The first thing I saw was Haussmann like the devil at the gates of hell, tugging at my arm. Next a doctor—a pale and sickly-looking man with regulation stethoscope dangling from his neck, who evoked sympathy rather than comfort. ‘Welcome back, Ollie!’ chuckled Haussmann. I could tell from the bricked-up windows, the arch of the ceiling, the damp, that damp in the sheets and my craving for sunlight, that I was in a cellar. On the wall opposite hung various tools that could only be for torture, some with electrical cables, while on my side were arranged the temporary facilities of healthcare. ‘You are a lucky man, you know. One of the benefits of my little team is that when something happens, we are there so fast you can’t imagine! You may think you are alone, but you are not: we always protect you!’ And with that Haussmann, glancing around, smiled. ‘Free healthcare, what a job you have! We have brought you to Brussels, you know . . .
