A very athletic female dacoit was arrested in North Nazimabad in Karachi after she vaulted over a nine-foot wall, following her unsuccessful attempt at armed robbery in the house of a retired banker.

He was one of the miserable little pretty white-handed, curly-headed boys, petted and pampered by some of the big fellows, who wrote their verses for them, taught them to drink and use bad language, and did all they could to spoil them for everything in this world and the next.

Still deja vuing, I said, “Jinx. You owe me a Coke.”

Come to think of it, it must have been inspiration that put me off the main road that night. Otherwise, instead of being here, where would I have been? Half-way to Sydney by now, dead broke and dead to the world. As it is, here I am, snug as a bug in a rug.