Michael Crick, that is. His book Stranger than Fiction is a brilliant tome, and I took the opportunity of Mr Crick’s presence in the Brighton conference tea room to tell him that.
As if that wasn’t enough, I then got interviewed by my hero. But, although I might have looked like a hero-worshipping walkover, I am not as daft as I am cabbage looking, and didn’t give away anything more than my name, rank and serial number under his interrogation! Needless to say my ruminations went straight into the editor’s wastebasket.