‘I’m telling you, a woman just came on to me, like a hooker would.’

Brant was staring at him and Roberts said:

‘Did you hear me, I think there’s a hooker here.’

Now Brant laughed out loud, said:

‘They’re all hookers, it’s a hookers’ party.’

Roberts, who’d been in all sorts of bizarre situations with Brant, couldn’t believe it, said:

‘You’re fucking winding me up.’

Brant was unsure what Roberts’ dilemma was, so tried:

‘Didn’t I say you’d get laid?’

‘Yeah, but…’

‘Well, come on, guv, you don’t think normal women are going to give it up to a battered pair like us?’

Roberts didn’t know whether to act offended or outraged. A woman came, took his glass and refilled it; he didn’t object, nodded in a dazed way and Brant clapped his shoulder, said:

‘That’s the spirit.’

Roberts tried to get his head round the deal. He couldn’t. Brant was having himself a hell of a time.

Roberts asked:

‘This may seem a stupid question but why are we at a party thrown by hookers?’

Brant did seem to think it was a stupid question and took another huge drink then focused, said:

‘They owe me and wanted to show their appreciation, and trust me, guv, there is no better appreciation than that of a grateful hooker.’

Roberts put down his glass, tried to look like he was the boss, said:

‘I’ll have to go, we have a major case going down and I’m… what? Hanging out with hookers.’

Brant forced another drink into Roberts’ hand, nodded, said:

‘Tell you what, we give it ten minutes and then we’re history. What can happen in ten minutes, am I right?’

Reluctantly, Roberts agreed. Ten minutes was nothing and it wasn’t as if he was pissed or anything, though he did feel a slight buzz. Brant signalled to one of the women and indicated Roberts. She smiled, began to move in their direction. The music had increased in volume and a neighbour banged at the door to complain, said he was going to call the police. He was not happy to learn they were already present before the door was slammed in his face.