‘All right, then. She helps nut jobs. The point is, I’m reasonably sure that she’s genuine about not wanting to hang me out to dry. It’s not in her nature. Or, at least, I don’t think it is. When you think about what she does for a living, it shows that she’s a good person. She cares about people. About strangers, I mean. I’ve never given the slightest shit about strangers, have you? My fans, yes. I’m always polite to my fans. They’re the ones who keep me on the box. But when I read about some tragedy in the newspaper, a plane falling out of the sky, say, well, it never really has any emotional effect on me whatsoever, although I act as if it does and I make all the appropriate sympathetic sounds on the chat show, then throw a few quid at whatever turgid song has been recorded to help the victims. But the truth is, I always think, well, that’s just the way the world works, isn’t it? Some people die, some people live. And the planet keeps turning. There’s so many of us that God or Buddha or Elvis or whoever’s up there needs to wake a dormant volcano every so often, just to keep the numbers down. It’s been happening since the dawn of time. Dinosaurs and what have you. We can’t care about everything. Even if we pretend to.’

‘I’d like to think I’m a charitable sort,’ said Jeremy.

‘Well, we all would, wouldn’t we? Listen, I have to do twenty minutes every time Comic Relief’s on, so don’t talk to me about charity. Last year I was forced into a One Direction skit with Jeremy Paxman, John Humphrys and David Attenborough and they made me play Liam. Liam! I mean, I ask you! I suggested they park me in the corner, smoking a fag and pretending that I was too good for any of this and we could say I was Zayn, but they weren’t having any of it. Anyway, I was saying that Angela is a decent person. She cares about others.’

‘So, she’s not looking for money?’

‘I don’t think so, no.’

‘And she wants this baby?’

‘She says that she does.’

‘And I presume that you don’t?’

George shrugged his shoulders. ‘I could do without it, if I’m honest,’ he said. ‘I’m sixty years old. I love my wife, even if there’s been some distance between us over the last year or two. My kids hold the usual resentments, but they don’t seem to hate me in any extreme way. They’re all still living in my house, after all, despite the many hints I drop about them finding their own places. And the truth is, I don’t want to lose them or hurt them. Nor do I want to lose Beverley or hurt her. I have my life exactly as I want it, do you see? So, I had a little bit of fun on the side. I shouldn’t have to suffer any adverse consequences for that, should I?’