Smithy was built like the proverbial brick shithouse. He had an impressive set of cauliflower ears, courtesy of being front-row forward for his rugby team, and they complemented his don’t-mess-with-me face. People seemed to take his presence rather seriously, unlike mine. A barely five-foot-tall waif of a thing didn’t tend to have the same deterrent effect, even if she was armed with a mouth and wasn’t afraid to use it.

Smithy headed towards the vocal section and I turned towards Bennett. He was standing alongside the big top; a man-mountain surrounded by an interesting array of humanity. They only partially buffered the waves of anger radiating from him. Oh, how I longed for the rugby.

I sucked it up and went over to say hello.

‘Mr Bennett?’ I asked. He nodded. ‘I’m Detective Constable Shephard. You reported someone had tried to break into one of the animal cages?’

The flesh barrier parted in response to a grunted instruction and Terry Bennett shuffled forward until he towered above me.

‘First the fucking students, and now this bloody mob. How the hell am I supposed to run a show when all I get is idiot pranksters and bloody Nazi activists.’ His voice carried the gravel of a seasoned smoker. ‘And now the friggin’ TV is here, so if I go and belt one of the bastards, I’ll be the one getting crucified on the news.’ His breath confirmed my suspicion. ‘And where the hell are the rest of the police? What do you think the two of you can do by yourselves?’

I ignored the vote of confidence.

‘We’ll deal with the protesters; we’ll move them back out of the way. But first, I want to know about the lion-cage break-in. Is it true that you’re holding a couple of students? Can I see them, please?’

His face went a deeper shade of crimson.

‘Yes, we had the little shits, but when we tried to detain them, they said they’d have us for assault and kidnap charges. So we had to let them go – couldn’t even give them a good boot up the arse.’

If they’d been tampering with animal cages, they probably deserved a boot, or a psychiatric assessment, at least. ‘I’d hazard a guess they were law students,’ I said. ‘Are you able to give me a good description of them?’

‘We can do better than that,’ said a man with some rather interesting facial piercings and an Eastern European accent. ‘We have pictures.’ He held up a digital camera.

Someone had had a brainwave. The advantages of modern technology. ‘That will certainly make life easier. I’ll have to take the memory card with me, but we’ll return it as soon as we’ve copied the files.’

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Smithy’s face; it was scrunched up into a perplexed expression.