It was good to be alone. Miles was not as gregarious as the company he kept implied. Eileen had gone with her Irish coven to Agbor for the weekend, the Guinness boys were in Lagos, John was having a two day massage. Miles had obtained a Tupperware sandwich box of sticky weed, and videos of Jacob's Ladder and All That Jazz: life had been worse. In years to come, the fat cone - fat at one end only, obviously - he had assembled for himself may become known as the Camberwell Carrot, but for now, it just looked like a fat spliff. Miles stuck Jacob's Ladder into the VCR, placed the remote on the sofa and 'lit that candle'. All motive force left Miles' body and passed into his mind. He obsessively considered the possibility of
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