Tonight’s offering had a twist, however. Instead of looking creepy, tonight’s lady looked sad and rejected every time she knocked on the hotel door and the young businessman in regulation spectacles turned her away, evidently because she wasn’t the sexy escort he’d just ordered by phone from the local takeaway. I felt really sorry for her (really), and was pleased when she appeared in the room anyway and smiled menacingly while holding a blood-stained butcher’s knife even more menacingly. ‘Serves him right for being such a heel,’ I thought. ‘And what the hell was he doing listening to Mozart? What’s the point of being Japanese if you’re going to listen to Mozart at two o'clock in the morning instead of watching a Kurosawa movie?’ The businessman dropped his phone at that point. Good. I hope it broke.
You know, it’s amazing how much of the story you can pick up without subtitles, only I got irritated when the man on the other end of the phone kept saying ‘hi’, since I know it doesn’t mean ‘hello’ in Japanese and I get easily confused. But at least he also said ‘fuck you’ at one point. At least that’s what it sounded like.