(This was a thing I wrote for a thing, but the legal team wouldn’t touch it with a stick. In light of the disappearance of @PeterMolydeux, it seemed only right to put it up somewhere.)

Stepping into Peter Molyneux’s rustic home in rural Guildford, we’re immediately greeted by his wife, children, and large collection of realistic dogs. Directing me through to his private study for a chance to enjoy a pre-dinner drink, it’s amazing to see just how openly candid Molyneux is about his relationship with his wife. “I was married to someone in Slough originally” he explains, “but unfortunately she died when I stopped paying the rent.” Continuing to reminisce about his past sexual exploits whilst unfastening the catches on what appears to be an exquisite drinks cabinet, Peter admits that his previous mistakes have since taught him a valuable lesson about life: “Really it’s just a case of making sure they never meet. I’ve got another wife in Essex, and two in Birmingham – but that’s a big enough city to be sure that they won’t bump into one another.” He professes, eyeing the label of a bottle of whiskey. “That happened back in 2008, and Reginald was so furious that he simply ran away with both of the kids.”

Having moved through to the dining area, Peter suddenly realises that he hasn’t poured us a drink. Enraptured by his description of what he’d be serving for dinner, we honestly hadn’t noticed the slip-up – but he’s deeply apologetic nonetheless, and offers to whip up anything we can possibly imagine. We don’t want to make a fuss, but he’s quite insistent on making us something special. “Have you ever had a Martini that made you feel something… truly unique?” He inquires, leaning across the table with a degree of intensity we weren’t expecting. We explain that we once had one that was served with a bit of bacon instead of olives, but he shakes his head knowingly and beams an enchanting smile of simplicity. “I want to make you a Martini that will make you feel something new. Something you’ve never experienced before. /Anywhere/.” Up until this point, we would have happily settled for a decent beer – but sure, this sounds exciting. He nods, smoothly departing towards the kitchen as if gliding along invisible rails.

There’s a bit of an issue with one of the hobs in the oven, and initially it seems like dinner might be a little later than expected. We’re quite hungry by the time the food is served, and immediately tuck in to the homemade sausage and mash that Peter’s been talking about for most of the evening. The sausage meat is absolutely delicious, but it seems like we’re only able to find one on our plate – the majority of which seems to be covered in mash. Peter explains that originally he’d planned for the dish to be served with peas and gravy, but that he was nonetheless “extremely proud of what he’d been able to deliver in the time he had available.” It might not be exactly what we’d expected, but at this point we were too hungry to complain – and getting thirsty, too: We’d have to politely inform him that he promised us that Martini.

Conversation continues, and we begin to wonder when dessert is going to be served. He starts to enthuse about tomorrow night, when he’s apparently cooking dinner again for somebody else in the industry. He invites us along immediately – apologising for the lack of peas and gravy, and explaining the ways in which tomorrow’s meal would be incomparably better to the meal we’d just had. It’s getting late, and Peter explains that we’ve unfortunately run out of time for the evening – he needs to get up early tomorrow to begin preparing the ultimate version of his new signature dish. “Don’t worry - I haven’t forgotten about that drink!” he exclaims, cheerily handing me a half-empty bottle of vodka and a pint glass as I’m putting on my coat.

Musing by the roadside with our pint glass in hand, the evening overall feels like a moderate success. Things didn’t always go to plan, and we’re disappointed that there wasn’t time for dessert – but as a host, Peter was impossible to fault. Hopefully the limo he booked will arrive soon.