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said.’
    ‘And since you will not leave me alone, you can help me.’
    ‘I already did. I identified “da-da-de-da-da” as music and I told you a pertinent story about Robert Johnson.’
    Jonny Hooker rumpled his brow and puffed on his cigarette. ‘Blues music is particularly da-da-de-da-da-de-da-da-de-da-da-deda-da-da-da-da.’
    ‘Then you’re definitely on the right track. You’ll probably have it sorted by teatime.’
    ‘You think so?’
    ‘Oh look,’ said Mr Giggles, ‘there appears to be a small child there, drowning in the pond. He must have fallen out of a paddle boat.’
    ‘Why would you want to distract me?’ asked Jonny. ‘I thought you were really trying to help.’
    ‘There really
is
a small child drowning,’ said Mr Giggles. And he pointed.
    Jonny followed the direction of the hairy pointer. Somewhere near the middle of the pond and quite out of reach of the nearest paddle boat, someone small was splashing frantically.
    ‘It
is
a child,’ cried Jonny. ‘Someone’s drowning there,’ he shouted. ‘Man overboard,’ he bawled at the top of his voice. ‘Someone do something.’
    But nobody did. The paddlers kept on paddling and the strollers-past strolled on.
    ‘A child’s drowning!’ shouted Jonny. ‘You in the boat, there – behind you.’
    ‘You’d best dive in,’ said Mr Giggles, ‘swim out there, save that child.’
    ‘You think so?’
    ‘No,
I don’t
. You’re a rubbish swimmer, you’d probably drown.’
    ‘But someone has to do
something
.’ Jonny Hooker was kicking off his shoes.
    ‘Oh no,’ said Mr Giggles. ‘Don’t be silly now, Jonny.’
    ‘You drew my attention to it.’
    ‘I thought it would cheer you up.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘
Schadenfreude
. It’s always cheering when someone’s in a worse state than you are. No, hold on.’
    But Jonny was now in the pond. He was wading and shouting, stumbling and falling.
    Rising and stumbling on.
    It wasn’t deep, the ornamental pond. It only went down aboutthree feet, even in the middle where the struggling child was. But a man can drown in two inches of water, or so we are told. And a swan’s wing can break a grown man’s arm and the Great Wall of China can be seen from outer space.
    The boaters were now taking notice of Jonny. They were clapping their hands and laughing. None of them appeared to be noticing the drowning child at all, though.
    Jonny struggled onwards, stumbling, falling, rising, pointing. Shouting, ‘Drowning child!’
    At last he reached the middle of the pond.
    The drowning child was nowhere to be seen.
    ‘Oh my God,’ cried Jonny. ‘The child’s gone under. The child’s gone under.’
    And Jonny dived. And dived and dived again.
    Ranger Connor was quite apoplectic. It didn’t take much to get him going nowadays. His temper wasn’t what it had been. He always seemed to be on the edge.
    And now he’d got himself all wet.
    And so had Ranger Hawtrey.
    It had taken the two of them to drag Jonny Hooker from the pond. And Jonny had put up quite a struggle. He’d punched Ranger Connor right on the nose. Ranger Connor had retaliated with a move that Count Danté (the world’s deadliest man) called the Strike of the Electric Dragon (which was named after the lightning on Venus, apparently).
    Jonny Hooker was hauled ashore unconscious.
    And Jonny Hooker awoke in hospital.
    It was Brentford Cottage Hospital that Jonny Hooker awoke in. It’s mostly for private patients now. Special patients, really.
    Jonny Hooker awoke to find himself struggling. Memories returned to him. The child in the ornamental pond. A park ranger with an attitude. A vicious blow to Jonny’s groin, one sufficient to put him beyond consciousness.
    ‘Ow,’ wailed Jonny. And then, ‘help!’
    Because he could not move. He had been secured to the bed. He was indeed held within a straitjacket.
    ‘Help!’ shouted Jonny. ‘Somebody help me, please.’
    A door that was closed then opened. A doctor appeared with a chart. This