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In the 1960s, my mother recently arrived from Communist Yugoslavia, with competence in her native Croatian and English to virtually bilingual degree, was sought after by GCHQ (or its equivalent of the time) to work as an analyst. She politely declined.

In 1967, she was subjected to the most dreadful kind of electro-shock treatment, to the extent that she even lost her memories of her honeymoon in Dubrovnik from 1961.

Prior to this, in the 1950s, my father, who had lost his way at Cambridge after a brilliant start — only getting a 3rd — nevertheless was still offered a role in atomic energy or something similar. He, equally politely, decided no.

Imagine how the offspring of two such refusers would be seen by the UK establishment for the rest of their lives. It makes you think, doesn't it?

It surely does ...