Bored, Will waved the debate away. ‘Well, that’s all very Agincourt of you, Chris. But I’m more interested in your cocks. In the jungle, when and where do you masturbate? I want specifics.’

‘Will!’ Tamsin turned on him.

Will feigned hurt. ‘These things are terribly important.’

‘It’s okay, I don’t mind,’ said Chris.

‘That’s not the point.’

Will tapped the tabletop impatiently with the flat of his hand. ‘Come on, Chris, don’t be shy, you’re among friends.’

‘I’m not shy, it’s just…’ Chris looked to Tamsin for consent.

‘Oh, don’t mind her,’ said Will, draping an arm round Tamsin’s shoulders. ‘Tam and I go way back, don’t we?’

Tamsin wriggled out from under his arm. Will was always claiming for them an intimacy that had never existed, and it irked her.

‘Basically,’ Chris began, uncertainly, ‘men will always find a way. Problem with the jungle was that we were all sleeping in hammocks, at fairly close quarters. I suppose after a while it just happens.’

‘So you were effectively jerking off in public,’ said Will.

Chris hesitated before continuing. ‘The, uh, the wanker does his best to be discreet, and everyone else does their best to ignore it. That is, depending on the guy. There was one lad who made a bit of a thing about it. Dave Gaskin – though everyone called him Gashbag. He had, er, some innovative solutions to the problem of waste disposal.’

‘As in – what exactly?’

‘He either rubbed it into his chest – said it was good for the skin – or’ – Chris’s mouth puckered in amused distaste – ‘or he ate the stuff. Sorry, ladies,’ he finished, remembering Tamsin.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Tamsin stiffly.

Chris was embarrassed. ‘Sorry, bit far.’ He stood up, looking flustered. ‘My round, isn’t it? Sorry. Same again? Three Peroni, two Pinot Grigio, and a – a grapefruit juice?’

‘Actually, I’ll just have water,’ said Leah. The background noise forced her to raise her voice. For the first time, Chris heard the gluey consonants of a Birmingham accent lurking behind her carefully clipped speech.

As he queued for drinks, Chris experienced a familiar deflation. He had been riding high on attention all evening, but now he felt sadly empty. Much as he loved performing, these days it so often felt like the only mode available to him. He was always ‘the army guy’. People’s responses were getting boringly predictable. Suze’s adoration, Big Mac’s cynicism, Will’s covert bid to prove that he, too, could be one of the boys – they were such types.