James had come home from a long day, a very trying day, a long day at the office indeed. All day long he had heard that horrible Wellesly prattling on about this or that or the other.

"Well, if we just implemented that open CRM system that the vendor was talking about," Wellesly said.

"I'm not sure that this qualitative analysis is in line with the needs of the eMercury account," Wellesly said.

"I think we'll need to ditribute a whole new batch of CRDs," Wellesley said.

Well to HELL with Wellesley! That's what James had thought as he stormed out of the office, and down to the tube station. He'd just catch the next car home and... delays. Accident. The line is going to be delayed up to half an hour?

Well to HELL with the tube! He'd just hail a taxi, and while he rode could make a few calls, talk to some people, get in the right frame of mind. And lo and behold, a message! From Rebecca!

Rebecca, it seemed, could not make it to the show that evening. Apparently, Rebecca could not make it to that show or any other. Apparently, she was sorry. Apparently, it wasn't going to work out, and she would have loved to have told him in person but he was in some meeting all day.

Well to HELL with Rebecca! What did he need with some trollop from the states who was always flaunting her advanced anthropology degree and the position it had managed to land her at the Royal Museum? After all, it's not like he'd ever gone to the museum before he met her. He and his mates wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that, not when there was beer to be drunk...

His mates! That's right, he'd hang out with his mates! Well, Robert isn't answering... Alright... Got Steven's mailbox... Alright... Franklin's is switched off...

Well to HELL with his mates! James knew plenty of fine folks down at the pub, he could certainly find some sympathetic soul to wile away the evening with, or perhaps even a companion. Marcy had been giving him the eye recently, Marcy, with that big, beautiful smile of hers...

The traffic near his flat was horrible, so he just got out in the middle of the street, paid the fare, wandered on a block or two down, turned the corner towards the pub, and was confronted by... Emergency vehicles! Ambulances, fire engines everywhere, and nothing but a smoldering skeleton where the pub had stood! James froxe in his tracks and stared and stared and stared. Everywhere were voices and sirens and yelling and crying.

There was crying behind him, and his name was being choked out between sobs! James turned around and it was... Marcy! Her face was streaked and sooted and her smile was nowhere to be seen.

"James... James, oh... James!..." Marcy managed to gurgle, "it... it was terrible! Suddenly, there was just smoke and then... and then..." And then Marcy collapsed back into tears. A stretcher passed by with two paramedics barking orders frantically at each other, and there between them lay the proprietor, kind old Mister Billingsly. James tried to asked about his condition but was brushed aside. There was a great sense of urgency in the air, and James feared that death might be near...

Well to HELL with the pub! To hell with Marcy and kind old Mister Billingsly, too! James was tired and distraught and terribly in need of a pint and he'd be DAMNED if human tragedy would get in his way!

James stormed off, thinking of the next pub he could avail himself of... No! To hell with pubs! James was going back to his flat! Maybe he'd have a few beers and call one of those sexy hotlines... No, to hell with phones! They'd brought him nothing but trouble today, especially his mobile...

To HELL with his mobile! James flung it into the street, and shouldn't he be able to? He was a high-powered advertising type, was he not? If he couldn't afford to throw out baubles in a fit of rage, then who? Feeling somewhat reassured and even strangely regal in light of this revelation, James paraded up the stairs to his flat, fumbled with his keys, dropped his keys, cursed loudly in a tone that his landlady would certainly never approve of, picked up his keys, forced his way in, slammed the door shut, paraded towards the kitchen, and forcefully yanked upon the refrigerator, which swayed for a moment and promptly toppled over on him.