The number of cigarettes in each bag is the same, and why not? They’ve all done so well. Once Felix is out of sight, the bargaining and trading will begin: cigarettes are an unofficial currency, desirable for bribes and the obtaining of goods and favours.

‘Not my usual brand,’ says Bent Pencil. Chuckles: everyone knows he doesn’t smoke.

‘If there’s a hole in one end and fire at the other, I smoke it,’ says Red Coyote.

Shiv: ‘You’re talking about my woman.’ Laughter.

‘Yeah, but which end is which?’ More laughter. ‘Sorry, Anne-Marie.’

‘Watch it,’ says Anne-Marie. ‘Don’t forget, I’ve got that goddess power.’

‘By the way, well done, Anne-Marie,’ says Felix. ‘I didn’t see that coming.’

‘You always say magic should be unpredictable,’ says Anne-Marie. ‘I wanted to surprise you.’

‘And you did,’ says Felix.

‘We’re really grateful to you. Me and Freddie. It’s –’

‘No need for gratitude,’ says Felix. ‘I was pleased to help out.’

‘We got a surprise for you too,’ says Leggs, who has ambled over to join them.

‘Oh?’ says Felix. ‘What kind of surprise?’

‘It’s an extra number we wrote,’ says Leggs. ‘Me and the Hag-Seeds. We all wrote it together. We’re working on, like, a musical.’

‘A musical?’ says Anne-Marie. ‘About Caliban?’

‘Yeah, about what happens after the play’s over. Doing that report got us thinking: why shouldn’t Caliban have a play to himself?’

‘Go on,’ says Felix.

‘Okay, so, it begins at the part where Stephano and Trinculo put him in a cage and show him off for money. But in the musical, he gets out of the cage. That’s this number we did – where he gets out, and he says he’s not doing any more slave work or living in a cage.’

Boom boom boom, the Hag-Seeds start the beat. Leggs chants:

Freedom, high-day! High-day, freedom! Freedom, high-day, freedom!

Got outta my cage, now I’m in a rage –

No more dams I’ll make for fish,

Nor fetch in firing

At requiring,

Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish;

Ain’t gonna any more lick your feet

Or walk behind you on the street,

Ain’t gonna get on the back of the bus,

And you can give our land right back to us!

Ban-ban, Ca-Caliban,

Don’t need no master, I am not your man!

So stuff it up your hole, gimme back what you stole,

Tellin’ you it’s late, I’m fillin’ up with rage,

I’m gettin’ all set to go on a ram-page!

Ain’t gonna work for less than minimum wage –

Live in a shack and piss in a pail,

You earn yourself money by puttin’ me in jail!

You kick me in the head, you dump me in the snow,

Leave me there for dead,

’Cause I’m nothin’ to you.

Ban, ban, Ca-Caliban,

You think I’m an animal, not even a man!