Gilbert O’Sullivan is showing me a framed portrait of himself with Muhammad Ali, in which the young Irishman is attempting to land punches on The Greatest. It was 1973. The singer-songwriter – an accomplished schoolboy boxer until he “started getting hurt” – had successfully asked the champion heavyweight to do some publicity photos for his latest album, I’m a Writer, Not a Fighter.
“It’s funny,” he says, “but whenever anyone comes round they say, ‘We know who he is [gesturing at Ali], but who’s the other fella?”
