“One morning in the garden, he heard a blackbird singing. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, so he decided to have the bird caught so he could keep it as a pet. He got his Master Falconer up from the mews and told him, ‘Catch me that blackbird and bring it to me in a cage.’ And the Master Falconer said, ‘Blackbirds can’t live in cages. It’ll pine away and die, and then you’ll be under a curse and die too, because bad things happen to people who kill blackbirds.’ And the Prince was astounded, because it was literally the first time in his life anyone had suggested he might be wrong.”

“So what happened next?” asked Nate, since Finn seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

“The Prince killed him,” said Finn. “And got a new Master Falconer who knew which side his bread was buttered. So the Falconer caught the blackbird, and it went to live in a cage in the Prince’s bedroom. But it wouldn’t sing, and it got sadder and sadder and sadder, and everyone knew it was going to die, including the Prince, but he was too frightened to admit he was wrong, even to himself. Then one morning he woke up and it was lying cold and dead on the bottom of the cage.”

“Brilliant.”

“Hang on, I haven’t finished yet. That night, the Prince had a nightmare. He dreamed that the blackbird had flown back into his room and was stealing away his teeth to build a fortress. When he woke up, he looked in the mirror and found a brown spot on his front tooth, and from then on he didn’t dare speak in public or even open his mouth too much. The second night, he dreamed that the blackbird was stealing his hair to weave itself a warm nest. When he woke up the next morning, he saw that his hair was beginning to thin on top, and from then on he wore a hat, day and night, until everyone began to whisper and wonder. And the third night he dreamed he was in bed with a beautiful woman, but as they were making love, that part of her turned into a gigantic golden beak that tore it off and swallowed it whole. So after that he didn’t dare go to bed with anyone – even though he was supposed to get married and produce an heir.

“And so it went on, with the Prince becoming more and more frightened because he’d finally discovered he could fail. Eventually it was clear he could never be allowed to inherit the kingdom, so his own father arranged to have him slaughtered and his body thrown on the midden. And the King and all his wise men looked at each other and said, ‘What did we do wrong?’”

“That’s stupid,” said Nate.

“I’ve had three glasses of champagne and half a spliff. Sorry.”

“You’ll never get a publishing deal if that’s the sort of crap you write.” He took another drag on the joint. “And this is shit as well.”