My phone. The answer is that I’m reading my phone. I suddenly come to, the way I’d wake up at the wheel on a lonely country road, back in the days before Stop Revive Survive. Shit, was I just asleep? And now it’s Shit, am I reading my phone again? Didn’t I just swear off this about one minute ago?

On the phone, starving polar bears are attacking human beings on remote Russian islands, the total biomass of insects is plunging, a million fish are dead, floating on a stretch of hypoxic water near Menindee. My Twitter echo chamber is a cacophony of angry voices with the odd bit of shrieking laughter and, thankfully, parrots. On Facebook, a man from Carnarvon, the remote Western Australian town where I grew up, tells me: ‘Climate change is a hoax, spread by Al Gore travelling the world charging people a fortune to listen to his made up stories. He has become a very rich man spreading the lies.’ At this point I abandon the argument that has broken out in the comments below a post about the death of sea grass at Shark Bay. I’m too sad.