“I found a turtle mound today,” Mr Pontecorvo said to me. I was a little taken aback, and actually asked if he’d washed his hands between said discovery and shaking mine.
“I wonder if the eggs will be viable?” he added thoughtfully, stroking his chin, “If they are, I’m sure they’d make a nutritious meal, or maybe some sort of lubricant, or adhesive, or something…”
And he trailed off. I just looked at him. He had, after all, been going mad over adding features to some hunt system or other. No, I misspeak: he had gone, and we still have the bill to prove it.
No doubt he will make some statement about this sordid business, and hopefully he will wash beforehand.