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“He had lowered his head to take a drag on his cigarette, so when it came, he didn’t

see it. Didn’t see the arc of the gun or the hand holding it, as it travelled down

towards the floor, and then, having reached the limit of its downward trajectory,

soared upwards, upwards, upwards – until the barrel smashed into his face with

all the coiled, furious energy of an athlete releasing a discus. It caught him full in

the mouth, sending blood, teeth, drool, tobacco and hot ash fl ying everywhere – and

him spiralling backwards onto the floor, almost at our feet, where he lay crumpled

like a soiled, tossed rag.”