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A few extracts

Synopsis

Danny Zilber is a world-acclaimed trumpet player. A constant procession of women traipse through his dressing room, yet none can satisfy his need for love. Until, that is, an encounter with a mysterious woman who leaves just as quickly as she drops her panties …

Murder, sexual manipulation, viral infection, the abduction of Nazis – these are just some of the means Danny’s manager and his compatriots employ in order to safeguard the security of Israel and propagate German guilt. Meanwhile Danny holds dear the sole memento he has of that fateful meeting – the brassiere his ‘one and only’ left behind.

11
Danny  (Daniel Zilberboim, trumpeter, composer, poet; sixty-five years old)

I knew that she would come back, and she did. It all happened at the Royal Exchange in Manchester, towards the end of the second movement of ‘Widow on the Shore’. It was at the very peak of the famous six-bar trumpet pause, in that very dramatic shift from the dense strings passage to Marcello Buonaventura’s sparse two-bar castanets solo.

All of a sudden, I saw her. There was no room for mistake, she was just ten metres away from me to the right of the stage. I immediately recognised her gentle, intelligent eyes. She was standing there, a pillar of German beauty. I was emotionally hijacked. I started to walk towards her as I reintroduced the main theme. For the first time ‘Widow on the Shore’ sounded like a victorious fanfare. I walked to the front of the stage but I didn’t stop there. I continued forward, stepping on heads and shoulders.
I think that I was the first artist to walk over his crowd. The crowd raised their hands, trying to touch me. A few of them held my legs, some scratched me, others tried to take my trousers off, one or two even punched my balls, but I didn’t give up. I was determined to reach her and nothing could stop me. Playing the theme with full conviction, I waded towards her. I fell down more than once but each time raised myself up and continued. I never stopped looking at her over the edge of my horn bell. After one and a half years of yearning, no one was going to stop me. I couldn’t let her escape again. She looked very confused, I must admit. At one point I noticed that she tried to flee. I wondered whether it was because she was too embarrassed, but luckily enough she couldn’t get far, the place was too crowded....


Avrum (Avraham Shtil, showbiz tycoon; eighty years old)

Danny, ya don’t want to know. He deteriorated big mega-time. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He was dug in like a German soldier in Stalingrad. Every day, instead of getting better he got fuck’n worse. Believe me, waste of time. Because of this love fuck’n story his brain was gone. He was so desperate, so he started to write poetry like a teenage girl. He thought that he was as good as Shakespeare, Lennon or even Alterman, but guess what – while Alterman wrote about important Jewish subjects like a tray full with gold, Danny wrote only about those fuck’n boring subjects such as pain and misery. I told him, why don’t you learn from Lennon and write some poems about Jewish subjects: ‘Hey, Jew’, ‘All You Need is Love Oy oy oy oy oy’ – things that ordinary people can relate to......

 

Sabrina (Sabrina Hopshteter, former Long Arm agent; sixty-nine years old)

I was posted to the intelligence services or, more precisely, to the European Information and Surveillance Unit. It was clear that with my fair hair and complexion, as well being a polyglot, my future in the intelligence service was all but guaranteed. After three months in the unit, when my superiors fully appreciated my commitment to the Zionist adventure, I was sent to the prestigious Long Arm school for instruction in Female Counter-Espionage. For six months we underwent rigorous training. We learned to wink with passion, to grin politely, to obey against our will and even to cross our legs tightly. We were taught to exploit the innate masculine dependence on female beauty. For more than three months we studied in detail men’s psychological patterns. With the help of psychoanalysts from the Hebrew University in Jerusalem we scrutinised the roots of macho behaviour. As you can imagine, we learned about male physiology in great detail, from the blood vessels around the urethra to the very last nerve cells behind the ears. The Long Arm did whatever it could to prepare us for every possible scenario.....

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