Delilah: How did you celebrate this castratingly realisational passage of pointless measurement of arbitrary parameters? Did you have a snog and a whisky? Or a cabaret and a spliff? Or, dare I say it, a bottle episode?

Cecily: Bottle episode. Setting: my house. Cast: every Tinder date I’ve met over the past year. Food: fromage. Ending: catastrophic, as preordained.