Few grounds in the battle over the meaning of truth are as hotly contested as the edit wars which people wage on Wikipedia’s biographies of living people. As you’d expect, the edit histories of polarising figures like Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton are an eternal clustershag of counterclaims and counter-counterclaims, but almost every sufficiently famous public figure has their detractors, no matter how benign they seem.

Even those rare ones who somehow manage to avoid upsetting anyone still attract vandals trying to insert whimsical libel into their articles for the lulz (who could remember the laughs we had way back in 2006 when someone asserted David Beckham was Chinese?), while there are dozens of examples of lies plucked unknowingly from the site being reported as fact in the newspapers, which is a battle without end in itself for libel lawyers.

However, at the other end of the endless struggle waged by keyboard warriors to prove that popular celebrities are all ultimately problematic, there’s the fight fought by the marginally famous for recognition and notability. Who decides who is famous enough for their own entry on the encyclopedia of everything? It’s inevitably a matter of degrees, of lines drawn in the sand. But where do we draw them?