He struggles, suffers, doubts, despairs, succeeds, struts, stumbles, falls. No matter how successful or blissful he becomes, there is always a banana skin waiting to destroy his momentary heights of ecstasy. Sometimes, something as small as a greasy stain on his jacket does the job. But he makes it worse with “a piece of onion sticking to it. The night was gone, eaten up”. He is a master at creating heartbreakingly sublime moments of slapstick.