It’s been claimed you should never work with children and animals. I’m convinced that mantra should extend to eating as well. As a father of two under tens I’ve become accustomed to a meal out being punctuated by continual moans of ‘how long? I’m hungry’ until the food comes out, by which time the conversation has moved on to the equally as highbrow ‘eeurrgh! What’s that?’. Some stage between ‘I want pudding’ and ‘I’ve got chocolate sauce on my top’ you become convinced the day cannot get any worse, only for someone to present you with a small slip of paper outlining exactly how much this horr…