'That looks grand,' said Alderman Tom Bowler.

'Yes, and you have to have a glittery glove on one hand—'

'That's important, is it?'

'Yes, and you have to say "Ow!"'

'I should think anyone would, dancing like that,' said the Alderman.

'No, I mean like "Oooowwwwweeeeeah!", with

Johnny stopped. He realized that he was getting a bit carried away.

'But, look,' he said, stopping at the end of a groove in the gravel. 'I don't see how you can be dead and walking and talking at the same time ..."

'That's probably all because of relativity,' said the

Alderman. He moonwalked stiffly across the path. 'Like this, was it? Otich!'

'A bit,' said Johnny, kindly. 'Um. What do you mean about relativity?'

'Einstein explains all that quite well,' said the Alderman.

'What, Albert Einstein?' said Johnny.

'Who?'

'He was a famous scientist. He ... invented the speed of light and things.'

'Did he? I meant Solomon Einstein. He was a famous taxidermist in Cable Street. Stuffing dead animals, you know. I think he invented some kind of machine for making glass eyes. Got knocked down by a motor car in nineteen thirty-two. But a very keen thinker, all the same.'

'I never knew that,' said Johnny. He looked around.

It was getting darker.

'I think I'd better be getting home,' he said, and began to back away.

'I think I'm getting the hang of this,' said the Alderman, moonwalking back across the path.

Til ... er ... I'll see you again. Perhaps,' said Johnny.

'Call any time you like,' said the Alderman, as Johnny walked away as quickly yet politely as possible. 'I'm always in.'

'Always in,' he added. 'That's something you learn to be good at, when you're dead. Er. Eeeeyooowh, was it?'