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He stopped drawing and nudged me.

‘Someone winds a thread round the earth,’ he whispered. ‘And so does someone else, only he doesn’t lay the thread on the ground but hangs it one metre high. Yes?’

I nodded with as little interest as possible.

‘Right. Now the question is: how much more string does the second man need than the first?’

‘No idea. It’s impossible. What do they do with the oceans?’

‘What matters is the principle. This is an experiment in thinking. Well?’

‘Ten thousand kilometres.’

‘Oh no. A little over six metres!’

‘It’s impossible.’

‘One man needs a length of 2 π r and the other one of 2 π r plus 1 metre. That makes 2 π metres. Say about six metres. Nice, isn’t it? Now we’ll do the same with the circumference of your prick.’

Marga Sap turned round. She didn’t understand a thing about maths either.

‘The circumference of my prick?’

‘That’s different from the length, dickhead. Someone winds a string round it, and someone else does the same, but at a distance of one metre. How much more string does he need?’