But look at poor Derek. A severed sandbag is slumped over a jagged peak of broken glass.
Sand seeps slowly from the punctured bag.
Glass is spread everywhere and crunches under-foot. A muttered chorus of consent rises in confirmation. But there is a lone cough of complaint. My legs is cut and it's bleeding. Arthur Wass Derek Rain Derek Rain, private eye, has not removed the small cigar from his mouth.