I asked him about every sex scene he has ever done, ever. When I sensed a pause, I pressed on for more scintillating details. To think of this timeless, classic painting of a man engaged in such torrid acts. We sat for a moment in what I perceived as a hugely comfortable silence as I realised through my extensive knowledge of Hammersmith, for example the fact that it is bordered by Shepherd’s Bush to the north, that we are connected in a way that those with lesser knowledge will never be. For a moment I pitied them. Cumberbatch was thinking of something, tea or whatever it is London likes, and I was thinking of something else entirely. He stood up to say goodbye and turned away from me. A classic, elegant beauty. A relic from a time I miss dearly. I asked the waitress for the bill by saying “hey sweet-cheeks, can I get the bill?” before giving a playful wink, and she frowned at me. Several people in the restaurant told me to fuck off. I longed even harder for those simpler times.