In my dreams of course.

Sir Alan Sugar gave me a job, not because I won the Apprentice or did a good interview. He just said, ‘You seem brainy and I do like your business suit, £4.99 from New Look was it? Oh go on then, have a job. Here’s a calculator and there’s your office, that big posh one over there with the glass table that’s on the telly.’

But in a fit of nepotistic optimism I employed 7 of my most loveable yet flakiest friends and told them to get busy using his money to create a blockbuster movie featuring a star-studded cast of slavering hyenas in suits, romping through the City of London, planning to take over Wells Fargo because they wanted the horse and carriage that stands in the foyer.

Then Sir Alan found out I’d lost him millions of pounds (because movies about slavering hyenas don’t sell). I was waiting to get hauled over the board room table and chucked to Karren Brady to get chewed alive.

But no, he merely touched me on the shoulder, smiled fondly down and, with rays of golden light shining round his head, said, ‘Be at peace, my child. We all make mistakes.’

Such a touching moment. Here he is in all his golden glory.