Some months ago, Jimi Sonuga introduced me to two of his female neighbours. “Do you write a column in a newspaper?” enquired one of them. “Yes,” I replied. “Oh,” she smiled, “you are the man who hates Paul.” “I would not put it that way,” I protested, “I don’t hate anybody.” Then the lady did something interesting. She came nearer and whispered to me in mocking confidentiality: “Don’t worry about that. We can’t stand Paul too.”