Before she could answer, the waiter sprang at his chance to brush some crumbs from David's chair. He had been hanging around their table like a vulture, waiting for them to eat the last papadum crumb so he could take away the basket. He eyed the last piece sadly, as if it were the barrier between him and eternal happiness. Ginny grabbed it and shoved it in her mouth. The man looked relieved and took the basket but immediately returned to stare mournfully at their water glasses.

Rory: "People are being serious."

Jazza: "There's a serial killer out there. Of course people are being serious."

Rory: "Yeah, but what are the chances?"

Jazza: "I bet all of the victims thought that."

Rory: "But still, what are the chances?"

Jazza: "Well, I imagine they are several million to one."

Jerome: "Not that high. You're only dealing with a small part of London. And while there might be a million or more people in that area, the Ripper is probably focusing on women, because all of the original victims were women. So halve that--"

Jazza: "You really need another hobby.

I sleep better knowing that a naked cork-eater is not sneaking around at night, stealing my underwear.

Lecturing Brooks was as useful as lecturing a cat.

Did you ask people to crime scenes on dates?

I try to shake it loose-but these ideas, they cling. It's like I'm shackled to them with an iron chain. They rattle along behind me, dragging against the ground, always reminding me of their presence.