Philip Papp cuts a rather sad version of Michelangelo's 'David', but that doesn't seem to matter post-deluge. He still manages to attract a small crowd of spectators, most days, from his first-floor window. After the flood, Betty Swain's old, arthritic fingers are free to work their magic with impunity and (bless her heart) for no fixed fee. Bereft, bemused widowers are happy to pay her a fair rate. Ask Bill the policeman. Who sent the mysterious...