Walter Crowther, head of British Industrial’s infamous Foods Division, was renowned for his enthusiasm. All the while totally losing his appetite, Geraint would have to listen to endless details of how factory animals could be stuffed full of synthetic hormones and growth enforcers. Crowther had a ghastly ambition, and talk of it was always prefaced by "Did I ever tell you . . . ?" This; was the signal for a set speech about how he was hoping to breed a rabbit the length of a telephone pole so it could be neatly chopped into Rabburger Bunny Chunks in an endless series of slices. "Length of a cricket pitch I’d settle for," he’d then say, the cue for him to begin reviewing England’s cricket team for the last sixty years. Geraint just couldn’t face it, but catching sight of a chambermaid hefting a trolleyful of fresh linen into an elevator gave him an idea.