‘My mother always used to ask me to top and tail the beans for Sunday lunch. Now I’m topped and tailed because of the Clozapine; but also because of the reason I take it. They’re inseparable. Siamese twins. David Bowie’s brother had schizophrenia, but David Bowie was a superstar. It’s Russian roulette. If you’re a has-been, at least you’ve been something. I’ve never been anything. In the centre, there’s only drowning cats attacking each other in a sack someone is holding just high enough for one of them to survive by climbing on top of the rest.’

Martin let the connections come to rest, without any comment, like an ornithologist trying to stay still as he sees a flock of migrating birds settle on the water nearby. He mustn’t frighten them away, he mustn’t ask who was holding the sack, especially since Sebastian didn’t yet know.

‘So, would you like to tell me about your first episode?’ he asked.

‘Okay,’ said Sebastian.

He moved over to the couch, and lay down, still holding his scrunched-up anorak tightly against the middle of his body. Although he would have preferred him to have remained seated, Martin decided not to derail the story.

‘The first time it happened I’d been smoking skunk with Simon. We’ve been friends since primary school, although I only see him a couple of times a year now. It’s like charity visits, because he wants to seem loyal, but he doesn’t enjoy seeing me any more. In those days, people used to say we were “inseparable”, which is the sort of stupid thing people say. Anyway, we went to the Portobello Road, and I started to hear everybody’s thoughts, like running through all the radio stations very fast and getting bursts of words exploding in my head. I said to Simon, “It should be called the Portal Bello Road, because it’s a portal into another dimension,” and Simon laughed, because he thought I was just being stoned and taking the piss. Sorry,’ Sebastian interrupted himself, ‘this is too intense. I feel like I’m having a flashback. I think I want to sit down again. I don’t feel safe on the couch, because I can’t see what you’re doing. You might stab me with a pen, stab me in the eye, or stab me in the back.’

‘I’m not going to do that,’ said Martin.

‘Yeah, I sort of believe that,’ said Sebastian, rocking back and forth on the edge of the couch, pressing the rolled-up anorak against himself. ‘In a way, I know it’s a fantasy, because I’m on my meds, but the feeling is just too strong. Sometimes things are more powerful when you know they’re not true, because you have to imagine them so hard, if you see what I mean.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Martin. ‘I think that’s very well put.’