[Based On A Real-Life Conversation]

I can tell you the precise moment when my brother decided to take out Kim Jong- un. Not in a polite, asking-someone-out-to-dinner kinda way. No. Who eats North Korean food apart from North Koreans, anyway? Little grey cubes of Communist Soylent tofu?

Hm, that terrorises the very notion of appetite. No, Damon was not asking the Asian enfant terrible to join him for supper and a movie.

[…]

At Bowjey Hill I heard a tuba being practised from number eleven, its gabled, gate- split door half open, the top partially swung inside. This was where the bloops came from.

I was unsure as to whether the fog was lifting or settling, but the music fit it well. I was walking into the unknown and I was pretty jolly about the whole escapade.

[…]