So, it's the middle of another Saturday workday, peacefully making sandwiches for Millwandt and Upinder, and -- Boom! the stove explodes. Really. The glass stovetop shatters into thousands of tiny pieces, the control knobs blow off, and I, calmly, after ascertaining that I am not aflame, turn the burner off.
Millwandt, shaking his deceptively saintly-looking head, surveys the debris, and says "After living with the Mau Mau, nothing is panicking".
So there: after living with the Mau Mau, Maytown isn't much.