It begins as a house, an end terrace in this case but it will not stop there. Soon it is an avenue which cambers arrogantly past the Mechanics' Institute, turns left at the main road without even looking and quickly it is a town with all four major clearing banks, a daily paper and a football team pushing for promotion. On it goes, oblivious of the Planning Acts, the green belts, and before we know it it is out of our hands: city, nation, hemisphere, universe, hammering out in all directions until suddenly, mercifully, it is drawn aside through the eye of a black hole and bulleted into a neighbouring galaxy, emerging smaller and smoother than a billiard ball but weighing more than Saturn. People stop me in the street, badger me in the check-out queue and ask "What is this, this that is so small and so very smooth but whose mass is greater than the ringed planet?" It's just words I assure them. But they will not have it.