Today everything is animal. The 121 Circular steams and mutters, hisses and roars away into traffic, spewing a herd of spattered raincoats with upturned collars and faces cast down. They scurry beyond the bus-shelter and eddy in and out of shops like creatures trapped in cupboards or drawers, behind a wall or beneath floorboards, or hurling themselves from sickening cliffs to perish in icy water and grey. After twenty-one steps along the pavement, MM reaches the big green doors of Beech Brothers Printing and Packaging, the most limited company on God’s earth…