Mort applied all his charm to lure her in. She was rather pretty and her grey office uniform had great difficulty controlling her jutting breasts. She had a bottom that was considerably more animated than such things usually were in my experience. Perhaps without her clothes she might have looked a little like those girls on the wall... but no. When she smiled, she had slightly buckled front teeth—whereas they all had perfectly straight ones—and blemishes on her face where her make up strove unsuccessfully to hide a pimple or two. The flesh of Mort’s collage could never have borne such abominations. Still, she was the talk of all the men in the factory, especially Mort.
 “That Judy Simmons,” Mort would exclaim, “Boy is she looking for it.”
    I puzzled about what it was she might have lost.
 “It’s very urgent, Mr Decker, so I ran it over personally.”
    I was ready to rush out the door and fill the order, but Mort, strangely, was in no hurry. It seemed that Judy Simmons owned a small white dog and Mort chatted with her about that, even though he had never expressed an interest in dogs before.

Which brings to mind Alan Sillitoe, a very average good writer—possibly the most average in the world. He wrote one story of which only the title is good—The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner. Forget the rest. David Puttman did when he made his academy award winning film about running called Chariots of Fire. The title derives from that line in Blake’s Jerusalem, which is used in the film. But Tony Richardson also used the anthem as his title theme in the movie made from Sillitoe’s story. Puttman apparently apologised for the plagiarism which was almost certainly accidental. Famous for being forgotten—how much less significant can you be.