Welcome back to the home of the oxymoron. Evil genius. He asked the newspaper to print his obituary early so he'd enjoy it. That's like hiding at your own funeral. Yeah, a big, great gig. I'm Russell Kane. Join me to weigh in on whether the biggest players in history are more evil or genius. Becoming that rich, I'd say that is some level of genius. It also helps that it's a long time ago, right?

It's like the podcast version of telling your kids the ice cream van plays music when it's out of ice cream.

Listen to evil genius on BBC Sounds.

Now, before we start, given the nature of some of the events in this story.

I just want to check that you are the real Umberto Echo

and not a double of some kind.

I'd never be sure.

Statistically speaking, yes, I am always the same.

I think he's telling the truth.

He looks like Umberto Echo.

He sounds like Umberto Echo.

Novelist, theorist, bibliophile, donish octogenarian,

who sucks for comfort on a cigarillo that he never lights.

A passionate speaker, too, who likes to rock his chair and bang the table.

Thing is, if I was one of his characters, this would be the moment to share my suspicions.

I'd be saying, well, you never can tell, can you?

Because if there's one thing that's true of the fiction of Umberto Echo,

it's that the most outlandish ideas can acquire a life of their own.

It happened in his novel Foucault's pendulum to a group of men who invented a conspiracy theory

and began to believe it, began to be swallowed by it. It happened to the dark age detectives

of the name of the rose. Just because something isn't true when you start

doesn't mean it couldn't become true as you talk about it. That might be happening on the pages of

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