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Hello, please. Yes, lost I am, thank you." Someone else had emerged and was now standing right next to a befuddled Katie and what was apparently the real, live Sergeant Oats. "Oh my God!" Katie said under her breath. "It's Svetlana, the lost Swedish hiker." "Not knowing where I am, yes?" Svetlana continued.
Oats seemed much taken with the newcomer's obvious charms and he switched his attention to the young lady. For a few minutes, there ensued a bizarre and disjointed exchange between the two, the hiker clearly not comprehending Sergeant Oats' broad, cockney accent and the poor sergeant trying in vain to understand the hiker's heavily accented, broken English. And to find an exaggerated, cliché character, you would not have to look any farther than the lost hiker. Sergeant Oats's stomach was not the only thing moving around; Svetlana's ample chest was barely kept in place by her flimsy blouse. Its buttons looked as though they were about to burst open at any time.
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