In exchange for recording no arrest, Officer Hanley and I had come to a very civilised agreement about removing the graffiti, but so far, I’d worked on it for all of about twenty minutes with turps and a wire brush, and I’d only managed to get off about a third of the first letter. It was backbreaking stuff, and Ray hovering behind his fence muttering and tutting at my technique hadn’t helped. I’d lost interest in the job quickly, and also, with the luxury of contemplation time, I decided I was inclined to agree with drunk me. I rather liked the sentiment. I mean, cats and kings; you betcha and why not?

I still hadn’t been able to firm up a memory of the circumstances behind the quote, but whenever I repeated the words in my head it felt tantalisingly close.

‘No, no, that’s not it at all, Mr Mulberry. It’s great. It’s awesome, I love it. We . . . everybody loved it.’ Great? Awesome? Everybody loved it? Who loves it? And if Pete wasn’t here about the graffiti, what then? I caught an encouraging nod from Dom, in Pete’s direction, which seemed to give him the confidence he needed.

‘Look, do you think . . . I mean, would you mind if I came in and talked to you about something, Mr Mulberry? I think it might be easier if I had a chance to explain properly.’

‘In? You mean in here?’ I looked at my little shed then at Pete, wondering where that massive Adonis was going to fit. Like I said, I wasn’t used to receiving guests aside from very small ones and, just the once, a lovely lady I’d met at the Haverstock Tavern on the day Australia beat England in the fifth test in Hobart, an event I vowed was never to be repeated. The lady, I mean. I have very little control over the results of the Ashes series, contrary to what I’ve told George. That was the night I discovered that bringing polite company back to a three-by-four-metre garden shed with a single bed was not only impractical, it was also very uncomfortable. And I’ll leave it there.

But Pete insisted he was game, so in he came, and I was right, because he took up most of the spare space. It was hard not to be impressed at such a remarkable physical specimen, and I was briefly side-tracked by the memory of my own most recent attempt to get fit – the end result of which was the realisation by both Gentleman and me that running around Hampstead Heath at top speed was not our bag. And shin splints.

‘OK, Pete.’ I shook the empty plastic milk bottle I’d taken out of the fridge, which I’d just remembered had already been empty when I put it back in there the night before. ‘I can offer you tea but no coffee, sugar but no milk. What’ll it be?’ While I was talking, I was subtly trying to work out if the two mugs on the bench were fit for purpose. Without being too obvious, I couldn’t be sure, but I decided Pete was just going to have to roll the dice and take his chances like the rest of us.