Sam laughed again because there was nothing else he could think of doing. So did Farmer, who looked at his watch, then picked up his BlackBerry and gestured with it. ‘So, here’s the deal. The Party’s in the shit. Most of your lot think we’re the enemy. And, frankly, we deserve everything you’re hurling at us – well, maybe not the petrol bombs. But the fact is we look like a bunch of fucking dinosaurs. Well, not Pippa, of course, who just looks fucking sexy.’

‘Fuck off, Derek.’

‘Oh? Thought it was worth a shot. Anyway, apart from Pippa, the Party’s a load of WASPs, who look as though the only hoi-polloi they know are the beaters on their grouse shoots. As for “Generation Now”, all we’ve got is a few chinless wonders whose grasp of Estuary English is about as good as their Mandarin, and a posse of Afros we bribed to join up with free iPads.’

He looked at Sam expectantly. ‘We need some Islamic cred. Someone who can speak to the street, reach out to the Muslim community, love them up a bit and make them feel more like we’re the party that has their interests at heart. Got it?’

Sam found himself nodding. All his time in academe he’d been surrounded by political correctness. Farmer’s refusal even to pay lip service to it was almost refreshing. ‘Yeah, I think I can help you out there.’

Farmer waved him on, like a traffic cop. ‘Go on, then. Do your stuff.’ He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, revealing large sweat stains round his armpits.

Sam looked at Pippa, who was smiling. He leaned forward. ‘Eh, okay, well. There’s a lot of people, not unlike me, really, who just want to get on with their lives. They’ve either fled tyranny or their parents struggled to get here so they can make something of themselves. None of us in this country have anything to gain by fighting with each other. We all want peace and quiet and prosperity.’

Farmer clapped. ‘Love it. More!’

Sam felt like a performing seal but he didn’t care: he had their attention and that made a welcome change. ‘Peace and prosperity only thrive where there’s the rule of law. As a criminologist, I know all about what happens when there’s no security. This party is right to support the police. Their job is very difficult and, yes, mistakes get made, but what’s the alternative?’

Farmer turned to Pippa. ‘I think our friend here has just talked himself into a job.’ He returned to Sam. ‘Got any skeletons?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Sex, drugs, rock and roll, anything the tabloids could stick you for?’

Was Karza a skeleton? If so, he wasn’t about to let on.

‘Married? Girlfriend – or boyfriend?’

‘None of the above – currently.’