“He was a classless human. It didn’t exist for him,” says Troelstra. “I saw pictures with him drinking champagne with our Prince Claus at that time. After that he was probably helping a junkie with something.” Jaring looked as anarchic as his subjects; and myths – most of them self perpetuated – swirled around him. He grew a flamboyant handlebar moustache to hide a scarred lip (having crashed his car while attempting to roll a cigarette at the wheel) and boasted of evenings spent dancing with Nancy Sinatra and drinking with the president of Indonesia.