“After taking one or two Xanax every night for eight years, my doctor told me I had to stop,” says a middle-aged Montgomery County homemaker.

He, however, was nothing more than another red shirt. Michael still tried to imagine what was running through that kid's mind as he charged head long into the mob, his shouts of glory quickly turning to screams of terror as they ripped him apart.

Throughout the book he runs the whole gamut of emotion from ‘chuffed' to ‘gutted', while being on the whole (surprisingly, for a fabulously gifted millionaire) more gutted than chuffed, and he cheerfully confesses to a short temper.

Shameless e-begging, or a justified act of financial desperation? The idea of crowdfunding university fees will certainly divide opinion.