Dateline: The Algonquin Hotel, five minutes later: So they all sit round the table and the Scotchman introduces himself as Sir Parlane MacFarlane and the bruiser as Dominic Doubleday, some kind of servant, but also – from their manner towards each other – obviously more like a brother or close colleague; MacFarlane claims to be the Founder of this organisation he calls The Ring of Gold – which the others don't seem to have heard of, just like they don't know him from Adam; he outlines The Ring's interests and activities: this is a People Smuggling racket from way back, with it's Headquarters are in Scotland and from the 13th Century it has existed to give the members access to whatever kind of pleasures and delights they may wish to enjoy, bringing fresh regular supplies of goods and livestock – those are the humbugging euphemisms he uses – from all parts of the British Islands and from further afield; initially their harvesting was from Western Europe but as time progressed, so did their organisation's tentacles spread, throughout Europe and following trade routes and the Silk Road into Asia, down into Africa and eventually – before Marco Polo established the Atlantic Crossing, to be followed by English and other European settlers and traders – to the West Coast and down into South America; now, this wasn't only for the benefit of Members of The Ring, although they reaped a considerable financial reward; while they enjoyed the Cream, as the supply of Produce far exceeded even their appetites, they began and continue to this day, to supply many hundreds and thousands of customers with the same appetites and desire for variety; he explains that, even now, the vast Hunting Grounds of North America supply the voracious needs of Europe and Asia, but there has never been a Chapter in the North and this is an omission he desires to correct, with the help of those present and, as their reward, he proposes to make the Founding Fathers – and Mother – of The North American Ring of Gold and I can hear their buzz, their excitement, through the drapes behind which I sit; "and what exactly will we get out of it?" asks Ms Holmquist, who is the smartest of the trio – oops, Quartet, for I had forgotten about JFK! and in fact it's he who seems to be the first of the men to figure out what MacFarlane is talking about: "the people your organisation smuggles, I take it they are of both genders and all ages?" and MacFarlane corrects him: "all genders, fur am telt there's a lot mair variety aboot noo than when ah wis young an in ma prime!" and Holmquist soothes the Former – I can't really say 'Late' for he is very much alive and kicking – President: "times have changed hon," she says, "they can be made into whatever you prefer, imagine a spectrum from Male to Female, or see it as a Longitudinal continuation with both Poles but no beginning or end, just gradual degrees of difference, at the interstices," and MacFarlane jumps in: "a verra guid example, Mistress Holmquist, verra well put – methinks thee an me should hae a wee private intercoorse efter this Cooncil adjourns," OMG he's actually hitting on Catwoman, to which she does not demur! this MacFarlane is a real ballsy guy, and he's got them all in the palm of his hand – and I can just see the other hand is on Holmquist's knee and slowly sliding under her skirt and tracing her lineaments! Gross! but she doesn't scratch his eyes out, which, knowing her rep as I do, she could do to either of the other local Big-Wigs in a heartbeat, this is getting really complicated, The Penguin is the natural leader of the Gotham Troika but I suspect MacFarlane might want to make Holmquist his Janissary!