‘You know I’m not a racist, don’t you, Samir? I’d hate it if you thought otherwise.’

‘Of course, Mr Cleverley.’

‘As it happens, I’m particularly fond of your people. Always have been.’

‘My people?’

‘Moroccans. That’s where my wife and I went on our honeymoon, you know. Casablanca.’

‘Actually, I’m Lebanese,’ said Samir.

‘Not Moroccan?’

‘No.’

‘Well, how do you like that? Anyway, as long as you know that I’m not racist. So, who else is out there?’

‘The next group are the people who think you’re transphobic.’

‘Ah, them,’ said George, frowning.

‘They seem particularly energized.’

‘Indeed. They’re furious at me for doing something to support their cause. My bad, as the young people say. And the next lot?’

‘The Friends of Israel. They say you’re anti-Semitic.’

‘Anti-Semitic?’ asked George, surprised. ‘That’s a new one. What on earth have I done to upset the Jews? I don’t recall saying anything about them.’

‘I think they just assume that you hate them too,’ said Samir.

‘That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it?’

‘They’re very insistent.’

‘The truth is, I don’t hate anyone,’ protested George. ‘Except all those morons with nothing better to do than stand around here on a Thursday morning waving idiotic signs in the air. I despise them.’

‘Perhaps it would be best not to say that to their faces.’

‘They wouldn’t understand anyway. The cheese fell off their crackers a long time ago. Anyway, that’s three groups. What about the group hanging around outside Wogan House? Those six overweight white men who look like they’ve never been laid in their lives? What am I supposed to have done to them?’

‘Actually, they’re not here for you, Mr Cleverley,’ said Samir. ‘They’re Doctor Who fans and they show up every week to protest the fact that the Doctor is being played by a woman.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ replied George, rolling his eyes. ‘They can’t still be upset about that, surely? It must be three years by now, and she’s leaving anyway.’

‘They take the Time Lord very seriously.’

‘There’s not one of them would even fit inside the Tardis. I don’t care how big it is. But look, how am I supposed to get inside the building with all those fools screaming for my blood? I have a meeting with the top brass, and I don’t want to get murdered before I get fired. I’d lose out on my pay-off.’

Samir sucked in his breath and shook his head. ‘There’s not much for it, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘You’ll just have to make a run for it, that’s all. I’ll come with you, to keep you safe. And maybe the driver …?’

‘You can leave me out of it,’ came the reply from the front seat. ‘I drive. I don’t walk.’

‘Then just the two of us,’ said Samir. ‘Come on, Mr Cleverley. We’ll go quickly so you won’t get hurt.’

‘All right,’ said George with a sigh, paying the cab driver his fare and adding a five-pound tip. ‘Let’s do it.’