“If anything, it’s a destructive tendency, I have,” said Sebald. “I should stop, but if only they’d open this place already. I thought the gates of hell were supposed to be open night and day. First port of call is the cubicle to see if I can’t get this brain of mine more focussed on the important objective of doing some discreet rooting and tooting on the dance floor in-between bouts of indiscreet shaking and raking.”