‘Glease gud you all leg me garsed?’ I ask pitifully, massaging my aching jaw as I do so. They all stare back at me, not comprehending a word of what I’ve just said. Cue Winery Smalls again, who has obviously decided she’s going to act as my universal translator. ‘I think he may need us to do something for him!’ she says, leaning forward. ‘Would you like us to do something for you, Mr Bellows?’
