The Sow, weeping, handed over £200. Liz laid out the programme.

     'If you should be unfortunate enough to have contracted the disease, you have two choices. You may go to your own doctor and request treatment or ...,' in the long pause, the victim's frightened eyes welled again with salty terror. 'I can prescribe it for you privately, and confidentially.' The Sow's gusty sigh of relief rattled papers on the desk. Liz continued inexorably.

     'Some cases clear in twelve weeks, more intransigent ones can require twenty-four or even thirty-six weeks of treatment. Each treatment regime will cost you £500 and is supplied by mail. At the end of a course of treatment I will send you a small kit to use and return, to see if we have succeeded in eradicating the disease. Each kit costs £500.'

     Here she paused. The Sow nodded so vigorously several of her chins began random Brownian motion, shivering sideways or galumphing up and down at eccentric angles. Liz frowned and continued.

     'Today's consultation has been paid for by Mr. Helme. He wishes me to convey his sincere regret for any distress caused to you. Is there anybody with whom you have had ual contact since then?

     It was a hundred to one against, of course, but every so often one of these behemoths had been inspired by Matt's attentions to trap another man. It was easy to double the income from one appointment by arranging to 'examine' the poor fool. The patient shook her head dolefully. That was no surprise, generally if they were fat, they were also stupid, gullible and naïve. They were scared to consult their own doctors and they had too little life experience to see they were being gulled. Normal people, non-fat people, would never fall for this kind of thing. She knew it served them right.

     'Good,' said Liz, 'then we don't have to notify anybody else. If you'd like to rearrange your clothing I'll ring the laboratory on my mobile and organize a priority analysis.'