On Monday night, I watch episode three, featuring DJ Bassdog, at home alone. Still no sight or word from Jordan – I may have to invite my mother down to do a charity sweep of all his things. Tuesday evening, I’m barely home myself when he rushes in. Apparently, to have a go at me.

‘Grace, what the hell is this I’m hearing about some giant with piercings and a Mohican on your show accusing me of one having an affair with Robert and two that I have a teeny-weeny?’ he snarls. ‘And, what’s more, did you agree with him about it?’

It’s not, exactly, what happened. During the episode, Bassdog had said not many men could compete with the aubergine machine that was, allegedly, Toby’s manhood. Then he’d jokingly reassured himself that I didn’t seem to have a problem with teeny-weenies – a reference to the chipolata sausage. Fobbing him off, I’d joked my boyfriend was so often busy working downstairs with his colleague, I couldn’t be sure I remembered.

‘Jordan, it isn’t true. That’s not what happened. You need to watch the show. I—’

‘Everyone at work is laughing at me. Every time I go in to the Gents, I hear laughter. Every time Robert and I are talking – and we sit opposite each other and you’re bloody lucky he thinks it’s all quite funny and isn’t here with me to ball you out... Jesus Christ, Grace, what were you thinking?’

‘Jordan, I’ll fix it. Next shoot, I’ll say—’

‘According to you, we’ve broken up! Surely you won’t say anything about me on that damn show?’

‘We have broken up, Jordan, so surely you’ll be moving yourself, and your stuff, out of my flat sharpish?’ I snap back.

Jordan flinches.

‘I have a photo shoot. But we need to talk, properly, about what we want this break-up to look like and where you’re going to live. I don’t want us to hate each other, Jordan. But this isn’t working. I’ll be back in a few hours.’

Jordan says nothing. Quelle surprise!

I slam the door behind me.

Down by the Little Venice canals near home, I pose for the shots for Alex Sutcliffe’s upcoming article. The shoot has been arranged via SC6. I’m going along with it because I have to. Alex is going along with it because he’s a brown-nose to Joanna. Alex is doing his own photography and is under the impression he’s interviewing Jordan to gather some salacious snippets next – no pictures. I haven’t yet told him this won’t be possible.

‘Look the other way,’ he instructs.