And he didn’t get any further then because I hit him hard on the back of the skull and jumped on his back and we were into a tussle on the slippery, cold ground. I had to be quick before he recovered himself. He kept twisting and jerking his head round to see who I was, but I forced his hands behind his back while he was still reeling and snapped them into handcuffs before he could yank off my mask. The gloves made my fingers a bit stupid but I got it done anyway.

I could confirm even from the smell of him that he’d had a load to drink. It was slowing him down.

Still, he was sinewy and vicious, working well with what he had left, trying to knee me in the groin and headbutt me at the same time. ‘Why the fuck are you wearing that mask?’ he spat out, slurring again. I knocked him to the floor with my fist. His feet skidded on the wet ground, and he fell over awkwardly on his shoulder.

My mask was tugged awry. For a second I couldn’t see anything at all but white rubber, but I jerked it back into place and got the toy gun out of my jacket pocket while he was still down, quickly, so he couldn’t get a good look at it. I pressed it to the back of his neck, put my face close to his ear and whispered very deliberately, ‘Come quietly with me or I will shoot you in the head.’ I had thickened my accent, and the cotton wool in my cheeks made my voice sound sludgier.

He stiffened slightly then, became calmer and more alert, as though I was finally talking a language he properly understood.

‘Where are we going?’ he said. Not so much of the swagger now.

‘Somewhere to talk.’

‘Who are you?’

‘Bill fucking Clinton,’ I said.

We went inside the house, me still pressing the gun into his neck. I had to watch him like a hawk. He was fast and tougher than me and looking for a way out. Any moment, even with his hands tied, everything could turn around.

‘What kind of gun is it?’ he asked. I could hear him calculating.

‘One that kills people,’ I said. ‘Now shut the fuck up.’

It wasn’t a good position to be in, threatening a fella like McGee with a fake gun. It was like going into a showdown during the Cold War with an Airfix model of a nuclear bomb. He could sniff out weakness. I was worried he was going to push it so far that in normal circumstances I’d have had to give him a warning shot, and all he’d get would be a soggy potato pellet.