I was rudely woken at 10.00am by The Treasurer who had seemed fit to call at an ungodly hour. I finally located my telephone underneath a pile of empty gin glasses which had mysteriously appeared in my room since last night. The news appeared to be good: the Treasurer had identified a loophole in the tax code which he believed we could be in a position to exploit. The revelation, he claimed, had come to him when handling an indoor barbecue at 6am. The situation was highly confusing, and I could smell the booze on his breath down the telephone line. Nevertheless, societal codes indicated that my only option was consent.