It may be a little too late - Crowley can quite easily be seen making a mental note to himself. But then again, Christmas is a long way off; it's unlikely, in the paper-strewn recesses of Crowley's mind, that he'll be able to find it again.

"I think I'd stick with the desert, personally," he says finally.

(It's not that his face is flushed with good humour; it's that the sun, kissing the horizon, has streaked the sky in brilliant pinks and oranges.)