"Oh, absolutely. Terrible shame. Scoffing rubbish like that, poor little blighter'll prolly spew his ring when he gets home. All over Mummy's nice rug." John grinned and waved jauntily to the filthy dog as the woman carried it away, then turned his attention to scanning the passers-by for a very particular kind of mark.

He nudged Crowley with his elbow. "Here, help me find a real shithead, would you? One with a guilty conscience and more money than sense."