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Female | Age unspecified | Under 3 minutes
Starts on page 17
EXTRACT: It is like having two giant mens hands running permanently up and along one's own legs. It is like...O God....it is like having some woolly man with his head buried permanently in one's private parts. I am not being vulgar, Mr Rickards. I am not. It is sincerely the most accurate description I can give you. It is an incomparably despicable experience. And how is one supposed to walk? Like an ape? Like a dog.
Female | Age unspecified | Under 3 minutes
Starts on page 54
EXTRACT: You're a man of the world, Mr Rickards. You're someone who knows who he is and what he wants. So, maybe you can tell me. When do we become so certain? At what age does that happen? At what age do we fix on our likes and dislikes and then become so terribly fixed that we deny ourselves the pleasure of still being surprised? What compels us to say 'this is me, and nothing else' and then suffer the tedium of, frankly, boring ourselves to death?