We’re all punters, we’ve all experienced a heated two minutes that have cost us a small fortune.

The stumble to the cashpoint machine, and the drunken lurch back to the casino to dump it all on black. Then the horrible realisation the following morning as you turn your trousers upside down in desperate search of coinage that you’ve done a monkey at least. In such times of torture I turn to one person for comfort – Boris Becker.

No two minutes have ever been more costly than the two Bonking Boris enjoyed with a perfect stranger in a broom cupboard in a London restaurant.