The mystery Morrissey album that I had been hunting for years finally turned up in the Stockton-on-Tees branch of HMV. The LP record sleeve confirmed that the female vocalist was Jacqui Abbott of the Beautiful South. I was all set to buy it when I noticed the price: £37.50 was far too much to pay for six tracks on vinyl, no matter how rare the recording, and even though I could afford it as a millionaire in the pay of the Disney Corporation.

I later discovered that my decision not to purchase the record was the right one when KA announced that she had a copy in her shed, and would be delighted to give it to me. All we had to do was arrange a time when I could pick in up. In the meantime we were forced to sit through a dire musical performance by two bottle blonde country music singers at the Usher Hall in Edinburgh. When one started to boast on stage that she had the best glutes in the business I recognised her as the former owner of my old gym. The concert ended with a resounding chorus of “Sisters are doin’ it for themselves”, during which the audience members were expected to join hands. I struggled to do this with my near neighbour because his hand was a bare, fingerless stump.

After the concert I lost TPR, KA, and KA’s husband in one of the venue’s many bars. While they were enjoying themselves, I spent the rest of the evening in the back seat of a cab driving around South Kensington looking for a cashpoint as my driver whinged on about London property prices.