We are on the plane on the way to Cyprus. In the seats behind us there is a single mother and her two hysterical girls. They are afraid of flying. One is whimpering pathetically and burying her head in her mother's shoulder. The other, older girl is muttering "I don't like it, I don't like it, I don't like it". The mother is trying to calm them both down in that gritted voice of a parent who is desperately clinging to the last of her patience.

We taxi down the runway. The engines roar. Just as the wheels lift off the ground, and the "I don't like it"s rise to a crescendo, I whisper in Mattgreen's ear:

"I'll give you a tenner if you start screaming"