If Ready Player One is a poor man’s Oscar Wao, then my novel was a dead man’s Tron. It didn’t explicitly take place inside a simulation, but there were enough references to an off-brand Dwarf Fortress to suggest that this was the case. It was set in a city called Londerground. There was a whole character based on the creator of Space Funeral. He lived on a barge and was mentally ill. The woman who talks on the tube (you know, the lady who says: “The next stop is Covent Garden”) was a dictator. I’m not apologising. I never apologise. I’m just purging this from my body.

Okay, I’m sorry.