Round two, which we’re currently trying to finish, involves everyone having the name of a famous person stuck to their heads. We then have to ask questions with yes/no answers to try and work out who we are. Ali and Max dished out the names, ensuring that people would only have names on their heads of celebrities they have actually heard of, depending on where they are from. It didn’t take Freddie long to guess that he had Leonardo DiCaprio stuck on his head (it took Ali even less time to ask him if he has Leo’s number – he does, it turns out, but he’s reluctant to hand it out), and I wasn’t far behind him guessing that my forehead was graced with Beyoncé. Annie and Phillip had Britney Spears and Elton John, and Gunnar had George Clooney while Rosa had an Italian pop star I had never heard of. Everyone has guessed the names on their heads, apart from Daniel and Eva.

I look over at Ali and smile. She’s been a little cheeky with her choices for these two.

‘So I’m an American woman with brown hair,’ Eva reminds herself. ‘Not a singer or an actress. A real person… Am I an entertainer at all?’

‘No,’ Ali answers.

‘Hmm.’ She carries on thinking.

We’re all sitting around the table, waiting for Daniel and Eva to guess so that we can get on with the next game. They’re undoubtedly in last place, but too stubborn to give up. I’d say it was getting boring, were I not excited for them finding out what names are on their heads.

‘I’m an American, male actor, in my thirties,’ Daniel says. ‘I’m not in action movies, I’m not in any TV shows. I’m single… am I a sex symbol?’

‘Gosh, yes,’ Eva says.

‘You are indeed,’ Ali confirms.

‘Am I in the news?’ Eva asks.

‘You have been,’ Ali replies. ‘You were caught up in a big scandal.’

‘Oh, no, is this a politics thing?’ she asks.

‘Yes,’ Ali replies.

‘Right, well, I’ll never get it, then,’ Eva says, taking the sticker from her head and examining it. ‘Monica Lewinsky? Never heard of her.’

I laugh quietly to myself at the fact that Ali stuck the name of probably the world’s most famous side chick on Eva’s head. The reference isn’t lost on Freddie either, who gives me a covert nudge of acknowledgement.

‘You might be happy to give up, but I’m not,’ Daniel insists. He frantically itches away at his beard as he wracks his brain for answers. ‘American, thirties, actor, movies, sex symbol… Blond hair?’

‘No,’ Ali replies.

‘Brown hair?’ Daniel continues.

‘Yup,’ Freddie confirms.

A slow wave of realisation washes over Daniel, cycling him through the emotions. Confusion, disbelief, shock and finally anger, as he comes to the obvious conclusion.

‘Am I him?’ he asks, nodding towards Freddie.

‘Yey, you got it, congratulations,’ Ali says, as if she’s talking to a three-year-old who just managed to eat beans without getting any in their hair. ‘Zero points, unfortunately.’