"I say, Sadie, look there!" Frank says in hushed tones, and between pours. He deftly hands her a fresh helping of whiskey. "Unless mine eyes deceive me - and if so they're no doubt in some dastardly allegiance with my liver - that's some sort of little blue cartoon horse!"

Now that he's said it, this does sound exactly like the kind of thing his eyes and liver would conspiratorially concoct. "Do you see it too?" he whispers.