I feel a little queasy admitting this, given his total abjection as a public figure – his incessant attempts to whip up anti-immigrant sentiment; his conviction for assault; above all a High Court civil trial jury‘s decision that he raped Nikita Hand – but I cannot tell a lie: I am fascinated by Conor McGregor’s unique style of speaking.

There are, no doubt, readers of this column who will feel that it is harmful, or just plain wrong, to even draw attention to the man; a large part of me can’t help but agree. And yet I find myself helplessly intrigued by his bizarre style of self-presentation and rhetoric.

Take, for instance, a clip he posted to social media last week, in the aftermath of the fuel protests, and in advance of the failed no-confidence vote against the Government. In the video McGregor, wearing a tracksuit top partly open over a lavishly tattooed neck and chest, stands in front of a bare brick wall, behind him a framed poster of the Proclamation of the Irish Republic and what looks like the sort of polyester Tricolour you’d buy in Carroll’s Irish Gifts. He begins with praise of the fuel protesters and their blockade, delivered in a manner presumably intended to position him as, if not a leader (which, even for a man as deluded as McGregor, would be pushing it) then a sort of figurehead-avatar of the rising mood of anti-Government sentiment.

“Seeing the courage of our people standing together in unity against the failed rule of this Government has been incredible,” he barks, enunciating each word in his peculiarly staccato style. He refers to all manner of Government iniquities, real and perceived, from a failure to handle the cost of living and housing crises, to its “disastrous handling of immigration, that has overwhelmed our communities and services”. The Government have treated ordinary people in a “shocking........

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