I’m on a weekend cooking show biting into a creamy pasta dish made by a celebrity chef. The ageing popstar to my left and the edgy comedian to my right are nodding with soft heads as they nibble the smallest portion off a morning fork. The actor with the hair forgot to tell the producers he’s a vegan so he’s pretending to eat; he’s making all the right noises. Mmmhmmm. Wow! Delish. My gob is stuffed. Spaghetti is hanging down my chin – cheese sauce is punching my moustache hairs. I want to scream from the rooftops that this meal is the best meal I have ever eaten. The rockstar in leather at the other end of the table says he can’t eat lunch in the morning and compliments the pink gin and tonic a mixologist from Shoreditch made two hours ago.

Carl Burkitt 2023