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Well, it had to happen, didn’t it? Emma and I enjoy the juniper-flavoured spirit, and the sparkling mixer with a touch of quinine so much that they’re now selling it as Alfie. It’s a great leg-opener, as they say in the trade. But despite the convenience of these cans, I won’t be drinking it ready mixed except on the occasional picnic. It’s a fact that alcohol gives men the inclination while taking away the ability. So I like to start the evening with a G and T and add further tonics all evening until my drink is as dilute as a homeopathic remedy for gout. By the end of the evening, Emma will have had four or five G and Ts and be eager to get her knickers off, and I will have had one G and umpteen Ts and be ready and able to take advantage. It’s a convenient arrangement and the deception is minimal. It has the added advantage that, with so much quinine inside us, we need not fear the tsetse fly. [Which reminds me, Emma insists that the Indian tonic water has rid her of night-cramps.]