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the Orange Egg design studio. Then, of course, there were the boys – his core friends – and, last but by no means least, Ashley, who had organised the evening.
    With so many people in one place to wish him well Rob was genuinely moved. He held Ashley’s hand tightly as he went round the room greeting his guests, with a huge lump in his throat.
    However, Rob’s last night as a council-tax-paying resident of the borough of Wandsworth was a far more sedate affair. It was just Phil, Woodsy, Ian One, Ian Two, Kevin and Darren. And as the conversation kicked off – something to do with transfer rumours at Manchester United – Rob sat back, sipped his Guinness and savoured the moment. To Rob there were few things in life as satisfying as being surrounded by a group of men with whom he felt he belonged, even if they were all quite different. He felt as if an invisible bond bound them tightly to each other, although they never acknowledged it. And whether he moved to Manchester or Malaysia they would be his friends for life, he was sure.
    As the conversation turned to a pending England match, the players’ fitness and the England team in general, Rob looked to his left at Phil, who was currently holding forth on why England would never again win the World Cup. Sitting around this table listening to his friends talk reminded him of wandering into a newsagent’s and taking his pick of the magazines in the ‘Men’s General Interest’ section.
    If Phil was a magazine , thought Rob, which would he be ? After a few moments’ consideration, he concluded that because Phil knew quite a lot about sport, music, fashion, entertainment, male grooming and which supermodel or actress was hot, he would be a general-interest publication like GQ or Esquire.
    He was well aware of how pointless this train of thought was, but there was no way he was going to stop now that he was on a roll. As the conversation moved on to a debate about the best B-sides ever recorded, Rob decided to work out which magazine the rest of his friends were too.
    Ian Two was sitting next to Phil. Although he worked with computers all day and sometimes all night he didn’t like talking about them unless someone else brought up the subject. Ian Two could have been a magazine like PC Monthly or Computer Shopper , but his favourite talking point was films. Most of his conversation was based around films he’d seen, films he wanted to see, films in production. So he’d have to be a worn copy of Empire or, at a push, a dumbed-down Sight and Sound.
    Darren was next to Ian. Of all Rob’s friends Darren loved music most. He had a CD collection that ran into thousands, he knew about new bands before anyone else, and he still went regularly to gigs. Darren would be a glossy music magazine like Q, or an import issue of Rolling Stone – something that knows its stuff and doesn’t mind telling you so.
    Next to Darren was Ian Two’s brother Kevin. He liked discussing politics, although he didn’t express any particular affiliation. He thought all politicians were corrupt (secretly Rob believed that Kevin wouldn’t be satisfied with any party unless he was its leader). Sometimes he sounded as if he was just to the left of Che Guevara; at others he was more akin to Margaret Thatcher (although it was unlikely that she would have punctuated every sentence with ‘innit’). As a magazine, Kevin would be a dumbed-down version of Private Eye or possibly New Statesman , but with better jokes.
    Ian One was next to Kevin, and straight away Rob thought he would be a football magazine, like The Gooner. Not that Ian was uncomfortable talking about anything else – he was reasonably good on music, films, TV and life in general – but he seemed happier with football. The minute any conversation went that way he became more animated, like he’d suddenly found his top gear.
    Finally, on Rob’s right, there was Woodsy. Rob thought long and hard, but failed to come up with a