid glass marble sort of a body, it was in fact something rather more than that. The closer I looked, the further away it seemed. There appeared, indeed, to be an eternity of nothingness within this spherical something. A fathomless, bottomless pit in which microscopic galaxies gently revolved, and all this was very very cosmic indeed.

‘How many of these do you have?’ I asked of Toby.

‘Just the one, so far.’

‘And you are offering it to me?’

‘Well, you don’t think I’d be so dumb as to…’ Toby paused for a moment, though not in his lovemaking. ‘What I mean to say is that I’m not as cosmic as you, am I? You’d be the first to admit that you are very cosmic.’

I was aware of a lot of chuckling, but I did not consider that any of it could possibly be directed at me. Because, after all, Toby, with more awareness and wisdom than I would have given him credit for, had, in his way, struck the nail right upon its enlightened head. I was pretty cosmic. And if anyone would be the suitable someone to take such a cosmic drug, then that cosmic someone would be me.

Cosmically speaking.

So to cosmically speak.

‘Orally?’ I queried. Staring hard at the fair-sized cosmic something. ‘It does look rather big.’

‘What it appears to be and what it is are two different things,’ said Toby. ‘Just to the right a bit there, Marianne… yes, that’s perfect.’

‘What?’ I queried.

‘It has no absolute size. It inhabits no absolute time. It inhabits no absolute space.’

‘How exactly did you come by it?’ I enquired.

‘Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.’

‘That isn’t much of an answer.’

The groupies were growing restless. ‘Bung it in your gob,’ called Mama Cass.

‘Well,’ I said. And I wobbled a bit as I said it, because I had been breathing an awful lot of dope smoke. ‘I would take it, because I am pretty cosmic, but I’m just wondering whether-’

But whatever it was I was wondering, and I cannot in truth remember now just what that might have been, my wondering about whatever it was was abruptly curtailed by the opening of the green room door.

And Mick Jagger entered, tripped upon bodies and fell forward, right on top of me. Knocking me forward and the out-held Banbury Bloater right into my mouth.

And right, in a Cosmicky kind of a gulp.

Right deep down my throat.