How does Sunday start? With a little lie-in, but I have six children so there’s lots of dad-taxiing going on first thing. We’re pretty lazy. Whoever’s around will pop to Yardbird – the café in our village – for brunch. While on tour, family Sundays become precious – I always rush home on Saturday night. Do you work? I present a Sunday morning radio show. Before Covid that was always done live from a studio. Since the pandemic I’ve been pre-recording it from home. The bosses haven’t clocked that I’m still not coming in to do it. I’m keeping my head down and hoping nobody notices. A day to yourself? I’d see mates. Then go to a pub quiz with my brother, mum and dad. Dad does general knowledge, Mum’s on medicine, my brother and I do sports and entertainment. We’re a good team. Sundays growing up? We were playing out from 10 in the morning, kicking a ball about on the field. I’d come back starving and my parents would force-feed me Sunday dinner. I hated the vegetables, but if you didn’t eat your whole dinner you’d have to have the leftovers for breakfast. Plenty of nights I went to bed with cabbage squished into my pockets and tears in my eyes. A special Sunday? Presenting Sunday Night at the Palladium – in my business that’s the FA Cup Final. I flew home halfway through my honeymoon in the Maldives to make the gig. The comic entertainers of the 1960s and 1970s who hosted it are my heroes. To be on that stage, opening the show with a musical number? A dream. Sunday evening? Preparation for the week ahead starts early: bag packing, homework checking, hair washing. Everything is a military operation. Often I’m in bed before our eldest these days, watching stupid TikTok videos before I fall asleep.