It was the beginning of the ‘80s when Mick started to become unbearable. I went to WHSmith, the English bookshop on the Rue de Rivoli. I forget the title of the book, but there it was, some lurid novel by Brenda Jagger. Gotcha, mate! Now you’re Brenda whether you know it or like it or not. He certainly didn’t like it. It took him ages to find out. We’d be talking about “that bitch Brenda” with him in the room, and he wouldn’t know. But there’s a terrible thing that starts, and it’s very much like the way Mick and I behaved towards Brian. Once you release that acid, it begins to corrode.