“USP, Sadie. Unique selling point! Marketing for Small Businesses, Friday evenings in February. Or was it March? I don’t suppose it matters. We need to make Norman stand out from the crowd if we’re going to find him a venue at this late stage. So I thought, well now, who wouldn’t be intrigued by someone called Little Big Man?”

Now, if that’s not harnessing the power of free adult-education courses at its finest, I don’t know what is. But I soon realized I hadn’t seen anything yet. Leonard had also made a Facebook page for Little Big Man (Social Media for Beginners, last Saturday in January) and, even though my lack of knowledge about social media is in direct correlation to my lack of enthusiasm for real-life social interaction, I took a guess that having 267 followers wasn’t bad for something that was a) only a few days old, and b) a total fabrication.

“Leonard, how... I mean, who are all those, um...followers. The people?”

“Aha, well, it’s very easy to make friends and influence people on Facebook, Sadie. Nothing like real life at all, is it? Nine pounds ninety-five for 250 likes! I did the research and I understand that’s excellent value to make Little Big Man look like a very popular young chap!”

All I understood was that I probably owed Leonard a tenner, but beyond that, how Facebook likes worked, or why in fact they mattered, was beyond me. And I’m sure I’d had better things to do on the last Saturday in January than find out. But all of a sudden this was all starting to feel a little bit like a runaway train, with Leonard adjusting the driver’s hat as he chattered excitedly on.

“Tomorrow I’ll start to make regular entries and...that is, I mean, er...posts, on the Facebook page, using the poster I made, some comedy videos and lots of other things concerning the festival. So very quickly it’ll look like Norman has, um...what they call a profile. Then, when someone from one of the Fringe venues I’ve contacted takes a look, they’ll know he’s serious and no doubt offer him a slot!” Toot toot!

In fact, I had plenty of doubts, but for once in my life I decided to keep my mouth shut. Which turned out to be wise, because Leonard was already steaming ahead to the next level crossing.

“Right then, Sadie, I believe we’re ready to start work on stage two. Take a seat next to me here.”

Honestly, the old guy was positively radiant. All I really wanted to know was when Sundays had turned into the busiest day of the week. I took a seat. And a deep breath.

When Leonard opened up the Finding Fathers spreadsheet I could see it had come along quite a bit. Where previously there’d just been empty spaces in the columns next to the names I’d pried from my memory, now each had multiple phone numbers and locations, as well as several thumbnail-sized photos lined up beside them. Except for Dan McLaughlin/McLachlan/McKintyre’s line, which had about twenty photos and a whole jumble of phone numbers and place names. I saw Stockport, Alcester and Kidderminster before I needed to close my eyes. I got a good grip on the edge of the kitchen table and forced myself to open them again. Shit. Was this really happening? Hold on tight.