It is unkind to laugh at the misfortunes of others, but sometimes a proper belly laugh is the only response. The rich contribution to summer’s lease? Andrew Tate’s prison diaries.

In which the self-described pimp, alleged rapist and man accused of facilitating human trafficking discovers an urgent interest in human rights, while fighting extradition to the UK from a US federal prison.

In which “Top G” bleats about a broken water tap and stomach problems, or the lack of nail clippers or a pillow, and complains that he and his brother Tristan aren’t allowed speak to their mom. In which a ghost in his prison cell is sufficiently terrified to beg Tate not to annihilate him.

In which the same annihilator starts finding it “eerily quiet” up there in his special housing unit because – woah – there are suddenly fewer officers on his wing and he wants followers to know that he would never kill himself. In which he reassures imaginary crowds holding signs outside that he “can feel every word”. In which his “heart breaks” as a “political prisoner for a foreign state, in an American jail”. But also – separately – that “JAIL IS FOR POOR PEOPLE”.

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In short, a few weeks in jail have crushed the bully who once preached that........

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