I’ve said some dreadful things over the years.

Forgive an old fool.

If you go through with this, I’m in your corner. For eight years I had poured their wine and absorbed their little insults, and not one of them had ever rushed to check on me.

Tonight, after watching me lay their golden boy bare with a stack of paper, they’d suddenly recalculated that I was worth placating.

I answered none of them.

I wrote one email to my attorney, Marlon Aldercott: It’s done.