In the space of three pages, he is described as “impossibly handsome and arrogant”, “breathtaking” and the possessor of “arrogant beauty”, with “slicked-back blond hair” and even “a wonderful forehead”. In a book that doesn’t shy away from repetition, Cooper’s attempts to emphasise that Rupert is “still Nirvana for most women” are exhaustingly dogged. The wheezing roué? The lunging reptile? Forget it. So what’s new? Although Rupert is pushing 60, and he isn’t show-jumping anymore, those wild nights in the Eighties haven’t caught up with him – at all.
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