I was surprised to find my parents enjoying the HBO sitcom, Curb Your Enthusiasm. My dad, I think, sees himself as a sort of Larry David figure, bald and broody, albeit without a career in Hollywood, experience in stand up comedy or the hit TV show Seinfeld in his writing credits. When I left the DVD box-set of its second series at my parents place for a couple of days and returned to find it still in its case I asked whether they’d like to watch an episode. “Nah, we’ve seen it before,” my mum said.

“No, this is the second series. I haven’t seen it yet. Shall I put it on?”

“No, that’s alright. We saw it yesterday.”

“What – all of it? Back to back?”

“Yep.”

“In two days?”

“Yep.”

“There are ten episodes here,” I said, taken aback by their marathon session. “Well Dad, what did you think of it?”

Without turning to face me and with his enthusiasm clearly curbed he said, in all seriousness, “a bit repetitive.”

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