"There is a bridge and on that bridge there is a man and that man he says dive and what do you, what do you do? You dive my friend because that man he stands there for a reason, he doesn't stand there for his own plaisir; he stands there for your benefit, for you my friend and how are you to receive this man? You are to dive and as you plunge you are to turn your head retaining that streamline, that glorious figure, that perfection of man spoiled only by cheap clothing and lowered standards and you are to look him in the face avoiding eye contact and you are to say 'thankyousir' and he will nod but you will not notice because by then you will be beneath road level and passing the supporting girders which arch high over the river and you will turn forward and you will pick up speed just a fraction and in that acceleration you will see where you have been led."
And then she launched into a thrilling rendition of 'There She Goes', her lips kissing out the lyrics in a prim English accent and her bare arms stroking the harp strings.
I tossed a pound into the padded guitar case and continued down the tunnel, oblivious to any acknowledgement.
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