The old gang was reunited and we returned to the scene of our most successful night out. I led the nameless Korean honeymoon couple and the leather-coated Laurence Fishburne down flights of spiral staircases taking us several storeys below platform level at Borough tube station.  I knew the paparazzi would be waiting for us at street level but, for now, we were free to enjoy ourselves.

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I dashed into the kitchen and dragged all my flatmates out to witness a natural phenomenon.  I wanted them to enjoy the sight of millions of ‘black-brown beetles’ moving into a tree trunk while I lectured them about how this only happened “fourteen years after the trunk began to rot”.  Once again, I was presenting as fact something I had just made up.