“So. Miss Alice. Are you game?” The question is posed by an eminent novelist of about 70, who has sat on a Manhattan park bench and struck up conversation with a young woman reading a book.

And oh whoa girl, it's a shame. Oh whoa girl, it's a doggone shame.

I am keeping out of trouble.

The insistent threat of his mother’s veins and imminent demise, the worries about the Rev Kev’s sexuality and the fate of his buxom spouse Cherylene, and the lesbianism, incest, and general uncomfiness towards his homeland are all laid bare.