Randy that bastard surprises us nicely after dinner with the flown-in hotshots when we are waiting for the cab in front of the restaurant, with suddenly his jovial “let’s go drive past the ladies over there” proposal. And a nod in the direction of further down the road. It takes a while for the penny to drop, and we understand that he is inviting us to go with him to the whores. That is clearer.

Then, you start to view someone differently. You hear this pathetic comment at the hotel bar. While leaning somewhat lost over the bar stool, with that boyish look of his shorts, the gritty shirt, and the flip-flops on his feet, while gulping in half a glass of whiskey, he says: my wife has left me.