Sentence The Fivehundredandfiftysecond 

"What the Devil is going on?" asked Peter Boo, "where are we?" asked Geli Raubal: "it's the Upper Room," said Roxy Davidova, "the Last Supper," said Unity Mitford, "a living Tableau," said Laszlo Licinic, "it's Christ and His Disciples," and "that's impossible," said Peter Lorre, "ooo, aaaar," said the ornery Uncle Tom Cobley, "but oim starrrrvin'" and he crossed to the table: "can yer spare a mouthful for a poor ould traiveller, gents?" pulling up a stool and plonking his bum on it, he turned to wave the

others forward as the man opposite put some food on a spare plate and slid it to Uncle Tom, who started to devour it with no compunction about waiting for the others, and then the little girl from the Kit Kat Klub lavatory jumped up and reached across for food and started eating ravenously and the man in the middle clapped his hands and called for more and a couple of women entered carrying plates and more food and a third came in with a jug of wine and started pouring it out and one by one the group from the dark corridor drifted across and joined in the feasting and that was when a door crashed open and a well-proportioned man with flowing locks and beard strode in and stamped his feet in a parody of a tantrum: "no, no, NO! stoppit! that's the last food your gonna get, we're on a tight budget here and I don't have time for , , , , ," he caught sight of the new arrivals at The Last Supper and turned, helplessly to the one who sat still, watching him: "who are these? what are they doing here? we can't feed every stray cat that wanders in, nor any Tom, Dick and Harry!" and

seeming to identify Peter Boo as the leader, swung him around and looked closely into his face: "have we met before? are you a Sforza Man?" and he seemed about to examine his cranium but Peter gently removed the man's hands from his shoulders, and said in his most condescending voice, as if he were an Officer talking to his Batman: "no, no, dear chap, we're just a party of wayfarers with no fixed domicile, on our way to the Great Temple and when we heard the music and the clinking glasses, and well, we thought it was a Folk Club and felt we couldn't ignore the call of nature and came upstairs and this good man, he kindly invited us to break bread with him and his friends, pardon me for asking, but are you a Roman, you're not able to direct us to your Governor, Mr Pontius Pilate are you?" and the man took a step back, before pulling himself to his full height and saying for all to hear: "my name is Leonardo, perhaps you have heard of me, have been sent to make jest with me by one of my friends; I am the Court Painter to the Duke of Milan!"