The Toyminator by Robert Rankin

question?”
    Eddie drew out a chair and slumped himself down onto it. He grinned lopsidedly at the spaceman and said, “So, how’s it going, then?”
    “I come in peace,” said the spaceman. “Take me to your leader.”
    “Excuse me?” said Eddie.
    “Sorry,” said the spaceman. “That one always comes out if I don’t control myself. As does, ‘So die, puny Earthling,’ and, curiously, ‘I’ve done a wee-wee, please change my nappy.’ Although personally I believe that one was programmed into me by mistake. Probably Friday afternoon on the production line – you know what it’s like.”
    “I certainly do,” said Eddie, “or would, if it weren’t for the fact that I am an Anders Imperial, pieced together by none other than the kindly, lovable white-haired old Toymaker himself.”
    “I come from a distant star,” said the spaceman.
    “I thought you said production line.” Eddie Bear did paw-scratchings of the head.
    “Perhaps on a distant star,” the spaceman suggested.
    “Perhaps,” said Eddie, “but then again –”
    “Let’s not think about it.” The spaceman took up his glass, put it to his face, but sadly found it empty. “I was about to say, let’s just drink,” he said, “but I find to my utter despair that my glass is empty. Would you care to buy me a drink?”
    “Not particularly,” said Eddie. “But thanks for asking.”
    “In return I will spare your planet.”
    Eddie shrugged what shoulders he possessed. “I would appear to be getting the better part of that particular deal,” he said. “If I possessed the necessary funds I think I’d buy you a drink.”
    “Perhaps you could ask the barman for credit?”
    “Perhaps you could menace him with your death ray and get the drinks in all round.”
    “Perhaps,” said the spaceman.
    “Perhaps indeed,” said Eddie.
    The spaceman sighed and so did Eddie.
    “I wish I were a clockwork train,” said the spaceman.
    “What?” Eddie said.
    “Well,” said the spaceman, “you know where you are when you’re a train, don’t you? It’s a bit like being in a bar brawl.”
    “No, it’s not,” said Eddie.
    “No, I suppose it’s not. But you do know where you are. Which line you’re on. Which station you’ll be coming to next. It’s not like that for we spacemen.”
    “Really?” said Eddie, who was losing interest.
    “Oh no,” said the spaceman, ruefully regarding his empty glass. “Not a bit of it. We could be anywhere in the universe, lost in space, or on a five-year mission, or something. Drives you mad, it does, makes you want to scream. And in space no one can hear you scream, of course.”
    “Tell me about the monkeys,” said Eddie, “the clockwork cymbal-clapping monkeys. Tinto tells me that you know who blasted them.”
    “I do,” said the spaceman.
    “I’d really like to know,” said Eddie.
    “And I’d really like to tell you,” said the spaceman, “but my throat is so dry that I doubt whether I’d get halfway through the telling before I lost my voice.”
    “Hm,” went Eddie.
    “      ,” went the spaceman.
    “Two more drinks over here,” called Eddie to Tinto.
    “Dream on,” the barman replied.
    “Two then for the spaceman and in return he promises not to reduce Toy City to arid ruination with his death ray.”
    “Coming right up, then,” said Tinto.
    “I need a gimmick like that,” said Eddie, but mostly to himself.
    “Who did you say was paying for these?” asked Tinto as he delivered the spaceman’s drinks to his table.
    “You said they were on you,” said Eddie Bear, “because it’s the spaceman’s birthday.”
    “Typical of me,” said Tinto. “Too generous for my own good. But you have to be cruel to be kind, I always say. Or something similar. It’s all in this book I’ve been reading, although I seem to have lost it now. I think I lent it to someone.” Tinto placed two beers before Eddie and Eddie shook his head and thanked Tinto for them.
    “So,”