Word: poppets
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...Love, is already under way, and there should be eight more after that. Looking ahead the cultist's mouth waters with prospects of death struggles on the Orient Express and feverish rendezvous with Vesper and Pussy Galore. Even the laymen seemed to like it last night, and as one poppet murmured on her way out of the theatre, "That's one limey who gets me where I live...
...honey love, it's no go my poppet...
Back in London, the Diaghilevian Esthete Ambrose Silk was about to publish Ivory Tower, a magazine arrogantly devoted to the arts alone and written by him alone, featuring a manifesto in the old avant-garde style of the '20s which insulted everybody and thing in sight. Poppet Green was "painting away like a mowing machine . . . bodiless heads, green horses and violet grass, seaweed, shells and funguses...
...Plum made him a second lieutenant ("There's a lot to be said for a uniform . ... best possible disguise for a man of intelligence") and said, "Catch a Fascist for me and I'll think about making you a Captain of Marines." Ambrose's magazine and Poppet's Marxed-up reflex to it furnished Basil with his Fascist. His betrayal of Ambrose is a piece of murderous satire which should at once warm and chill the hearts of hundreds of innocent, scared, suspected, non-fifth-columnists. It also helps bring the book into line...
...water as soon as possible, H. M. S. Formidable waited only for a crowd to gather, a band to tune its instruments and Lady Wood, wife of Britain's Secretary of State for Air, who was to christen the ship, to clear her throat, before slipping its poppet, breaking a cradle, careening down the ways. The wife of a shipyard employe was killed, 20 were injured. Caught napping, the band burst frantically into Rule, Britannia. Resolutely Lady Wood hurled a bottle of wine after the retreating ship, shouted her 50-word speech above a din of cries and crackling...