Johnny glanced at Guilty, who snarled.

"No, I like a hand with all its fingers on," he said. "You lot come with me. I'd feel a right clod pushing this by myself."

The fourth wheel squeaked and bounced as he pushed the trolley down the street.

"Looks heavy," said Yoless.

There was a snigger from beside him.

"Well, they say Mr Tachyon was a very big man-"

"Just shut up, Bigmac."

It's me, he thought, as the procession went down the street. It's like on the Lottery, only it's the opposite. There's this big finger in the sky and it comes through your window and flicks you on the ear and says "It's YOU - har har har". And you get up and think you're going to have a normal day and suddenly you're in charge of a trolley with one squeaky wheel and an insane cat.

"Here," said Wobbler. "These fish and chips are still warm."

"What?" said Johnny. "You picked up her actual fish and chips?"

Wobbler backed away. "Well, yeah, why not, shame to let them go to waste-"

"They might have got her spit on 'em," said Bigmac. "Yuk."

"They haven't even been unwrapped, actually," said Wobbler, but he did stop unwrapping them.

"Put them in the trolley, Wobbler," said Johnny.

"Dunno who wraps fish and chips in newspaper round here," said Wobbler, tossing the package onto the pile in the trolley. "Hong Kong Henry doesn't. Where'd she get them?"

Sir John was normally awakened at half past eight every morning by a butler who brought him his breakfast, another butler who brought him his clothes, a third butler whose job it was to feed Adolf and Stalin if necessary, and a fourth butler who was basically a spare.

At nine o'clock his secretary came and read him his appointments for today.

When he did so this morning, though, he found him still staring at his plate with a strange expression. Adolf and Stalin swam contentedly in the tank by his desk.