Jess is undeterred. ‘Everyone knows Capital needs a buyer. Its shareholders have lost patience with management. And if you buy it, Media Corp becomes incomparably the most powerful media business in the UK. No one could touch you. I just don’t get why you wouldn’t buy it.’

‘Jimmy is interested in owning the businesses of the future, not some fucking franchise that was created in the 1950s to offer a fig leaf of competition to the BBC,’ he snaps.

‘For fuck’s sake, the Globe wasn’t exactly the white heat of technology when Breitner bought it.’ Jess leans forward, the fabric stretching tighter. It’s one of her kill moves, but I’ve never had the guts to ask whether she is consciously flaunting. ‘What Breitner is mostly about is power,’ she continues with admirable fluency given how much we’ve drunk. ‘Businesses of any vintage can deliver that to him. Why does he own all those newspapers, including ours, if all that excites him is some nebulous high-tech future?’

‘It’s not happening. Forget it.’ Elliott’s easy charm is fraying.

‘Pull the other one. The power Breitner would wield! There wouldn’t be a politician he couldn’t own.’

‘Not our style, sweetie.’ His self-righteous pose is nauseating.

Jess changes tack. ‘I’ve got two impeccable sources who say you are a liar. Media Corp is going to bid for it.’

Elliott sniffs and shoots his shirt cuffs. ‘If you had two impeccable sources, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You would have written it.’

Jess is pushing her luck. But Elliott is not sure how far she is bluffing. She doubles down. ‘I know for a fact that Breitner has lined up Schon for this. And I am going to write it, unless you give me a categorical denial. None of the “it’s bollocks” stuff.’

Elliott’s nerve has been touched. Schon Partners is the world’s most powerful and profitable investment bank. Having them on side in a takeover or a merger is the City equivalent of having Mossad and the Israeli Defence Force on the team. You would not bet against them.

Elliott takes a breath, smiles and says, ‘You are 100 per cent wrong. It’s a lie, it is false. If you print that, you’ll look like an idiot.’

‘A hundred quid says you’ll announce next week.’

‘Jesus,’ says Elliott, ‘you’re so annoying, I don’t know whether to hit you or fuck you.’

Jess bursts out laughing. I interject, ‘All that money on an expensive education and that’s the best you can come up with?’

No need for my chivalry. Jess has it covered. ‘If you want to get fucked, Elliott, just bend over. I’m writing the story.’

She glances at me, I thank Elliott for his hospitality and we saunter to the cloakroom to collect our coats. I can feel Elliott’s eyes following us.