For a long time, I was an Olympic fencer. Then, I became a Michelin-star chef. No one asked me how I managed to julienne my vegetables while wearing an epée glove or if, given my busy schedule, I ever picked up the wrong weapon and impaled my opponent with a carrot. I was a swordsman by day and a chef by night, but the small hours were still free, so it seemed reasonable that when I wasn’t fencing or frying, I was managing a jazz club.

All of these activities were imputed to me by the Wikipedia page that I did not set up. My imputees operated under pseudonyms, so I have no idea who they were. Their informational method was, in the spirit of the age, completist and moronic. They trawled the digital universe with the assumption that I was the only person in the world to be called Dominic Green, apart from the science fiction writer of that name, which is actually my name. I’d take it back if he wasn’t also a part-time kung fu instructor.