He clicks his tongue, jerks his head slightly; a universal gesture of you know it. That's his choice and he'll stand by it.

‘Yes, women love it. Reminds ‘em of sun, an' sea, an' gettin' poked behind an electricity sub-station in Torremolinos.'

He can vouch for that, as it happens. And anyway, he's talking about women like the ones he gets. Real women, who are not...her.

‘What did you put?'