The old man on the empty promenade died, without a complaint, a convulsion, or a single sound. It is holiday time in Douglas and the town is alive with the local carnival. Whirling noises, swirling figures, a brass band and bagpipes - a procession makes its way down the promenade. Packed side to side, cheering and clapping, buzzing and humming, the crowd cling together in a tight knot. Slowly, they make their way towards the pier. The crowd thins...