Crouched between the table & the wall with his eyes in his hands & his mouth in the shape of a small barren island in the Atlantic Ocean he waits for the blow to fall
Opposite him in the angle formed by a filing cabinet & a drinks dispenser a tiny furry creature does the rat-fink-a-boo-boo its eyes blinking furiously its ears revolving like an out-of-control radar station
Somewhere a radio plays & a voice gabbles something about moonshine & binge drinking & little green men out of Upminister who are SERIOUSLY NO SERIOUSLY GONNA F--- YOU UP MAN
Later there will be music & lights & long legged lovelies will strut their funky stuff across the walls while a siren sounds in the street below & the woodentops come calling cudgels primed for some ******* ultraviolence