to hear what it is that you have to say. My very dear chap, be brave and tell all—

each one of us gets such joy from your gall.

Well then listen. The story is worth hearing. I went rushing from here right behind him. He was inside bursting with verbiage, hurling his thunder, attacking the Knights with fantastic stories, mountains of words, shouting they were conspirators—his speech was very convincing. The whole Council, as it listened to his lies, grew spice hot,

with gazes like mustard and eyebrows tense. When I saw they believed what he was saying and were falling for his lies and bull crap, I said, “Come on, spirits of impudence, you cheats, you boobies, you rogues and rascals, and the Market, too, where I was brought up as a child, give me boundless brazenness, a salesman’s chatter, and a shameless voice.” As I was saying this to myself, a man whose arse hole had been buggered out of shape

let rip a fart to my right, an omen from the gods for which I gave them thanks. I banged the barrier and knocked it over

with my bum, opened my mouth really wide, and shouted out, “Members of the Council, I bring excellent news, and I am keen you be the first to hear it: since the time this war broke over us, I’ve never seen sardines at a cheaper price.” Their faces immediately relaxed—they were prepared

to crown me for my good news. So I said, as if I were telling them a secret, that in order to buy lots of sardines for just one obol, they should with all speed confiscate all bowls from pottery shops.

They looked at me with their mouths wide open and applauded. But the Paphlagonian, guessing what I was up to and knowing the kind of talk the Council really loved, made a propoal, “Gentlemen, I think,

in honour of this wonderful event which has just been reported, we should now offer a sacrifice to the goddess— one hundred oxen for this happy news.” The Council then swung back his way again. So when I noticed I was being beaten by his bullshit, I upped the ante on him by shouting out, “Two hundred oxen!” And then I recommended they make a vow to Artemis, offering a thousand goats

the following day if the price of sardines was a single obol for a hundred fish. The Council was looking my way once more, and eagerly. The Paphlagonian, when he heard what I had said, was stunned— he started to prattle raving nonsense. So then the presidents and the archers began to drag him off. The Council members stood around babbling on about sardines. The Paphlagonian kept pleading with them,

saying, “Wait a little, so you can hear what the Spartan messenger has to say. He’s arrived here with a peace proposal.” But with one voice the Councillors all cried,

“Why sue for a treaty now? My dear fellow, it’s because they’ve learned our sardines are so cheap. We don’t want treaties! Let the war go on!” They called for the presidents to adjourn the assembly and then jumped the railing in all directions. I snuck off quickly

to buy up all the coriander seed and onions on sale in the marketplace. Then I passed them all around free of charge as seasonings, a gift to Councillors, who had no spices to put on their fish. They all sang my praises and lavished me

with their attention. So I won over all the Council with some coriander— an obol’s worth! Then I came back here.

In all of these things

you’ve been very good, getting your way as a lucky man should. The rascal’s now knows that he’s met defeat— another man beat him at being a cheat, a far greater rogue, with many more tricks, and intricate lies,

and smooth talk that sticks. You need to take care to come off the best when you fight once again and are put to the test. You’ve known for a while that we are a friend, your trustworthy ally right to the end.

Ah ha! Here comes the Paphlagonian,

driving a fearful swell in front of him, seething and foaming, as if he’s ready to swallow me up. My goodness, he’s brash!

If I have any of my old lies left, I’ll wipe you out—otherwise I’m done for, completely up the creek!

I love your threats! Your smoke-and-mirror chatter makes me laugh and dance a horny jig—the chicken dance!

By Demeter, if I don’t eat you up, kick you out of here, I’ll never survive.

If you don’t eat me up? And I won’t live,

Ah ha! Here comes the Paphlagonian,

driving a fearful swell in front of him, seething and foaming, as if he’s ready to swallow me up. My goodness, he’s brash!

If I have any of my old lies left, I’ll wipe you out—otherwise I’m done for, completely up the creek!

I love your threats! Your smoke-and-mirror chatter makes me laugh and dance a horny jig—the chicken dance!

By Demeter, if I don’t eat you up, kick you out of here, I’ll never survive.

If you don’t eat me up? And I won’t live,

if I don’t drink you down and then explode with you stuffed in my guts.

I’ll destroy you— I swear that by the privileged seating I won by my victory at Pylos.

My, my—privileged seating! How I long to see you tossed from your privileged seat and sitting in a row right at the back.

By heaven, I’ll have you clapped in the stocks!

What a nasty temper! Now, let me see—

what can I give you to eat? What nourishment would you find truly sweet? Why not this purse?

I’ll eviscerate you with my nails!

I’ll pare down your Pyrtaneum dinners!

I’ll drag you to Demos—I’ll have justice from you!

Then I’ll haul you off to him— I can produce more slanders than you can.

You poor idiot! He won’t believe you. I play around with him just as I wish.

You think of Demos as someone you own.

It’s because I know all the finger foods he likes to nibble.

Yes, but you feed him like a dishonest nurse—you chew the food, then give him a small piece, once you’ve swallowed three times as much yourself.

Besides, with my skill, I can make Demos do whatever I want—

I can open him up or close him tight.

Well, I can do that, too—with my arse hole.

Well, my dear fellow, you won’t be a man who’s known to have showered me with insults

there in the Council. Let’s go to Demos.

There’s nothing to stop us. So come on then.

Get moving. We should not just stand here.

Demos! Come on out here!

Yes, father, for Zeus’s sake, come outside!

Come out, dearest little Demos— so you can see how I am being abused.

Who’s doing all the shouting? Get out of here— leave my doorway! You’ve torn this apart, my harvest wreath.

Ah, Paphlagonian, who’s being nasty to you?

Because of you

I’m being assaulted by this fellow here and by these young men.

Why is that?

Because I am your loving friend, Demos, and am very fond of you.

And who are you?

I am this man’s rival. For a long time I have loved you and wished to help you out— along with many other fine good people. But we have not been able to do that, because of this man here. You’re like those lads who play around with lovers, refusing

worthy, decent men and giving yourself to lamp dealers, cobblers, shoemakers, and men who trade in leather.

I’m being assaulted by this fellow here and by these young men.

Why is that?

Because I am your loving friend, Demos, and am very fond of you.

And who are you?

I am this man’s rival. For a long time I have loved you and wished to help you out— along with many other fine good people. But we have not been able to do that, because of this man here. You’re like those lads who play around with lovers, refusing

worthy, decent men and giving yourself to lamp dealers, cobblers, shoemakers, and men who trade in leather.

Yes, because I am good for Demos.

All right, tell me just what do you do for him?

What do I do? When the generals were dithering around, I sailed in there and then brought those Spartans back from Pylos.

And I, while strolling around, stole a boiling pot from someone else’s shop.

Demos, summon an assembly right now

to find out which one of the two of us is more friendly to you. And then decide, so you can make that man the one you love.

Yes, do that. Make a choice. Just don’t do it at the Pnyx.

I would not sit in judgment

in any other place. So we must move up there. You must appear before the Pnyx.

Bloody hell, I’ve had now. The old man is very sensible when he’s at home, but whenever he sits down on that rock

he’s a gaping idiot, just like some child trying to catch figs with its mouth wide open.

Now you must spread out all your sail— keep your spirit strong. Do not fail in argument. Beat down that man. He’s tricky—always with a plan when he seems done for. So attack like a raging wind. Don’t hold back!