‘You don’t have to ask me twice,’ he said as he shut the door. ‘As it happens, I have a passion for black cabs. I’ve often dreamed of owning one.’

‘You can have this one, if you like,’ said the driver, turning the pages of his newspaper. ‘Quarter of a million quid and I’ll give you the keys right now.’

‘I’m afraid my BBC salary wouldn’t stretch that far,’ said Samir.

‘Then we’ll stay as we are, shall we?’

‘I suppose they’re all here for me, are they?’ asked George, nodding towards the crowd.

‘Most of them, yes,’ admitted the security guard. ‘I split them into groups so I could keep track of them. Over there on the left are the ones who think you’re a racist.’

‘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.’