Never have I felt more justified in my misery. A while back, you see, I had lunch with my agent. ‘So what’s your next book?’ asked he.

‘How about a socio-cultural history of the ways people have sought happiness? It’s so zeitgeisty it could make me a fortune.’

‘No way, Chris. We won’t be able to sell it.’

Oh yeah? Because here we are, a couple of years on, and what do I have in front of me? Four books being published almost simultaneously on the subject of happiness. Something tells me my take on the spiritless spirit of the age would have found an audience. I mean,