It is true that PJ and I, for some ungodly reason both found ourselves making cakes at this late stage of the game. I am 30. He is 21. I should be having an existential crisis about my life and he should be flat on his ass drunk. Yet here we are, with measuring cups and sticks of butter.

Such it is that real life finds its way into our simian universe. Sometimes the truth hurts so much it must be boxed and panelled into comic strip form.