These are dangerous and turbulent times. At any point a man could wake up surrounded by empty bottles of Henry Weston’s Vintage Reserve (8.2%), his laptop screen as splintered and smashed as a cyclist’s leg after too close an encounter with an aggressive commuter…

Life is full of gambles, too many for even the most invested bookie to take note of. One such gamble is sending your son to excavate the bowels of an abandoned house armed only with a laptop, eight Heinekens and a handful of cleaning supplies.

You may become concerned when he doesn’t return home the next day, as arranged. You may furrow your brow as he fails to pick up his mobile. You may gasp in dismay as you return home from work to find him sitting in your living room; his hair thick with filth, stubble grown out, the wild bloodshot eyes of a distressed animal unable to meet your gaze…

You don’t ask about the trip. The bag is gone, he says, but doesn’t offer an explanation. He claims to be atheist, yet has developed the particular swagger of a man with a manifest destiny. You are old enough to know that there is nothing more dangerous than a man who truly believes God has got his back…