A dark comedy about the sex life of a celibate middle-aged man. The Playwright rather enjoys a quiet moment in the local park. It is a good place to mentally sort his ideas, and is often frequented by pretty young ladies. He once saw a pigeon defecate onto a businessman's shoulder. It struck him as absurd that such an event is often considered lucky. Surely the luck lies with passers-by who, statistically, are far less likely to be similarly soiled at that precise moment. Similarly, The Playwright has always derived an almost perverse sense of relief upon receiving news that an old friend has developed prostate cancer. Because statisticallly, he reasons, such news significantly reduces the chances of him being similarly afflicted. And to be honest, at his age, his prostate needs all the statistical support he can muster. Beautiful painted artwork by Eddie Campbell.