It may be over-simplifying matters to say that it began at the precise moment that Elvis and Kojak stole the pig.
But it had to start somewhere, so this is probably as good a place as any to begin the story.
Besides, it was like a jigsaw puzzle with only one piece, to which others would attach themselves over time.
And, in any case, it wasn’t just any pig.
It was a pig that had been spit-roasted almost to the point of perfection – a pig that was about to be consumed by a gathering representative of the wealthiest, the most powerful and – with a few exceptions – the most corrupt residents of the Costa Del Sol.
And it was also a pig – although Elvis and Kojak were ignorant of this fact at the time – that belonged to the host, Alexei Nikolaev, the godfather of the Andalucían Bratva.
Nikolaev is one of most evil bastards I have ever come across and also a good friend of mine. He is certainly someone from whom one should not steal a pig, particularly at his daughter’s wedding.