He has one slice in which to get it right. Disaster will result if he messes it up. A lot of money (and a lot of artistic temperament) is in the room. Knuckles are desperately held between teeth. Everyone silent as a ghost for the one and a half minutes it takes for the cut to be made, the adhesive applied, and the tape played back. Because he is lord of all, it never goes wrong; it is pristine on the first shot. He gets to rest awhile with his feet on the cream leather puff, having coffee and biscuits brought to him for a change by whoever the bosses are. He is cosmetic surgeon to the stars.
