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Chef discovered honey yesterday. Now all the saucepans, ladles, plates, spoons and staff are covered with the bloody stuff, and it’s my job to scrape it off and flush it down the sink. And even I have limits, let me tell you.

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I have a favorite moan where I explain at tedious length that I have a real job, here look at my hands, that’s washing-up hands for you not the damp-but-otherwise-perfect model items you see in the Fairy Liquid adverts. Peeling skin, that’s washing-up hands for you; holes the size of Ecuador in my knuckles, that’s washing-up hands for you.

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Oh yes, and if you’re the person who stuck your chewing gum to your coffee cup saucer the other day – step out the back round by the dustbins and wait for me, would you? I’ll be the one carrying the baseball bat.

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