But, Vardy argues, it is also a “high control”, male-dominated hierarchy which deals harshly with members caught drinking, smoking or sexting, but which has been repeatedly criticised for its handling of child abuse cases. Most people, she acknowledges, think of the sect as geeky door-knockers who want to tell you about Jesus: the show’s director even illustrates the point with a clip from sitcom Black Books. “We were told we wouldn’t get blood transfusions if we got sick.” “We didn’t celebrate birthdays or Christmas,” she says. The church’s beliefs set her apart from her peers at school. Her grandfather was a church elder, and her Norwich family were among the 130,000 true believers in the UK (it’s 8 million worldwide) who believe that only they will be saved from the imminent Armageddon. “But I spent 15 years as a Jehovah’s Witness.” “Most people know me as the wife of a Premier League footballer or as a more controversial person from ‘that’ trial,” Vardy, 41, intones smoothly as the camera takes in her plumped lips, glossy chocolate hair and tastefully expensive beige coat. And – whisper it – she’s really not bad at it. But this is an honest investigation into a subject Vardy knows and feels deeply about.

A cynic might suggest this was a bid to repair her public image, and fund some of the estimated £2m in costs she was ordered to pay Rooney. Now Vardy has repositioned herself yet again, fronting up a Channel 4 documentary about the harm caused to herself and others – including the hushing up of child sexual abuse, she alleges – by the faith to which she once belonged. She’s been a football WAG, a reality TV show contestant, a pop culture icon (after her Instagram account was cited by Coleen Rooney as the source of media leaks about her in the “ Wagatha Christie” affair), a hate figure and an unsuccessful libel litigant.

Let no one doubt the endless capacity for reinvention of Rebekah Vardy.

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