"Dorian Pygge lurched through the door of the Athenaeum. His red porcine face was glazed with the butter from the four servings of lobster he had just devoured, washed down with a jeroboam of champagne. He leered at the young women passing by. His best friend and drinking partner Sir Gregory of Wallace staggered up behind him clutching a bowl with half a sherry trifle slopping around in its crystal depths."