Always it’s the clown who is the problem when the bar closes. Quite often it takes no fewer than three men to toss him out, but as soon as they’ve eased him down into the barrel, which stands ready outside, everything falls into place. Everyone in the neighborhood knows the rumbling sound and the characteristic thuds, produced each time the barrel has rolled a turn and the long, flat toes of the clown shoes slap the asphalt. And always there is someone who throws the window open and shouts: “People are trying to sleep!” And as always the barrel is held back for a moment, and you hear the clown, drunk and dizzy: “Whoop-de-doo!” he says from inside the barrel, “Whoop-de-doo!” before they roll on down the street.