Tulkinghorn has never been one for exercise, suffering as he does from tennis elbow, housemaid's knee, jogger's nipple and parson's nose. At most it's a brisk walk to the Wig & Pen, where he briefs his counsel. Apart from the year he entered the London Marathon... but we don't talk about that anymore. However, he was most intrigued by a recent health kick at Nabarro Nathanson. Hordes of partners were seen heading lemming-like to the local gym while the canteen served up low-fat meals and a qualified therapist visited the offices to give head massages. (Tulkinghorn coughed a bit at that, but was informed by his most modern assistant that the most respectable people indulge in massage these days.) All very admirable; but what is rather puzzling is what exactly is going on in the picture sent by the good people of Nabarros (below left). The man on the left has either emerged through a hole in the floor or is helping out in a search for the lady on the right's contact lenses. Or possibly the low-fat food left the poor dears with so little energy that they had to drag themselves about.