One of the constant dangers of jungle exploration is the possibility that at any moment, you could come across a small clearing occupied by tribal natives doing some kind of fearsome war dance...

I think this is why UKIP are so worried about Bongo Bongo Land. That, and the possibility that cannibals might be gay.

In reality, of course, that's not a jungle. Although there is a monkey in the background. It's actually what passes for a extensive rear garden in Brighton, and belongs to our good friends Stefan & Andrew.

I like to think of Stefan as the Marie Antoinette of Sussex, partly because he's lived through a revolution, but mainly because he lets us eat cake. And yesterday was no exception. We arrived at their flat (an hour late, obviously) to be greeted with this...

To be honest, the word 'cake' doesn't do it justice. That visual (and actual) feast was a triple-deckered orgasmic taste sensation of coffee, chocolate and cream, featuring one of your five-a-day in fruit, and a thousand of your forty-a-day in Weight Watchers points, and was possibly the finest dessert I've ever tasted. I say 'was' because I've eaten most of it already. Stefan made it for us to say thank you for something or other, but I was too busy stuffing my face to listen.

Obviously when you're presented with the world's best tasting cake, you don't want the children around, so we sent them both out to the drawing room...

That's Toby using a green crayon to colour a duck. So I suspect it's a toilet duck. There's also a copy of 'Home' magazine on the left, which in this issue features an article naming blue tablecloths decorated with strawberries as this season's must-have home furnishing essential.

Anyhoo, the tragedy of having kids is that sooner or later you have to let them share your food. So despite seeing no reason why I shouldn't eat that entire cake myself, I eventually gave in to the plaintive looks on my children's faces (they were peering through the cat-flap), and agreed to let them try it. Needless to say, they were quite happy...

... although I was shedding a tear as the cake disappeared before my eyes...

I was hoping it might attract a wasp, and I could clear up the leftovers as they fled the scene in terror, but sadly I had no such luck.

We did, however, have a very nice afternoon. Admittedly, I didn't see much of my family, as Andrew and I slipped off into the bedroom for an hour so that I could fiddle with his laptop, but let's face it, I'm sure Lisa and Stefan were having fun in the living room. I certainly heard a few screams of pleasure. Although I think that was Toby playing with the cat toys.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and as early evening approached, I was forced to tell the kids that we had to go...

I think they took it well. Of course, we still had to get the rest of that cake home in one piece, and with Stefan & Andrew right out of giant cake boxes, I gave it to Lisa to hold in the car. Obviously I was hoping for something like this...


... but despite a near miss as I slammed on the brakes at the bottom of Manor Hill, she managed to hang on to both the cake and what remained of her dignity (she'd already lost half of both), and made it back to our flat safely. It's typical. Ask her to walk across an empty floor in flat shoes, and she'll hit the deck like there's an earthquake in Banana Skin Land, but give her a cream cake on a shiny tray in a fast-moving vehicle and you can't shake the thing out of her hands. She clearly valued it more than her own life.