He has long blonde hair and is wearing a straw pork-pie hat.
He is also wearing a very short see-through net mini skirt, has an exposed midriff and a pair of unlikely tits.
The last copy I owned was eleven pounds, he tells me.
I study my computer screen. I tell him that we do not have a copy and that the new edition to be published in July will cost twenty pounds.
Twenty pounds, he says.
I am looking at the floor. Yes I say.
Why is that? he asks.
I look at my hands. I suppose it must be a coffee table edition, I tell him.
A coffee table edition? he says.
Yes, I say. I look at the ceiling.
Why? he asks, Why must they always meddle with things?
I know, I say.
Pah! he says then and adopts a flounce.
I watch him as he walks out onto the street proudly, head held high, swinging a handbag and I notice that it has started to rain.