‘It’s not a trick!’ he says, struggling to control his voice. ‘There are more mysteries in the human mind than we can ever dream of …’

‘Is … is he crying?’ I say.

‘Looks like it,’ says Susan.

Robbie Ferguson is wrapping up the interview. ‘… a great sport and a great entertainer. Ladies and gentlemen – Kenneth McKinley!’

The camera lingers on a close-up of Kenneth and his watery, baffled smile, while the audience applauds, politely.

Susan fast-forwards and the tape spools quickly through the rest of the programme. Kenneth doesn’t reappear. The programme credits whiz past and the picture goes black. She has raised the remote control again to press ‘stop’ when the picture comes on again and I say, ‘Don’t! Let’s see,’ and she presses ‘play’ instead.

Chapter 51

There is Kenneth again, on a different stage. This time, though, he’s not in his kilt: just jeans and a huge striped jumper. He has grown a little beard, and his hair is longer. Behind him on a backdrop in big letters it says

NEW AGE – NEW BEGINNING

1983

Kenneth is addressing an audience, although it’s hard to judge how many people there are. It’s an amateur production: the camerawork is wobbly and the sound isn’t great.

‘My friends,’ he says as he raises both arms above his head, ‘a new age of understanding and insight is upon us! Together we can dream of a new future. A future free of conflict! A future free of disease! A future of love and brotherhood, in which we use the infinite power of our subconscious to release us from poverty, from sickness, from weakness and from hatred!’

He is mesmerising to watch. His voice swoops, his arms slash the air in front of him and his hands make chopping motions to emphasise his words. I don’t even understand most of what he says, to be honest. It sounds like a sermon by one of those old-time preachers, only there is no mention of God, or heaven, or hell. Instead, it all seems to be about ‘releasing our inner powers’ and ‘coming together to dream a better future’. Kenneth displays pictures behind him of the stars, and ancient temples, the pyramids in Egypt, complicated-looking mathematical formulas, a picture of a human brain, and a Native American chief complete with a huge feathered head-dress …

Then he holds up a Dreaminator and the audience applauds. ‘This, my friends, will change the world! Control your dreams, and the awesome force of our thoughts, even when we sleep, will create a world of …’

Then the picture goes fuzzy and finally black as the tape ends.

Susan turns off the VHS machine and we sit in silence for a moment.

‘Wow!’ I say.

‘Poor Mr McKinley,’ she says at last.

‘Ridiculous,’ says Mola, taking a long and noisy slurp of tea. ‘Nothing but cocky-pop. And dangerous cocky-pop as well.’