McConnell, 32, started taking testosterone at 25 and had “top surgery” to remove breast tissue a year later. He considered a hysterectomy, but never went through with it – partly because he had not ruled out the possibility of having children. In the film, we see how discombobulated McConnell becomes when he stops taking testosterone as he tries to conceive, using a sperm donor, and his body, in effect, goes into reverse. He starts having periods again (“I don’t like the idea that I’ve got tampons in my bag,” he winces); his facial hair gets wispier, his hips broaden, his tummy softens and he starts to speak less from his chest and more from his throat. “Every time I think about it, I think, ‘What the fuck am I doing?’” he says. At one point, a tearful McConnell sobs into the camera in the middle of the night: “I feel like a fucking alien.”

Throughout, he is encouraged by his mother, Esme, who tells him: “I loved being pregnant. Everybody should experience it – especially men.” McConnell tells me she used to say this to him when he was a child, long before she had any idea that her son was trans. On screen, his mother supports him with a mixture of tender loving care and the odd no-nonsense kick up the arse. Occasionally, when he’s feeling sorry for himself, she loses patience: “Why are you making such a fuss? It’s what you wanted.” Then she relents. “But, actually, it’s not as simple as that. It’s such a brave and amazing thing to do. I’m in awe of him, basically.”