I wonder if he’s practised that in a mirror. It almost makes sense, the way he says it. I’m not saying I agree with him, but I recognise what he’s talking about as a sort of truth. After all, I’ve spent my entire life reading in the news about how the arseholes win, they steal and kill and lie and get away with it, convince themselves they’re heroes. They’re given honours – ergo, they must be good guys. Plus they have yachts. (Lots of them do, I feel sure. I’ve never been on a sociopathic criminal’s yacht but I can imagine what it’s like, with the caviar and the paid women and scallops the size of saucers prepared by the personal chef, I can really picture it or did I see it in a movie? It’s true that the most powerful person I’ve ever met was the executive VP of EcoWarriors.net I temped for, and I don’t know if you could say I really met him, but I did repair the element in his personal self-heating cafetière, though I digress. The point is, he was kind of an arsehole, too, despite being all about the polar bears.) Powerful people like this live in a private world where no one matters but the powerful, some narcissist who thinks he’s so great and by some weird mirror-neuron alchemy, everyone else falls for it, too. The Wizard of Oz. Or is that my cupboard-under-the-stairs persona talking? After all, I always seem to be on the losing team. But not all yacht owners are like Martin Elstree. Some of them are lovely, I’m sure. You can’t stop aspiring just because the top of the heap is overpopulated by narcissists, can you?

I’ll maybe need to think about this more, but now is not a good time and there may not ever be a later. I can’t win here. All I can do is give in to him, because that’s what people like me always do. It’s just too tiring to keep fighting when I’m so unsure of myself and he’s so certain of himself. It’s like I’m white paint and he’s red. I don’t stand a chance holding on to my purity. Ewwww, what an image.

‘You do feel dirty, don’t you?’ he says. ‘Look at you. You’re weighing how to deal with me and wondering if you can live with yourself if you take my offer.’

‘No I’m not.’ Even I don’t believe me, and he laughs.

‘You’re so easy to read. You think O is such a good guy? Well, she’s not. See, people with cancer can be cunts, too. People in wheelchairs can be evil, but that doesn’t fit with your worldview, does it? You’re so simple-minded, really, it’s child’s play to manipulate you.’