Recklessly - and, as he repeatedly reminded me, against the wishes of both his agent and publisher - he agreed to the interview without question or reservation. It was only after he had invited me to Mallorca, where he has rented a villa while he writes a new collection of short stories, that I assured him that I had no preconception about the profile's conclusions. What he put in would determine what came out. I was interested in what makes Archer tick - though "tick" is too diminutive a metaphor to represent the irrepressible energy that has driven him on over the years.

At least, that was my idea of Archer. I barely knew him. We had met some years ago on Radio 4's Any Questions? During the supper before the show, he had complained, perhaps resentfully but certainly erroneously, that I had made two appearances on Desert Island Discs, one as a politician and one as a writer. And he had stopped me during the 1983 election to say that the Tories were wasting their time in chasing the ethnic vote. From afar, I had come to a firm conclusion about Archer the politician. The word does not really apply to him in any real sense. He enjoyed the razzmatazz, gloried in the glamour and loved being near the centre of power. But belief? At best it was thick-skin-deep.

I told him that the profile would inevitably deal with painful subjects. He agreed - adding that being a privy councillor, I could be trusted! He agreed again (with the tape recorder running) on the veranda of Son Mayol among the almond trees in the hills above Palma. The house is best described by reference to an earlier guest: there was a photograph of Joan Collins on the sideboard.

Our talk began with discussion of his Oxford teaching diploma, his athletic prowess and his first great charity concert: the Beatles performing for Oxfam. Then we moved on to his appointment as fundraiser for the United Nations Association (UNA) - the sort of question that he must have anticipated. Humphry Berkeley, the UNA chairman and sometime Tory MP, accused Archer of misappropriating his expenses. Indeed, he had suggested that the Louth by-election, in which Archer was the Conservative candidate, should be postponed until the mystery of the missing money had been solved. Archer sued, but withdrew from the case just before it reached court and, astonishingly, paid Berkeley's costs. The part of our conversation that dealt with Archer's capitulation prejudiced the rest of the interview. It deserves to be quoted verbatim:

"We remained friends to the end."

"But there was a controversy… "

"Yes. Yes. But that went away and we remained friends."

"Even though money… "

"Well, I don't think that there was any suggestion, or ever has been in my life, of financial impropriety."

There is a variety of ways of describing the claim that nobody has ever even suggested that Archer has been guilty of financial impropriety. One is audacious. Another is crazy. Yet he is not a stupid man and, in his more rational moments, must realise that making such a preposterous claim can only do further damage to his reputation. From then on, it was hard to take anything he said at face value. But the strength of his personality and his determined charm made me want to believe him.

"But didn't you pay his costs after he'd sued you?"

"I don't remember. It's a long time ago."