Djura, who was not only crippled but also getting on in years, oft yearned for the days when he too was a healthy young man like this one — but apparently all this healthy young man could do was stand there uselessly and theorise as to what the ball was. Currently Djura didn't care what the thing was; only that it was in the process of smashing his home.

With a heavy frown, Djura tossed his cane aside, faced the "bruiser" head on, and when it turned to plummet itself at him, he caught it hard in the torso — "oof" — wrapped his arms tight about it, and glanced around breathlessly. "Open that chest!" he barked at the postman, nodding towards a large, steel-bound chest by the fireplace.