“I have a recurring vision of being hit by a car and my face being smashed against the pavement and blood everywhere,” Felix White says suddenly.

“I have the exact same vision,” Weeks says, reeling around to face him, “Blue car?”

White: “Yes, small blue car.”

Weeks: “A really crappy one, like a Corsa or something?”

White: “Yeah. And the rain is coming down and I can feel my teeth on the pavement.”

At this point Hugo White, who has been watching the scene, shakes his head and sighs wearily. “Jesus, you two,” he says, and they all laugh.