Our token American was on the blower and he was furious! ”What did you expect sir? You were fated to expect the dastardly” he yelled, and then abruptly ended the call. ‘Sure’ i thought, ‘this’ll be a piece of piss, I’ll just nip down to the Seven-up store and keep my back to the wall’. Nothing of the sort happened. Terrible craziness was tracing an elliptical path into my inner cortex. Nevertheless, I kept my back to the back of my wardrobe, and artfully tried to secret myself in the folds of the clothing i had been orthodox enough to store inside. If only it was a wall! The lack of plaster next to my spine left a horrible feeling of incompleteness, and I quickly reached down into my back pocket to fondle the collection of antique etiquettes i had stolen from The Belgian’s bible collection. All of them were moist. What did that vile Yankee expect to gain? To increase the tread density in his carpet? There was no potential for me to win the case in question. What baseness was necessary for The Tavistocks? Still, I could do nothing other than keep taking it down, notch by notch, until the ether had reached the base of my spine.