When Star Search is over we are allowed to have another drink, and Jonathan says that I’ve got a bottle of vodka in a box somewhere, although how he worked that out I really don’t know, seeing as he never went near any boxes when they needed moving. I haven’t got any mixers so he says he’ll put some music on if I’ll go down to the corner shop and get tonic and lemons, and we can have a party. I leave him fiddling around with his iPod which has about 20,000 club tracks on it which all sound exactly the same, although Jonathan spends hours making different playlists and insisting that he would actually be a really good DJ.

I’m glad to get out of the flat for a while, even though I’ve only just moved in, and there is a shop literally across the road OPEN 24 HOURS which is good news. I might as well make myself known, as I will be going in there every day for the rest of my life. Planning meals has never been my strong point, and as long as they sell microwaveable rice, a bit of salad and some herbal tea I can make up the rest of my diet with protein shakes.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs an ambulance really is pulling up with its blue light flashing, which seems like a bad omen on my first night, and I wonder for a moment if Jonathan’s made another bogus emergency call like he did that time he fancied a fireman, and thought that if he dialled 999 he might come round and ‘rescue’ him. But there are two paramedics going to a flat on the second floor.

Jonathan is looking very pleased with himself when I get back, and he says he’s bought me a flat-warming present, and can I guess what it is? He wasn’t carrying anything when he turned up, and I really, seriously hope that it’s not another of his joke presents like the subscription to The Watchtower which I was never able to cancel and will probably keep turning up at my old address for the rest of time. I say thank you, because I believe in good manners even with people like Jonathan, and I ask him what is it? He says I have to guess, and so after I’ve mentioned a few things that I would actually like, like a juicer, and an Xbox, he says, ‘Close your eyes and hold out your hands.’ Jonathan is the sort of person who is quite capable of placing something disgusting in your hands under these circumstances, like for instance parts of his own anatomy, but on this occasion it is something small and cold and square. ‘Now open them!’ he says, and it turns out be a hand mirror with four enormous lines of cocaine chopped out on it. ‘I used your credit card, I hope you don’t mind,’ he says, and then I remember that he cut up all his cards last week when he decided that consumerism was blocking his path to enlightenment, and anyway they were all maxed out.