—Thirty-five years?

—That’s right.

—And has he been in hospital before?

—Oh God no, no no. Never before, doctor. I wouldn’t let them near him.

—And what was it that made you bring him up today?

—Oh he’s taken very bad doctor.

—How has he taken bad?

—The things he’s doing.

—What’s he doing?

—I’d rather not say.

—OK. What’s he doing that he doesn’t usually do?

—He’s not speaking sense doctor. He hasn’t said a proper word, just old gabble.

—How long is it since he spoke?

—Ah it must be going on four months.

—Four months?

—Whatever you gave him before when he was here with ye stopped him speaking.

—So he has been in hospital before?

—Oh he has, but it wasn’t me who put him there. Only for what he done I never would have brought him today.

—Who was it brought him in the last time?

—I forget now. One of the shops, the security, and in London he was never outta the hospital. He’s much worse doctor, much worse this time.

—How has he deteriorated?

—I’d rather not say, but he poured the kettle all over his trousers. He probably wanted to get a stain out of the trousers, she adds as an afterthought.

But the doctor isn’t listening.

—So you witnessed it?

The doctor exits the least comprehensive interview with a family member of his career and nods to another.

—Nothing doing, he says. We’ll have to have his hearing tested to rule out mutism.