‘We could diversify. We could buy a publishing house or a football team,’ suggests Gray. He’s thinking of the free tickets that he could blag for his friends.

That’s a stupid idea,’ comments Di.

‘Gary, the commercial director, likes it.’

‘I think it is a great idea,’ says Di.

‘Can we keep to the point, please,’ I instruct. It’s getting hot and late. I call out for more coffee and Coke. The rest of London’s workforces teem out of their offices and escape into pubs for a long cool lager. This isn’t an option for my team.

‘How about a “fly-on-the-wall” programme?’ asks Jaki. ‘They are cheap and popular.’

‘Absolutely. On which subject?’

‘The police force?’ offers Mark. ‘We could expose their ruthless tactics and racist tendencies.’

‘They do a pretty good job of that themselves, without TV,’ points out Jaki.

‘The fire brigade?’ offers Ricky. I know he’s simply getting hot and sweaty over the idea of them swinging down their pole. He’s a sucker for uniforms.

‘Been done.’

His disappointment is criminal.

‘Banker-wankers ?’

‘Same as the police force, really.’

‘The gas board?’

‘Done.’

‘Electricity?’

‘And water. Nothing left to be said on the utilities scams.’

‘Or builders or mechanics.’

‘It’s all been done before,’ sighs Mark. ‘It’s all too undemanding and formulaic.’

‘We are talking about an escapist medium,’ I remind him. ‘No one wants demanding. Demanding is how we describe our kids, red bills and the lover we no longer want to have sex with.’

We fall silent again. I look at the trash that’s lying on the table. Numerous empty cans of diet Coke, overflowing ashtrays, curling sandwiches. This mountain of debris and my Patek Philippe watch tell me it’s time to call it a day.

‘OK, go home. Go and see your partners and kids.’ I flop back into my chair and put my head on the desk. The cool surface is a relief. ‘But don’t stop thinking about this. The idea may come to you on the tube or in the bath or whilst you’re making love.’