By Google chance, I’ve come across this micro-memoir by Laura Gascoigne:
It was a front page story about the Cambridge Rapist who had just been caught after a major manhunt… What I learned from the paper was that he was our odd-job man. Mr Cook, as we knew him, had decorated my bedroom, and a very good job he had made of it too.
More testimony to Cook’s handyman skills from another lady:
I still keep my clothes in a drawer repaired by the Cambridge Rapist, signed in chalk on the side-panel. Well, he did a lovely job on it.
Back to Laura Gascoigne:
Years later I sat next to Mick Jagger at a dinner and for some reason the subject came up. I told him Mr Cook had never laid a finger on me and he replied that it didn’t say much for my sex appeal, after which I spilt soup in his lap.
It wasn’t hot enough.