Jack Vettriano The Party's Over

Jack Vettriano The Party's OverJack Vettriano The Parlour of TemptationJack Vettriano The Opening Gambit
'Razor, sir,' said the corporal helpfully. 'He just keeps on saying things like IT'S NOT HAPPENING YET.' 'Have you tried burying him up to the neck in the sand? That usually works.'
'It's a bit . . . um . .Susan . . . it wasn't a good name, was it? It wasn't a truly bad name, it wasn't like poor Iodine in the fourth form, or Nigella, a name which means 'oops, we wanted a boy'. But it was dull. Susan. Sue. Good old Sue. It was a name that made sandwiches, kept its head in difficult circumstances and could reliably look after other people's children.
It was a name used by no queens or goddesses anywhere.
And you couldn't do much even with the spelling. You could turn it into Suzi, . thing . . . nasty to people . . . had it a moment ago . . .' The corporal snapped his fingers. 'Thing. Cruel. That's it. We don't give people . . . the Pit . . . these days.''This is the . . .' the sergeant glanced at the palm of his left hand, where there were several lines of writing, 'the Foreign Legion.''Yessir. All right, sir. He's weird. He just sits there all the time. We call him Beau Nidle, sir.'The sergeant peered bemusedly at the mirror.'It's your face, sir,' said the corporal.Susan stared at herself critically.