Murdoch gestured to Satan's wardrobe-a dusty overcoat wrapped over a T-shirt and ratty jeans. Satan swept the flies away from his nose again and spoke.

Lounging around the seminar table, when Madeleine came into the room from the wintry weather outside, were eight people in black T-shirts and ripped black jeans.

He turns on the tap and urinates in the sink, pulls on his shirt and jeans, his worn boots, stamping the heels against the floor to get them full on.