Fleas is grinning. ‘That’s the boyo. We finally landed him – we didn’t even want to, he was still useful, but the thick eejit . . . Himself and his pal Fonzie were in a B&B in Cork, right? Parcelling up a load of Es that had just come off a boat?’ He’s got the giggles; it’s catching, even before I know what we’re laughing at. ‘And Goggles was sampling the merchandise, only he went too far. Three in the morning, he’s out in the front garden in his jocks, singing – I heard it was “I Kissed a Girl”.’

By now I’m lying back on the sofa, laughing properly. It feels good.

‘When the landlord goes out to see what’s the story, Goggles gives him a hug, tells him he’s only gorgeous, then legs it back inside, hops in bed with the landlady and starts playing peekaboo under the covers. The uniforms arrive, take him back to his room to sleep it off, and there’s Fonzie crashed out in a chair and a hundred grand of Es spread out on the bed.’

‘Ah, Jaysus,’ I say, wiping my eyes. ‘That’s beautiful, that is. You couldn’t just seize the haul and let the lads go, no?’

‘We tried. The gaffer had half the squad looking for some way the uniforms had fucked up, illegal search or something, yeah? But they were watertight. Poor old Goggles is going down. Here’ – Fleas points his sandwich at me – ‘you should visit him, inside. Cheer him up a bit.’

He’s messing, but it sounds like there’s a corner of serious in there. ‘I’ll get him to do his Katy Perry for me,’ I say. ‘Cheer us both up.’

‘Not from what I heard, it wouldn’t.’

‘Come here,’ I say. ‘Speaking of the lads. The Courier’s after running my photo. Is that gonna fuck you up?’

Fleas is the reason I don’t let my photo out there. They did me up for the gig – curls, big hoop earrings, shitload of makeup, pink crop tops with cheeky and your boyfriend wants me across the front – but still: better safe. He shrugs. ‘No hassle so far. See what happens.’ It takes a lot more than this to panic an undercover. ‘I wouldn’t say anyone recognised you. You’re all fancy these days’ – a nod at my suit, half impressed, half amused – ‘and in fairness, it’s been a few years.’

‘Rub it in, why don’t you.’

Fleas examines me critically, chewing. ‘You’re looking all right. Not great, now; you look like you could do with a holiday. Or a tonic.’

‘I’m grand. I could use a bit of sunshine, just. What are the chances?’

‘Or a change of scene.’