What Abigail Did That Summer (Rivers of London, #5.3)

by Ben Aaronovitch

I’m sitting in an interview room in Holmes Road police station. It’s not like the ones you see on TV, with bare walls, a table and an old-fashioned twin-deck tape recorder. Who makes those machines anyway, and where are they getting the cassette tapes from? Somebody somewhere is making a ton of cash selling obsolete gear to the Metropolitan Police.

Yes

I hate it when people ask me stupid questions. You’re chatting about something and they say something like, ‘Photosynthesis? What’s that?’ with that stupid look on their face like they is proud of their ignorance or something. I’m thinking, you’ve got a phone, right? Look it up. But if you say that, they just tell you they can’t be bothered because, ‘Photosynthesis? If it was important, right, there’d be an app.’ So I don’t say that.

Irritating indeed