‘Let’s go right back to the beginning,’ said Mrs. Plushkov. ‘Opening positions, please, everyone.’

There was a weary groan. Goldwasser felt his crushed intestines pack down a little farther.

‘Jellicoe,’ said Mrs. Plushkov to the janitor as they all trooped outside into the forecourt, ‘don’t slam the car door this time until Nobbs is well clear of it. Remember, you’ve got seven seconds before she – he – Nobbs is supposed to be on his feet on the pavement. Now, is One ready? Let’s take it from – now.’

Jellicoe stepped forward and opened an imaginary car door. Nobbs lurched out of the imaginary car.

‘Steady, Nobbs,’ said Mrs. Plushkov.

‘Good afternoon,’ said Chiddingfold, and led Nobbs across to the guard of honour of laboratory technicians.

‘Stop!’ cried Mrs. Plushkov.

There was a general sigh. Jellicoe took out a pocket mirror and began to examine his moustache. Nobbs sat down on the edge of the pavement. Goldwasser tried to shuffle part of his weight on to a narrow ornamental ledge. He knew what the delay was. The Conversation Committee had gone into emergency session yet again. They would be discussing whether Chiddingfold should be asked to elaborate his greeting with a few conversational remarks. There was a faction which favoured the Director’s making some comment on the weather. There was another faction which felt that any comment on the weather would present difficulties in timing, since the exact text could not be decided upon until the day, and that some remark about the royal car would be preferable. ‘How many miles to the gallon do you get out of her, ma’am?’ was thought to be the most generally acceptable. But finally the committee would face up to the impossibility of putting any of this to Chiddingfold, and would vote to postpone a decision until the next meeting. Goldwasser gazed hopelessly at a patch of ground about one foot square just in front of his shoes.

‘Let’s go on again, please,’ cried Mrs. Plushkov. ‘From where we stopped.’

Nobbs shambled across to the guard of honour of laboratory technicians.

‘For inspection,’ shouted the Senior Laboratory Technician, ‘port – slide rules!’

‘Up, two, three,’ called Mrs. Plushkov. ‘In, two, three. Ragged, very ragged.’

Nobbs barged along the ranks, treading on the right marker’s toe, and knocking another man’s slide rule out of his hands.

‘Steady, Nobbs,’ said Mrs. Plushkov.

‘Ease – cursors!’ shouted the Senior Laboratory Technician.

‘Three seconds under,’ said Mrs. Plushkov. ‘You were cutting the corners, Nobbs.’

Nobbs lumbered across to the foot of the steps, received a bouquet from Chiddingfold’s small daughter, deputised for by Miss Fram, and reeled on into the lobby to meet the assembled staff and guests.

‘Stop!’ cried Mrs. Plushkov. ‘Nomenclature Committee around me, please!’