So a couple of weeks ago at work, the word came, “There’s an iguana downstairs”.

We rushed down to see it and there is was, a dragonish monster that had  trapped a member of staff in a passageway.

My colleague, Maria, who is from an area of Colombia where iguanas are more common, took a broom, encouraged it along the corridor and off it skeddadled in a great, anxious patter of its webbed feet.

Instead of going out the wide-open doorway, it managed to get behind the wrought-iron gates, but undeterred, it wriggled through an impossibly small space, and went on its way, presumably not rejoicing.