You’ve lost half the audience. They’re still trickling back from the bar. They’re more interested in their bags of sweets, their beer and their burgers than they are in you. They’re wondering if their bladders will hold out for the whole of the second half. They’re making last minute trips to the bog. They’re buying the kids a last packet of crisps. They don’t have their minds on the job. Mr Deeds knows it’s a bad slot. That’s why he gave it to me. He knew Olga wasn’t ready and he thinks I don’t matter. But I do matter. And if I’ve got an aim in life, it’s to show Mr Deeds and all the piss-piddle-poohs like him how much I matter. I sent Olga out first. She toddled down the aisle and climbed into the ring. And nobody hardly noticed. There she was in her black mask, looking like a lady executioner, and no one noticed. She stood in her corner like a good little girl and waited. And waited. Then, out of the speakers, came ‘Satisfaction’. I didn’t move a muscle.
