No real surprise I suppose, given your authors predilections, that this, the first installment, featured in a trip to one of Her Majesty's Prisons...
''Fraid I can't pick you up tomorrow, mate. I've got to go do my other job, at the speedway, looking after St Johns', he'd said the day before, as I wondered exactly where he'd learnt to drive, and my first clue had narrowed it down to off road biking or ambulance.
'How was it?', I asked the next day.
'Yeah. it was alright, I s'pose', replied the bizarrely Cockney-accented Dorset cabbie, flatly.
'At least they all stayed on this time.'