My older cousin Michael, now long gone above to the final court of no appeal, was a judge: a very good one. The job suited his keen mind and mordant wit. But he knew his boundaries, as I once learnt the hard way. Meeting up at a family wedding, I congratulated him for one case which had made the papers, where he’d sent down a neo-Nazi for some nasty act of thuggery.

I meant it as a compliment, but he took offense. How dare I suggest politics came into this? Most improper. A clear case of grievous bodily harm, sentenced accordingly. That was all.