In the opening sight gag, a guy in leisure wear shows up at his office only to find everyone in S&M clothes.

In South East Nigeria I knew him only slightly between 1923 and 1948; a self-effacing but self-sufficient figure pushbiking about the country in khaki shorts, white shirt and plimsolls, always purposeful, seldom interested in the whisky, gin, and bridge sessions that passed for evening society in bush stations.

When a clubhouse attendant brought a PlayStation4 to the Suns clubhouse, the dynamic shifted and helped turn some 70% of the team into Fortniters.

I gave them apples from my tree; they reciprocated with a pie and some apple jelly.