‘Er, come to pick up a parcel from Dobbermanley…’

‘No, Dobbley. Wait, not ready.’

‘You ever go on a motorcycle?’

‘What?’

‘What I’m saying is that if you’ve never been on a motorcycle I could take you out on mine. Kind of fantastic fun? Sanuk!’

I tried to keep the leer out of my voice and my smile, but it was hard going.

‘You crazy.’

‘Sure, sure, but the thing is you’ve blown my mind away and I couldn’t leave without trying.’

‘Impossible!’

‘Nothing’s impossible. Where you from anyway?’

‘Not talk. Go sit and wait.’

‘Look, I’m only trying to be friendly.’

‘Not want. I only talk for work.’

‘Jesus, what kind of shit is that…’

The next thing I knew, some jerk grabbing me by the collar of my jacket and throwing me across the room with enormous violence. I’d come off motorcycles enough times to know how to take a fall and bounce back on to my feet ready for more.

The guy was short but broad, planted on feet widely spaced. Hair cropped so sparse he seemed a dead ringer for ex-army. Looked like he’d withstand a nuclear blast. I picked up my helmet, appearing like I’d given up, suddenly coming up fast, flicking the thing at his head. Inspired by those old Kung-fu movies they keep showing. As he reared backwards under the onslaught, I charged his body. Off balance from the lid cracking into his face, by the time I reached him, he was flailing against the wall and I had all the time in the world to pump my knee into his groin. Die baby, die.

I picked my helmet up and decided to get out before the hooligan recovered.

‘You wanna ride, babe?’

The sudden adrenaline rush making me try once more, but she’d turned into an ice maiden and the thug was stirring on the floor. They were welcome to each other.

Outside, some kids were perched on the bike, making like racing stars… I screamed at them and they scattered; doubtless if I’d hung around for a few moments their extended family would’ve accused me of child abuse, Asian children revered as little gods rather than obese pains in the arse – the dreadful social workers in the UK weren’t the only arseholes in the known universe.

Kicked the bike into life, played with the throttle until the windows of the building threatened to shatter and skittered off the pavement into the traffic as if I didn’t have a care in the world, though I’d messed up another job and would have to avoid that area for a little while. No great loss.