I was prepared to dislike Max Kelada before I met him. The war had just ended, and accommodation on the ship was scarce. I was relieved to have a cabin with only one other passenger, but when I learned his name, I was dismayed. His large luggage, covered in numerous labels, suggested he was a man of excess. When we met, he greeted me warmly, claiming to be English, despite his foreign appearance and accent. Prohibition was in force and the ship was dry, but he insisted we share drinks. Mr. Kelada was chatty, boastful, and familiar, using no formality despite our status as strangers. I disliked his intrusive behaviour, especially when he interrupted my game of Patience and insisted on showing me card tricks.

Mr. Kelada soon became the centre of attention. He managed activities, organised events, and knew everyone on board. Though he was the most disliked person on the ship, he was oblivious to it, always assuming others were as happy to see him as he was to see them. At mealtimes, he monopolised conversations, arguing passionately. We called him Mr. Know-All which he took as a compliment. It was an affront to his overweening vanity that you should disagree with him. He would not drop a subject, however unimportant, till he had brought you round to his way of thinking. The possibility that he could be mistaken never occurred to him. The only other person who could match his arrogance was Ramsay, and their acrimonious and interminable debates made the trip even more unbearable.