Dear Madame Arcati - I was calmly writing a review of Douglas Hurd's Robert
Peel for the Daily Express and broke off for a fig roll, cup of coffee, and
a glance at your tonic column. All is lost! Ronaldo Apollo! I feel ill! My
whole life a mistake! Cruel, cruel! Air, air! How can I go back to the desk
now? Any desk, ever again?
For the cause of Duncan's erotic if not existential crisis, click here