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Let me introduce Smithers. I think his name was borrowed from a yellow-character cartoon. He's my butler. He's hopeless. He drops stuff all the time. But at least I don't. Mrs Fotheringale is the housekeeper. Slovenly so-and-so, she is, as well. Doesn't know one end of a vacuum cleaner from the other. But, along with Mr Zanussi, they are my ineffectual staff. Mr Zanussi washes the dishes. Pathetically. I keep threatening him that he'll be getting his cards if he doesn't buck his ideas up, but he always responds with a plaintive, "Non capisco, parlo solamente italiano."

Living alone in the depths of lock-down doesn't challenge the citizen: it challenges their imagination.

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