“One pahnd.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yer bag o’ crisps. One pahnd.”

“Oh, of course.” Toby started reaching into his pocket and then remembered why he’d really come to the bar. “Err, can you tell me if there’s a Dave here?”

“Who?” The landlady was chewing gum with an intensity that unnerved Toby.

“His name’s Dave. He said you’d know him? Apparently he always drinks here?”

“Sorry, dahn’t knah any Daves,” she replied, immediately resuming her work at the bar, while her jaws intensified their gum-chewing. Toby was mesmerised. It was like watching two boxers slug it out under a blanket.

Toby looked helplessly round the pub and wondered how it was possible, in this day and age, not to know any Daves. The place was full already and more customers were arriving. There were probably several Daves here. At least four or five. The odds were stacked in favour of Daves.

A couple of customers jostled their way in front of him and Toby asked himself for the first time why the pub was so ridiculously busy. He squeezed back a step, trying to maintain a figment of distance. His eye caught the news channel that was playing on the TV. A large clock was showing 11:55. Beneath it, a kind but stern-looking Government official, of the type that had become rather familiar in recent years, was saying something that was obviously very serious, while beneath him a ticker message played in a loop:

“IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT FROM DOWNING STREET AT 12 PM GMT, 1 PM BST ∙ MAKE SURE YOU ARE NEAR A TELEVISION OR WIRELESS ∙ DO NOT BE ALARMED ∙ IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT FROM DOWNING STREET AT 12 PM GMT, 1 PM BST ∙ MAKE SURE…”

And on and on.

Toby didn’t know it, but everyone was getting themselves near a TV. They were alarmed by the word ‘alarmed’ and they were even more alarmed by the word ‘wireless’, without quite knowing why. The ticker message had been running for three hours. It had created a primitive urge in people to hear whatever was going to be said in the company of others. This primitive urge collided with a more modern urge to remain socially distanced… But the primitive urge won. This time, for this news event, people wanted to come together.

Strange, Toby thought, and then re-focussed on his own quest. He had just come here about a flat-share. He scanned the heaving crowd looking for any obvious Daves. Why did this Dave have to be the only one without a mobile? He decided to ask the landlady again, for good form. If that didn’t work out, he’d forget all about the flat and look for something else.

“Are you quite sure you don’t know any Daves?” he said to the landlady, poking his head between two customers without quite touching them. “He was certain you’d know him. He said, ‘it’s impossible to hide your identity these days’…”

The landlady stopped chewing for a moment and looked him straight in the eye.

“Yer mean Paranoid Dave?”

“Err, maybe?”

“Well, why didn’t yer say so then. Over there, near the TV,” she said, pointing with her elbow, and resuming her chewing. “Black beard, leather overcoat.”

“Thank you,” Toby squeaked, just as the sea of customers closed in front of him.

Toby edged his way in the vague direction indicated by the landlady’s elbow and there, on a settle against the wall, he saw a chubby, bearded figure. He was wearing a black skull t-shirt beneath a full-length black leather coat and was staring intently at another large TV screen. Still half-minded to walk out and forget the whole flatmate thing, Toby nudged his way towards him.