'I'm a bit tired of being famous,' he sighed, over an after-school apple at the kitchen table.
'I had someone ask me for my autograph today.'
'Well, they came up and told me they'd seen me in the paper. And I said,do you want my autograph? And they said yes. I was joking, but they were serious. I signed their hand with my pen.'
I try not to laugh.
'And people keep on coming up and telling me they've seen me in the paper. Some of them have even done it twice. And I'm like, I know!'
'Do you say that?'
'No. I think it.'
'I'm getting a bit sick of it.'
There is a moment's silence.
'I'm sorry,' I say. 'I tell you what, if the chance ever comes up again for you to be in the paper, I'll say no.'
'So, you'd WANT to be in the paper?'
'Well,' I say. 'I guess that's the price of fame. If you're in the paper, people will come up and tell you they've seen you. You can't switch it off when you want to. You either want the attention, or you don't. It's up to you.'
'I'll be in the paper. Definitely.'