I fought away the fans eager to press their business cards into my hand. It was flattering that they held me in such high regard, but I didn’t really deserve all this attention. If anyone here wanted to see somebody really famous, then Mick Jagger was a far more worthy target. I’d spotted him earlier on sitting at the side of the room with one of his grand-daughters on his knee.

Then, of course, there was the main star of the show: the Pope. We all rushed to the window at the appointed hour to watch the papal parade. However, something had gone terribly wrong. All the coaches were empty and the poor horses that were supposed to draw them were being dragged backwards along the street by some supernatural force. I worried for the state of their hooves, and about the whereabouts (and safety) of His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI.