A moment later, a rather dishevelled man of indiscernible age shuffled out from the yard. His overcoat was in tatters, his long hair was matted and dirty, and his beard, patchy and thin, was marked by a combination of long forgotten stains and debris.

"Ira, is good to see you," said Tararua Tom, coming to a stop and revealing a toothless smile.

"It's good to see they haven't kicked you out of here yet," observed Ira.

"Oh no, Ira, I do a good service by ...