It was 8.30 in the morning when Chaddha ji rang my doorbell. Now, I’m not exactly anti-social but getting woken up on a Sunday morning by the most eccentric neighbour in the world is not my idea of fun.‘Are you alright?’ I asked him, noticing the expression on his face. ‘After today, it’s either she or me,’ he said, and I instantly knew I was to become an unwilling mediator to another domestic war between Chaddha ji and his better half. I must be drunk or drugged the day I offered to counsel them about their fights. Because trying to mediate between them is still okay, but listening to Chaddha ji go on a tangent every two minutes is stuff that ought to fetch a Nobel.