Which is how I come to be standing in Park Lane on a sunny day, wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket two sizes too small, in front of two gleaming Harley Davidson motorbikes. My driver is a stubbly, pleasant chap called Steve who seems to be wearing a leather cap, jacket, and black leather chaps. I hum the Blue Oyster Bar music from the Police Academy films very quietly, since Steve strikes me as the sort of guy who might resent being waltzed round the room by another moustachioed biker.