Peter Bowman looked back and discovered he had achieved his work of life, and so died. He told me he was quite pleased with the results. It could hang in his Auntie Em's Loo without being a disgrace to the neighbours.I talked to him briefly before he passed on to the section of the page I dare not type on.

'So Peter old chap. About time for you to discover what this novel is all about then.' I was somewhat concerned about his reaction and so held his hand gently throughout the following.

'Yes. I think I've almost got it. It's about saving the rhinoceros, isn't it?'

'Well, that would be very nice, but I'm afraid not. In fact, it saddens me to say that the rhinoceros is actually doing far better than your good self at this moment in time.' I was rather pleased to have worked an environmental issue into the final moments of Peter Bowman's life. I was sure that he would thank me for it when the actually final moment came.

'I see.' Peter Bowman thought this over for a time. 'Just how close is the rhinoceros to extinction again?'

'Pretty close, I'm afraid.' I patted Peter Bowman's hand tenderly.

'Yes. Thank you. My name is Peter-Bowman. That is not my name. Ah well. Such is life.' Peter Bowman breathed his last.

No. No. No way am I going to let Peter Bowman expire on a misbegotten cliche that was never even actually uttered by its attributee. This is just not going to happen. No way. I'm hammering on his chest. I'm breathing in his mouth right now. Fuck. What is the damn ratio? Breathe for me! You bastard! OK, it's five to one, I remember this. I can do it. Thump. Thump. Thump. Fucking hell. Five thumps to one breath? The other? Fuck.