At Windsor it was the evening of the state banquet and as the president of France took his place besides Her Majesty, the royal family formed up behind and the procession slowly moved off and through into Waterloo Chamber.

“Now that I have you to myself”, said the Queen, smiling to left and right as they glided though the glittering throng, “I’ve been longing to ask you about the writer Jean Genet”.

“Ah” said the president. “Oui”.

The “Marseillaise” and the national anthem made for a pause in the proceeding, but when they had taken their seat Her Majesty turned to the president and resumed.

“Homosexual and jailbird, was he nevertheless as bad as he was painted? Or, more to the point” – and she took up her soup spoon – “was he as good?”

Unbriefed on the subject of the glabrous playwright and novelist, the president looked wildly about for his minister of culture. But she was being addressed ny the Archibishop of Canterbury.

“Jean Genet,” said the Queen again, helpfully. “Vous le connaissez?”

“Bien sûr” said the president.

“Il m’interesse”, said the Queen.

“Vraiment?” The president put down his spoon. It was going to be a long evening....