George interrupted him. ‘Do you know how long I’ve been at the BBC?’ he asked.

‘I do, of course,’ replied Margaret. ‘And I have nothing but respect for you and all that you’ve—’

‘I am the man who called Enoch Powell a racist to his face on live television, causing him to rip off his microphone and storm off the set. I am the man who got Ronald Reagan to re-enact his “Where’s the rest of me?” scene from Kings Row in front of a studio audience while he was still President of the United States, making him look like a complete buffoon. I am the man who handed a condom to Pope John Paul the Second and asked him did he know what it was.’

‘An unwrapped condom at that,’ added Ben, nodding in support.

‘Unused, in fairness,’ added George.

‘I know all that,’ said Margaret. ‘But—’

‘But me no buts!’ cried George cheerfully. ‘I am the man who did all those things and more. Hundreds more. I have met everyone, interviewed everyone, fought with everyone, fallen out with everyone, written obituaries for everyone and, as dear Elton so memorably sang, I’m still standing.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ sang Ben, sotto voce, while doing a little bit with his hands.

‘The trick is not to add fuel to this fire, Margaret. If we give it oxygen, it will continue to roar and the flames will engulf us all. The best thing to do is just sit it out and wait for someone else to cock up. And they will, rest assured. Lineker or Hislop or Norton or one of that lot. They’ll say something untoward, they’ll be the villains of the week, all this will be forgotten, and I will return to my place on the stage as a national treasure, along with my dear friends David, Judi and Maggie.’

‘Dear Maggie,’ said Ben with a sigh.

George leaned back in his chair and adopted his reminiscing pose. ‘I remember I had her on the show once. Well, many times, of course, but on this particular occasion—’

‘George, please,’ said Margaret. ‘Can we stay on topic?’

‘Just a moment,’ he replied. ‘You’ll like this. Not a lot, as darling Paul used to say.’

‘Darling Paul,’ said Ben. ‘He once made me disappear.’

‘Enough!’ shouted Margaret.

The two men fell silent and looked down at their hands, momentarily chastened.

‘Now, I’ve had a word with the Director-General,’ she continued, ‘and obviously, we’ll support you a hundred per cent while publicly disassociating ourselves from everything you’ve said. But it would be very helpful if you could make some sort of statement in the meantime to express your regret. Nothing as flowery as what Bob suggested. Just something to take the heat off you.’

‘Ben,’ said Ben.

‘Something simple and uncontroversial.’

‘Fine,’ said George, throwing his hands in the air. ‘I give in. I am Napoleon surrendering to Wellington after the Battle of Waterloo.’

‘At least you don’t have delusions of grandeur,’ replied Margaret.