On Thursday morning, Peter woke up, for first time ever, on the floor. But that was the least of his problems. He was also experiencing his first cider hangover. He lay on his back with a sofa cushion over his face wondering where the pain was coming from. His mouth was unpleasantly dry and tasted like it had been used during the course of the night as an otter’s latrine. His tongue wasn’t coated; it was fully carpeted. When he felt strong enough to remove the cushion from his face, even the gloomy daylight seared his eyes. It took several minutes for him to regain focus. All the while, a dull throb kept up a regular beat at the back of his skull. He dragged himself into a chair and wondered if the flat was equipped with aspirin.
What on earth was that smell? Apparently, it was him. The foetid stale cider atmosphere confirmed that Old Todger had played its part in the previous evening’s activities. Peter looked about him. He counted no less than five empty plastic containers of Old Todger around the room.
It was an overcast day and the curtains were drawn making the living room gloomier still. As Peter reached for a glass of water, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.
He froze, his pulse raced and he felt the hairs on his neck stand up. The shape and movement seemed entirely alien. It looked like a large plant had come to life in a corner of the living room and was now moving towards him. He let out a scream and bolted for the door. It was the first time he’d knocked himself out by running into the edge of a door. When he came to, he was lying on the sofa with a cold wet towel over one eye.
‘Sorry about that,’ said Abe still giggling. ‘It was funny until you hit the door. I bought the ghillie suit to show you what camouflage was all about. I didn’t realise you’d spook so easily.’
Before this week, Peter had been completely ignorant of the existence of camouflage clothing or its purpose. Now he saw that Abe was wearing a ghillie suit – a sort of huntsman’s onesie – comprising long strands of green and brown mottled fabric which, when worn outside, helped the wearer blend in with the undergrowth. When it was worn inside a West London flat, it gave the impression of an aggressive plant-like, alien life-form. The hat had a mesh veil with similar bits of fabric all over it.
‘Showing people this is much more effective than just talking about camouflage. People get the idea almost immediately ... well, obviously not you,’ added Abe apologetically.