‘We’re not suggesting that there are two of us,’ said Wilkes.

‘Good,’ said George. ‘Because one is bad enough. Two would be insupportable.’

‘You don’t want to be labelled with a conventional pronoun that has been in common usage since the English tongue was first established,’ continued Beverley. ‘And so, instead, you’d like to be labelled with an equally conventional pronoun that has been in common usage since the English tongue was first established. Simply the pluralized version. That’s it, isn’t it?’

Wilkes frowned, the tiny mind in that vast Grand Canyon of a head scrambling to think of an answer. On the table, sensing that this conversation was going to continue for some time, Ustym Karmaliuk allowed his own head to retreat a little further into his shell, giving him the appearance of Anne Boleyn or King Charles I in their latter moments.

‘He’s changed his Twitter profile to they/their,’ said Elizabeth, who had been tapping away at her phone for the last minute or two.

‘They have,’ said Wilkes, correcting her.

‘What?’

‘You said, “He’s changed his Twitter profile.” You meant, “They’ve changed their Twitter profile.”’

‘Oh yes. Sorry.’

‘It’s fine. We totally forgive you. And we still appreciate you.’

‘And we appreciate you too. I mean, I do. I’m staying binary for the time being.’

‘I have a question,’ said Beverley. ‘What do you do when you’re in France?’

Wilkes stared at her, wondering why she was asking such a thing. ‘We don’t … we’re sorry, we don’t understand what you mean.’

‘Well, here in England, we employ just one form of the third person plural. They. But in France, of course, they employ two. Ils and elles, the former for men and the latter for women. So, what do you do when you’re in France? How do you define yourself there? Do you pretend that you’re two men or two women?’

Wilkes looked down at the ground, his forehead crinkling so deeply in confusion that Beverley was sure that she could see some of the filth squeezing its way out of his pores, like the last globules from a tube of murky russet oil-based paint.

‘Actually, we don’t know the answer to that,’ he replied. ‘We haven’t been to France since the pandemic, so the issue hasn’t arisen. But we’ll look into it and get back to you.’

‘Oh, please do,’ said Beverley, placing her hands together as if in prayer. ‘I’ll be on tenterhooks until I know. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll get a wink of sleep.’