Only a few minutes later, however, the hacks had started calling, asking for quotes, and he made sure to litter them with so many expletives that they were essentially unusable. And by the time he made the mistake of opening the Twitter app on his phone in the late afternoon, thousands of messages had appeared on his notifications, all from the same compassionate, #BeKind idealists letting him know that he was old, fat, stupid, ignorant, a racist, a homophobe, an anti-Semite, a transphobe, a Remoaner, a misogynist, a hypocrite, a dinosaur, a child abuser, a fascist, a Frenchman, a twat, a prick, a dementia sufferer, a bad driver, a noisy eater, a rapist, a Daily Mail reader, a Tory, an Irish Republican, a Hamas supporter and a fan of Michael Bublé.

‘Totally unfair,’ he grunted, appalled by the insults. ‘I’ve never bought a Michael Bublé record in my life.’

Later, when he got home, reporters were standing outside his front gate and, for some reason, Achilles was chatting away to them, wearing a tank-top to show off his biceps as he brought them cups of tea.

‘What on earth are you wearing?’ George asked, glaring at his son’s arms.

‘Sun’s out, guns out, Pops,’ replied Achilles with a grin. ‘And don’t worry about my style choices. The bigger question is, what have you got yourself into now?’

George had fought his way through the scrum, the smile so wide on his face that he felt as if his cheeks might crack. Still, he thought, it was good to have Achilles about the place. The boy was a complete idiot, of course, but at least he was amusing. Unintentionally.

‘Shut up and get inside,’ he said, pushing his son through the door and closing it behind him on the assembled vultures. As he walked into the living room, he found the rest of his family gathered, watching Sky News, where a group of reporters were live on television hassling some poor unfortunate man who was simply trying to get through his front door. The setting looked painfully familiar to him.

‘And that was broadcaster George Cleverley returning home only a few moments ago,’ said the presenter when the outside broadcast switched back to the studio. ‘Apparently unwilling or unable to address charges of hate speech in a tweet he posted earlier today which has proved deeply upsetting to the transgender community.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ he roared, taking a whisky that somehow had been thrust into his hands by a strange woman who he only vaguely recognized as Beverley’s new ghost.