‘Then I’m not going on stage,’ he replied.

‘Fifteen seconds left on the video!’ Travis yelled.

‘We could go to the cinema,’ Max suggested. ‘I can probably get into a fifteen but if you want to see an eighteen, my mum has to come with us.’

‘Ten seconds!’

‘Veronica?’ I squealed, looking for help in all the wrong places.

‘I usually put Maltesers in my popcorn,’ Max added. ‘But we don’t have to if you don’t want to.’

‘Fine,’ I said, panicking. ‘We can go to the cinema. But we’re not going to see an eighteen and it’s not a date.’

‘Seriously?’ He leapt to his feet and tossed his computer game to the floor. ‘You’ll go to the movies with me?’

‘Hold the tiger,’ Ted barked down the phone, staring at me. ‘I repeat, hold the tiger.’

‘Yes, seriously,’ I confirmed, holding my head in my hands. ‘Now will you please get on stage before the crowd tears this place apart?’

Silently, he grabbed hold of my hand and strolled out through the curtains right as the video finished playing.

‘Let go of me,’ I hissed, trying to shake him off as the crowd began to whoop and scream. ‘I need to be backstage.’

‘Aight WESC-ers!’ Max said into his microphone. Everyone, except for Lucy who seemed to have doubled in size since Saturday, and Sumi who looked very confused, stood up and began chanting for Snazzlechuff. ‘I have an announcement to make.’

The crowd lowered their volume to a reverent hush, almost silent save for the sound of four hundred and ninety-eight people clamouring for their mobile phones.

‘It’s kind of a big deal but I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, like, the last couple of weeks.’

The room gasped.

‘As of today, I am retiring from competitive gaming.’

You could have heard a speck of dust fall off the head of a pin.

‘Having discussed this with my girlfriend—’ he raised my hand in the air.

‘I’m not his girlfriend,’ I said quickly.

‘I have decided to spend more time travelling the world and doing charities and going to the pictures with Ros. Thank you for all your support.’

And then the boos began in earnest.

‘You’re not Snazzlechuff!’ shouted a girl with candyfloss-pink hair at the back of the room. ‘You’re an imposter!’

‘From today, I am no longer a slave to the mask,’ he shouted back, fiddling with the clasp on the side of his ear. The booing stopped, and all the air was sucked out of the room as he carefully unhooked the catch and let his mask swing open to reveal his face.

‘My name is Max, this is my girlfriend, Ros—’

‘Oh god, please make this end,’ I groaned, covering my face with my arm as dozens of camera flashes popped below us.

‘And I am Snazzlechuff!’