Fantasy Sunday? Get up late, breakfast of waffles with cream, maple syrup and strawberries, hot chocolate. Then – and this is going to sound antisocial – I’d play on my VR set. Couple of sports games, shoot a few people in the imaginary world. Watch a bit of football and, finally, a nice little dinner party. Fantasy dinner guests? Nelson Mandela. Marilyn Monroe. Albert Einstein. Muhammad Ali. Robin Williams. Or is that too many dead people? What would you cook? I’d go for afusion of Nigerian, Scottish and Italian. The fusion bit means I’d end up buying all the dishes in. And no coffee! I can’t have caffeine. It puts me on edge and gives me palpitations. I’m hyperactive enough as it is. Sundays growing up? I’d muck about with my friends, playing football, then come home and watch football, and then try to get out of doing homework. When I was older, I always had basketball matches on a Sunday. Family time now? Yes, with my son, Bolla, and my wife, Linda. We’ll have a play date, or I’ll take Bolla out on his bike or scooter and fly around the park like hooligans on wheels, scaring the crap out of our posh neighbours. Sunday evening? We’ll watch a box set, like Slow Horses, The Bear or Griselda. We used to play on the PlayStation, but my wife started getting too competitive, nearly beating me at the NBA game. For the sake of our marriage, we stopped playing against each other. And the next day? I don’t like Mondays. They are always too long. The only good thing about them is having a few drinks. But you can’t start off the week with two tequilas. That’s when you know your life has taken a turn.