After the doctor had diagnosed him yesterday afternoon, Ivor bought a dictionary from James Thin’s and went to Rutherford’s for a pint. He put the dictionary inside a newspaper so nobody could see what he was reading. Then he sat in a corner and went through as many phobias as he could. First he looked for natural deterrents to a vocation in burglary. These included achluophobia (fear of darkness), domatophobia (fear of houses), anthrophobia (fear of people), leukophobia (fear of the colour white), galeophobia (fear of cats) and koinoniphobia (fear of rooms). Rarely does medorthophobia (fear of an erect penis) or hadephobia (fear of hell) or lutraphobia (fear of otters) hold back a robber – unless they do country estates.

Otters (incidentally) are related to wolverines.

Ivor would still rather be a werewolf than a vampire.

What kind of a grown-up is he?

Maybe fear is a punishment he must carry for the sins of some other life?

He goes over to the hatch quickly, lowers himself down. Outwith a multitude of phobic afflictions robbers righteously raid the homes of capitalist children, known (in slang terms) as apathy’s muse. Burglars adore apathy. That’s the thing to think about. Ivor has been considering this when he thinks about how they approach that kind of job. Ivor has absolutely no skillset whatsoever, other than being a coal miner. And now he also has a firm diagnosis from his doctor, assuring him that his lifelong phobia of light is not going anywhere – that trying to live his life in darkness while nobody else notices is still the main goal of his existence. What the fuck is he going to do for money when they close down the pit? Every man he knows will be out of work. It’s been bad enough getting through the strikes. He wouldn’t rob from those who go without of course. Ivor would only rob from those who don’t go without. He’s not a total cunt. He would, in fact, only rob from those who will never go without, even after he fucking robs them. As his feet hit the ninth-floor landing, he hears Esme scream.

Pounds down the stairs.

– What is it, Esme!

In the living room his niece is howling and his sister is passed out.

– It’s ma pal, Uncle Ivor, she’s gonnae be stuck in this building forever!