# HE'S THE MAN

I'LL BE A RATHER SORRY INDIVIDUAL.

- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
- CLIMBING OVER A FENCE.

HAVING WASHED MY HANDS.

- I'M PUTTING SOMETHING BACK.
- STILL ANNOYED ABOUT THAT BOOK?

YEAH.

ARE YOU JUST FLIRTING IN THAT SORT OF
CRUDE WAY THAT MIDDLE-AGED DIVORCEES DO?

- WHO WERE PLAYING?
- WE WERE.

OH, GOD.

BUT CAN YOU DO THIS?
(MAKES CLICKING NOISE)

- SHE WAS FRIGHTENED.
- YEAH. I KNOW.

I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I'LL DO.
I'LL DO A QUICK FIX ON IT FOR NOW, AND...

WHEN THEY'RE PULLING YOUR WIPERS
AND HUB-CAPS OFF, YOU LOSE SYMPATHY.

IT'S JUST CRUEL, ISN'T IT?

IT'S NOT
BECAUSE WE HAVEN'T DECIDED ON THE TILES YET.

BUT EVEN THEN IT WAS STOLEN,

SHE STUCK TO HER GUNS WITH ALL THAT
RIGHT TO THE END, EVEN ON THE LAST DAY.

LEVEL WITH ME, PIET. HAVE I GOT THIS JOB?