Sunday, 16 November 2003 | Karate chop

We hadn't intended to go there, or to go anywhere else, but a group of people on the corner yelled to tell us about the free drinks at a nearby place that was closing, so we shrugged and went. No cups or glasses, we were told. "Those pitchers over there are clean, though."

They were disassembling the room around us, moving past us like busy insects, bowling into our feet with the broom, chipping away at walls. The ones who spoke were friendly, but purposeful.

We watched as they gathered around a man who insisted he could karate chop a piece of wood in half with a single strike. With one quick, low slice of his arm, the wood divorced and fell to two sides. The others (including me and Ben) were impressed and laughed in response. More wood! he ordered. Lessons were given (you must hit with the back of your hand!), more wood-choppers anointed, and larger stacks of wood were severed. The instigator seemed pleased with himself, despite the fact he'd given away his secret.