[a complicated pattern of crop circles has appeared in Geraldine's field. She is standing on a ladder to get a better view of it]
Geraldine: I can't seem to get high enough.
Peter Kingdom: Ah, well, therein lies the fatal flaw of our anonymous artist's masterpiece.
Lyle Anderson: Sorry?
Peter Kingdom: We're in Norfolk, Lyle. The flattest place in Britain. A place where wearing high heels gives an uncomfortable sensation of vertigo. How on earth is one supposed to admire this wonderful crop cirle without at least a hill from which to see it?