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I spot her, leanin on a lamppost, smokin a cig. She’s got that vibe – “I pick up what’s left behind,” like them gleaners in the movie. I saunter over, all smooth, like I’m bout to dine on somethin exquisite. “Hey, darlin,” I say, “how’s the night treatin ya?” She smirks, blows smoke in my face – rude bitch! – and I’m pissed but kinda turned on, ya feel me? That’s the thrill of it – the hunt, the chase, like trackin a fine meal.

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So, I finish my scone, and I’m walking back home, feeling a bit lighter. But then, I see this massive puddle on the road. I’m dodging it like a ninja, but of course, I slip! I’m soaked! I’m laughing and cursing at the same time. “Ingleby-Greenhow, you’re killing me!”

Mystery still surrounds discovery of man's body in shallow grave, over 40 miles from home