A comedy master class

This evening - at the dinner table. Tom, not overly impressed with the meal presented to him, is playing around and resisting all attempts to persuade him to eat.

Nik is doing faux-grumpy... which may actually be edging into genuine frustration with his stalling tactics.

'Tom... you're making mummy cross now. Are you going to eat your dinner?'

'At school Joe eats outside... in the drain'

... mustn't look up... mustn't make eye contact...

'If you don't eat some more potato, there will be no pudding Tom...'

'Harrison... wears girl's shoes'

Must... resist.... must not laugh...

We eventually leave him to it and retire to the kitchen. I threaten to eat the jelly and Tom stuffs his mouth full of everything left on the plate and appears in the kitchen to recover his dessert - without his trousers.

He returns to the table, smiling. Plotting.

We wash up. I can hear the telltale beeping of disconnected implants.

Tom has strapped himself into his booster cushion. Naked.

'I've taken my clothes off!'

I give up and we guffaw the evening away.