Conjure up an urban world where apparently friendly young ladies all turn out to be somewhere between odd and crazy. Then imagine you're up here to see one such girl and your last bill has flown out of the cab window on the way. Then pretend your date has committed suicide, you've somehow got branded as a serial robber, and another girl is after you with her ice cream van. You could well be Paul Hackett stranded in New York's SoHo in the early hours miles away from your uptown word processing job. You've got some change but since the subway fares went up at midnight, not enough to get back. Who do you call? Definitely not the police.