Seven years ago Kevin Pietersen produced his first attempt at autobiography, Crossing the Boundary: The Early Years in My Cricketing Life. Atrociously written, it demonstrated no awareness of the world outside himself. This time round Mr Pietersen has taken the precaution of hiring an excellent ghost writer, David Walsh of the Sunday Times. It is hard to overpraise Mr Walsh’s vivid prose. The book is a brilliant portrayal of Pietersen as a misunderstood genius continually brought down by lesser men: a Mozart beset by a sequence of Salieris.

[audioplayer src="http://traffic.libsyn.com/spectator/TheViewFrom22_9_Oct_2014_v4.mp3" title="Justin Marozzi and Caroline Kisko, Kennel Club Secretary, discuss vicious dogs" startat=1287] Listen [/audioplayer]It happened so quickly, as these things always do. My wife Julia and I were pootling about on Wells beach with our fluffy mongrel Maisie when suddenly two fighting dogs, English bull terriers, came flying towards us like calf-high missiles.

Most people manage to hide from their own failure, so pity the poor fund manager, whose every wild blast is measured in unforgiving performance numbers. Between 70 and 80 per cent of fund managers have underperformed a passive index over the past five years, a ratio known as the slaughtered three quarters. Fund managers are exposed by two things — their performance is quantified on a daily basis and there is a non-human alternative to compare them against.

Have a read of the following list and see if you can guess its significance: lubricants, iron ore, steel, oil, pharmaceuticals, ships, telecoms, food packaging, oil, property. With the exception of telecoms and property, and perhaps pharmaceuticals, are they just boring, old, dirty industries which are part of Britain’s industrial heritage but play a declining part in our dynamic, 21st-century service-based economy? In fact they are, in order, the principal business interests of the British residents who occupied the top ten places in this year’s Sunday Times Rich List.

Napoleon’s birthplace, Casa Buona-parte, in Ajaccio, Corsica’s capital, is pretty grand. It has high ceilings, generous, silk-lined rooms and a gallery that could double as a mini-ballroom. The house fits Napoleon’s upper-middle-class roots, as the son of a lawyer and Corsica’s representative to the court of Louis XVI. But the odd thing is, the home town of the world’s most famous Frenchman doesn’t feel very French. Corsica is only 14 miles from Sardinia — and 110 miles from the Côte d’Azur.