Those damn keys lying on the roof of the bus shelter outside St Charles House tax office are still bugging me. Why are they there? Act of malice probably. But who did it, whose are they, and what went on before? Paul Auster phone me, this is your kind of material. Mystery keys just the thing I expect to see in one of your novels. Talking dogs, people with the same names, these are the kind of devices that drive your novels, so why not a couple of sets of keys tossed on to a bus shelter roof.

And this is not the only thing that's got my mind twisting and turning: a friend of mine - a scriptwriter I know - mused about the "deep humiliation of Hollywood" on his Facebook site. What you put up with basically in order to see an idea realised. or more likely, bastardised out of all recognition. The antidote is obscene remuneration. Throw it my way, please. I'm cheap, I'm spineless, I'm compliant.