Well, what now? You have no job. I have no job. Wanna play Jenga?

She firmly held the theory that everyone gets at least one very stupid superpower.

I could envision it all to clearly: Stuart or Debbie finding the dented door off its hinges, lying in the snow. "She came in, ravaged the boy, stole plastic bags, and ripped off the door in her escape," the police would say in the APB. "Probably making her way to bust her parents out of jail.

I had one class in the morning, the mysteriously named "Further Maths". It was two hours long and so deeply frightening that I think I went into a trance.

A pause while my mother made high-pitched sisterly devotions of gratitude.

Rory: "People are being serious." Jazza: "There's a serial killer out there. Of course people are being serious." Rory: "Yeah, but what are the chances?" Jazza: "I bet all of the victims thought that." Rory: "But still, what are the chances?" Jazza: "Well, I imagine they are several million to one." Jerome: "Not that high. You're only dealing with a small part of London. And while there might be a million or more people in that area, the Ripper is probably focusing on women, because all of the original victims were women. So halve that--" Jazza: "You really need another hobby.

This pool is a triumph of imagination. That's how you win at life, Gin. You have to imagine your way through. Never say something can't be done. There's always a solution, even if it's weird.