'Hold on.'

'What?  What are you — ?  Hello?  Hello?  Kate?'

'…Okay.  Go on.  What's this about your teeth?'

'Your voish shounds echoey.  You're in a bashroom, aren't you?'

'Very astute.'

'Where are you?  You here in London?'

'No, I'm in Glasgow.  Now tell me what the hell's going on.'

'Shome bastard'sh taken out half my teesh.  I'm looking at it in zhe mirror now.  My moush ish all pink and…the fuckersh!'

'Mike, come on.  Get it together.  Tell me what happened.'

'I wash out.  I went to a club.  I met zhish girl.'

'Uh-huh.'

'Well, we ended up back at her playsh.'

'Clubbing and picking up some floozy.  Perfect preparation for the most important business trip of your career.'

'Don't fucking go shanctimonioush on me!'

'Don't go what?'

'Shanctimonioush!  Shancti-fucking-monioush!'

'Right.  So you went to a club and you scored.  How did this lead to you losing half your teeth?  Were they full of gold fillings?'

'No!'

'Well, was there a jealous boyfriend waiting for you back at her place?'

'No!  Well, I don't know!  All remember ish having a shnog and a drink and then nexsht shing I know I'm waking up in my own flat and half my teesh are mishing!  What the fuck am I going to do?  I can't go to Tokyo like zhish!'

'Hold on, you woke up in your own flat?'

'Yesh!  In my own bed!  Well, on it.  About ago!'

'Nobody else there?'

'No!'

'Have you checked your wallet?'

'Eh?  No.'

'Check it now.  And try to find your keys.'

The phone clunked down.  I sat frowning at the tiles on the far side of the bathroom.  Mike came back.

'All zhare.'

'Keys?  Money?  Credit cards?'