So when he told me about his mystery woman, I not only felt spectacularly dumped, but also like a dirty rag. I was the girl the fella cheated on his girlfriend with. Thank you very fucking much, Dan fucking Finnigan.

I ended up going to the theatre on my own.

And I know I could’ve asked our Kit to come with me, or one of my mates. Most of them would’ve needed to sort a babysitter, though, and well, I just couldn’t be bothered with more knock-backs, more excuses – however genuine – as to why someone couldn’t be my date. Still, I’d see Vicki afterwards, mingle with the cast. So I dressed up, curled my hair before attempting to stylishly mess it up, my blonde still on fantastic form from getting it bleached before Christmas. I wore knee boots, which, being on the tall side, always make my legs look longer, and a short dress with a retro zigzag pattern. Actually, the dress was more like a baggy shirt, but it’s one of my all-time faves. It hangs off in the right places and – God, this’ll make me sound old – it’s comfy. Our Kit had bought me giant hoop earrings for Christmas and, matching them with a thick helping of red lippy, I felt fabulous. Up yours, Dan Finnigan!

The show started with huge promise; an opening number full of brilliantly observed impressions. Vicki belted out a ballad about the pain her character felt leaving ‘EU’; but after that, it’s safe to say the story went zooming downhill.

I took my seat for the second half and noticed a man lingering on the step in the aisle beside me. Big, but not awkward, he had his hands stuffed into trousers that matched his waistcoat and jacket, smartly paired with a blue paisley shirt open at the collar. A confident grin emerged from beneath his wild beard. His eyes were sharp like diamonds.

‘Mind if I sit here?’ he asked.

Ugh. If truth be told, I did mind. If I wasn’t going to be here with a date, I’d prefer the extra legroom all to myself. But this fella was leaning towards me and resting his hand on the back of the empty seat.

‘You see that tiny space in the middle over there?’ He pointed to the block of seats opposite and I nodded. ‘That’s where I’ve been squashed during the first half of – ahem, let me lower my voice – the shambles that we all collectively witnessed. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to find this aisle seat unoccupied.’

‘Knock yourself out,’ I said, with enough sarcasm to let him know I wasn’t in the mood for making friends.

‘I’m Jack.’ He held out his hand.

I took it, shook it and said, ‘Chloe Roscoe,’ befuddled as to why a full intro spurted out.

He laughed, hearty and melodic.