It began with the mound of dishes, festering in the sink since the morning from two sets of family meals. Hardened beans and paint-like egg yolk glued to the porcelain, the father attempting to vainly remove them with a filthy scouring pad that had long lost its intended purpose.

“Julie? Sam? Trish?” Davey frustratingly called out the names of his family, ensuing silence echoing from around the house. “Erm, anybody there? Earth calling Houston? ANYBODDYYYYYYY!?!”

“What man dad?! I’m trying to play FIFA here with the lads! It’s an important game and I have to…”

At least Sam had responded, but this proved the catalyst of the explosion.

“Sam, repeat that please” replied Davey, hands beginning to shake, eyes bulging and the first beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

“I said, I’ve got an importa…”

Sam hadn’t finished the sentence before the first dish was tossed, frisbee-like, across the kitchen. This was soon followed by the volley of mugs and cutlery, tossed like grenades around the front room as Davey - an otherwise calm and loving father - marched upstairs, donning soap sud gloves to confront the family. The chaos has just begun…