‘Oh my God, that’s such a transphobic comment!’ roared someone else.
‘But it’s not! It’s simply a statement of fact. Ethnic cleansing has nothing to do with transgender people. You might as well connect homophobia to a fear of horses!’
‘Why you think the gay men hate the horses?’ asked the Trinidadian woman, hands firmly on hips.
‘The Doctor has always been played by a man and he should still be played by a man!’ shouted someone else over the throng. ‘It’s political correctness gone mad!’
‘Now, I take exception to that,’ said George, turning around. ‘Jodie Whittaker is a very fine actress who, in my opinion, has embodied the role with élan and—’
An egg flew in his direction, hitting his shoulder, and he stared at it as it fell to the ground before breaking open. It appeared to be hard-boiled, which seemed to defeat the purpose of the exercise. But a moment later, another soared through the air, a fresh one this time, and smashed against his shirt, just to the left of his tie.
‘Oh, really, this is too much,’ shouted George. ‘I’m not some sort of monster, you know. I’m a beloved BBC personality! You’ve got it wrong, all of you.’
Now, two tomatoes came his way, along with an onion, but before he could assemble the raw ingredients for a tasty omelette, Samir had taken him by the arm and dragged him towards the revolving doors and they made their way inside, away from the rabble, while George examined the damage the protestors had done to his suit.
‘What a bunch of absolute fuckers,’ he said, taking his handkerchief from his pocket and trying to remove the egg detritus from his clothing. The yolk proved impervious to his efforts, leaving a yellow stain along his shirt. ‘I try to be polite and understanding, and this is what I get for my troubles. We should keep a set of fire hoses down here and turn them on people like that. What gives them the right?’
‘The law,’ said Samir. ‘The right to protest peacefully.’
‘You call that peaceful?’ snapped George. ‘They’re about as peaceful as a recently divorced couple taking a holiday together in the Gaza Strip. Can’t we call the police?’
‘I don’t recommend it, sir,’ said Samir. ‘The best thing is to allow them to let off steam, get their photos and videos for social media, and then they usually disperse. They probably think you’ll be in the building for the rest of the day anyway, so they won’t wait around for no reason.’
‘And why wouldn’t I be here for the rest of the day?’ asked George, frowning. ‘Do you know something I don’t know?’
‘Only that you’re in a great deal of trouble.’
‘Well, the dogs on the street know that. So, thanks for the insight.’
Samir gritted his teeth. ‘There’s no need to take out your frustrations on me, Mr Cleverley,’ he said. ‘I’m simply trying to help.’
George nodded. ‘You’re quite right,’ he said. ‘I apologize, Samir. None of this is your fault. It’s just been an incredibly stressful week, that’s all.’
‘George.’
A voice from his left made him turn around, and his heart sank as a woman appeared from the waiting area and made her way slowly towards him.
‘Oh, Jesus wept,’ he said, pressing his hand to his forehead. ‘Who the hell let her in?’
‘She said she was your sister,’ said Samir. ‘And that she’d come to offer her support.’
‘She’s not my bloody sister,’ snapped George. ‘My sister lives in Los Angeles with a woman old enough to be her mother and she hasn’t spoken to me in years due to a misunderstanding entirely unrelated to my current troubles.’
‘I can ask her to leave, if you like,’ said Samir.
‘No, it’s fine. She’s a … a friend. Thank you, Samir. If you could just give us a moment.’
The security guard nodded and made his way back outside, where the crowds had put down their banners and were taking selfies with a remarkably friendly Gordon Brown, who had shown up to pre-record an episode of Celebrity Mastermind.
‘Angela,’ said George, smiling broadly as he greeted his visitor.
‘You’ve been ignoring my text messages,’ she replied.
‘Not deliberately,’ he said. ‘Responding has been on my to-do list, along with saving my job and trying to stop my daughter from contracting leprosy.’
‘We have to talk,’ said Angela. ‘This baby isn’t going away.’
‘Of course we do,’ he said. ‘Now, I’ve forgotten, how far along are you now?’
‘Four months.’
‘Right, so we’re anticipating a Christmas miracle. That’s another present I’ll have to buy.’ He laughed to himself and looked at his erstwhile lover, hoping that perhaps she would laugh, too, but her face remained rigid.
‘I told you before,’ she said. ‘If you don’t want anything to do with the baby or with me, then you just need to say so. I don’t want to be left in limbo, that’s all.’
‘I believe the last pope got rid of limbo,’ said George. ‘Or cancelled it, as they say. Or maybe it was the present pope. One of them anyway. Was it the one who lives in the bed and breakfast or the one who lives in the garden shed? Honestly, you’d think one of them would just move into the papal suite, wouldn’t you? It’s got to be a lot more comfortable.’
‘Why are you rambling like this?’ asked Angela. ‘Are you just trying to fob me off?’
‘No, I think it’s because I’m about two steps away from having a massive coronary. The truth is, I can’t think straight right now, Angela, I’m sorry. I’m honestly not trying to be a cad. Everything is just up in the air and, until some of those things, you know, fall and land on me, crushing me to death and leaving my body to be scraped off the street, I don’t think I can make any big decisions.’
‘So, in the meantime, I’m left to worry about my future. And Basil’s future.’
‘Who on earth is Basil?’ asked George, frowning.
‘Basil,’ she insisted, pointing at her stomach.
‘Oh, it’s a boy, then?’
‘I think so, yes. I told you before. A mother can tell.’
‘I rather hoped it would be a girl. So I’d have two of each. Like Abba.’
‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you. Should I send it back and we can try again?’
‘Christ, no,’ said George. ‘And what do you mean by Basil? Who calls their child Basil these days? It’s a terrible name.’
‘It was my father’s name.’
‘So what? My father’s name was Adolf, but I didn’t call any of my sons after him.’
‘No it wasn’t,’ said Angela.
‘It was, actually. It’s not something I’ve told very many people, so don’t spread it around. Hang on, maybe that’s why the third group out there think I’m anti-Semitic? Perhaps someone found out and told them? It doesn’t show up on my Wikipedia page. At least, it wasn’t there last time I checked.’
‘George, can we just agree a time and place to—’