With the leadership of Leicester City Council up for grabs, I’ve been doing my best to catch up with the runners and riders and I’ve had coffee with three of the contenders so far.

One meet-up went a bit pear-shaped. A day earlier we’d struck upon a time to meet up. I was bang on time, as ever, and ordered a latte with an extra shot of espresso and waited. And waited. And waited. I had an Americano to pass the time. Then a double espresso.

I left a stern voicemail on their phone: “You’re half an hour late. If you’re not here in five minutes I’m off.”

As I got up to leave the politico called me back. “I missed your call, what’s up? Do you want to meet up early or something. I’m due in half an hour.” I checked my notebook. I wasn’t bang on time, I was a whole hour early.

But, by the time they arrived it was no use. I was almost incapable due to the caffeine overload. I was shuffling about in my chair, gnawing on a giant cookie and scratching at the walls like an addict without his fix. My shorthand notes looked like earthquake tremor lines, my brow was damp, and I had a pounding headache.

Lesson learned for the future. Stick to decaff.