Mr. Monday and other tales of Jewish Amsterdam

DISPUTES 113

possession of their daily bread. The Amstelveld becomes lively when Sourbeer arrives, preceded by an empty beerbarrel which he rolls along by every now and then kicking it with his foot. That barrel is his pulpit. Sourbeer is an anarchist. He has eyes blue as forget-me-nots, the voice of a chaste spinster and the vocabulary of a dock-worker, the amiability of a rattlesnake and the tolerance of a headhunter. He speaks undiluted Amsterdam slang, his metaphors are more daring than those of Fockenbroque, his dislike of the police, the Queen and the Royal House of Orange is boundless. He is an atheist with a negative religion, because he rails at a G-d who doesn't exist. In his mincing voice he crows:

"The other day a lady was standing before me barrel and suddenly she says 'Sourbeer', she says,'they've pinched me bag. Look, they've cut it off at the handle clean as a whistle. Me purse was inside with all me housekeeping money, and oh Mister Sourbeer', she says,'What shall I do. Shall I go to the coppers and claim damages?'"

So I answer ' Woman,' says I, 'if they've cut off your bag the last thing you should do is to go to the cops because they will pinch the straps as well. But don't be sad, you would have lost your housekeeping money anyway because She of the Royal Family has to have a raise again, they can't make both ends meet. So now we have to fork out for the Royal House, yes ma'am. You may declare that there's a housing shortage, but I can name you a house that badly needs to be cleared away first, and that is the Royal House."

Sourbeer interrupts his cursing to poke fun at his neighbour, missionary Baas, who is talking from atop a