With spectacularly bad timing, I switched my energy supplier to E.ON a matter of days before one of their executives boasted that a harsh winter would mean “more money for us”.

The context of this wildly offensive comment by “power trader” Mark Owen-Lloyd is still being investigated by the company (unless they just said that a couple of weeks ago in the hope that the bad publicity would die down. It hasn’t).

His throwaway comment was supposedly made in jest – they like a laugh, these power traders – but it seems E.ON’s panicked public relations department has failed to see the funny side. Along with everyone in the country who uses gas or electricity.

I guess this sort of thing might pass for a sense of humour if you mix in circles where people have job titles like power trader but I suspect Mark Owen-Lloyd might be on shaky ground at an open-mic comedy night.

Or even on Britain’s Got Talent.

Maybe you had to be there. It’s all in the timing when you’re cracking edgy jokes about fuel poverty.

Because the so-called “free market” for energy makes changing suppliers marginally more traumatic than moving house, I’m basically resigned to my hard-earned cash going to people like Mark Owen-Lloyd. And, indeed, to Mark Owen-Lloyd himself.

Every time I switch on a light, I picture this man enjoying another glass of Champagne with his power trader mates, possibly on a yacht (he must have a yacht. And I bet he orders Champagne in pubs).

I don’t even know what Mark Owen-Lloyd looks like, I’ve simply built up a detailed psychological profile.

I’m like Cracker, except I specialise in energy company executives instead of serial killers.

The upside of all this is that Mark Owen-Lloyd has turned me into a rabid, energy-saving crusader.

I happily walk around the house in pitch dark at any available opportunity and use candles instead of proper lights, even when I’m using lethally-sharp kitchen knives.

It’s like starring in a one-man play about the Winter of Discontent.

If I keep this up for several months, I figure that Mark Owen-Lloyd could be down by a good few pounds.

One less set of personalised cufflinks for him, one small and pathetic victory for me.