It wasn’t the first punch he’d thrown, he knew how to do it, but it wasn’t one of his best. The booze in him made him slow and indirect; I stepped inside the swing and dug my fist hard into his belly. The wind goes out of them when you do that, and if you can hit hard enough and quick enough in the same spot they go down. I did and he did. I helped the girl up and she pulled down her dress and adjusted things.

‘Did he hurt you?’

She shook her head and a panicked look came into her eyes. ‘Don’t tell…’

‘No telling’, I said. ‘Go that way and wash your face.’

She grabbed up a detached shoe, stepped around the cave man, whose grunts were of a different quality now, shot past me and went out. I knocked the cushions back into shape, checked that no harm had come to the painting, and turned my attention to the man on the floor.

He was vaguely familiar; I’d thought so at his unsteady arrival and the feeling was stronger now, although it’s hard to place someone when he’s three shades redder than usual and is lying on the carpet fumbling with his dick. I was curious to know.

‘Who’re you? Lover of the month?’

‘Get fucked!’

‘I doubt it, not tonight. And you neither. You’ve had enough party. Time to go.’

‘I’m Colly Matthews.’

He was. It wasn’t a name you’d lay false claim to. Colly Matthews was a Rugby League front row forward, a regular member of a senior side when he wasn’t serving out suspensions. I’m a Union man myself, and I hadn’t even seen him play, but I knew from the back pages that his nickname was ‘Sin bin’, that he was under suspension at the moment and that there was a movement afoot to ban him for life. Or at least to ban his elbow, which would have banned the rest of him as well.

‘I don’t care who you are, you should ask a lady’s permission first. You’ve got time on your hands, you should go to a charm school.’