The unnamed narrator not only admits his life is a drag; he embraces banality. Disgusted by his inane office job, he quits and spends every morning on a bench along a London canal, watching waterfowl in the park and aircraft above, and commuters headed to and from their deathtrap jobs. When a mysterious young woman begins to join him on the bench, recounting strange stories and confessing lies, and a gang of thugs begins to pester him, the narrator questions the meaning of love, violence, and nature.