Last Sunday I went sea fishing for the first time in my life.

Five o’clock on a weekend morning is an unwelcome hour this time of year, even without a twenty minute wait on subzero roadside. Despite a satnav we managed to get lost repeatedly en route, but did eventually reach the meeting up point – a McDonalds on the edge of a retail park.

Not really a place I want to be at seven thirty on a Sunday morning, especially as it was chock full of very young girls slathered in thick and inappropriately adult make up, wearing sparkly tracksuits. They were apparently a dance troupe, but actually terrifying apparition at that hour in a small fast food outlet.

I remarked that it was like an outer circle of hell.

Not if you were Jimmy Savile came the reply.

The day went downhill from there.