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‘Okay, fine, I am,’ Eddy says, but Jamie doesn’t like that.

‘It’s probably me, to be fair…’

‘You’re the most competitive about being competitive,’ I point out.

After each throw, the balls roll down the ramp towards them. They begin shooting faster, Jamie using quick, controlled throws while Eddy seems to barely move his arms before each ball sails through.

‘Who takes a loss worse?’ I ask.

‘Jamie,’ Eddy says.

‘Eddy,’ Jamie answers at the same time.

‘Didn’t you cry when you lost against Wakey?’ Eddy checks.

Jamie misses a shot.

He glances sideways at Eddy before the next one goes in with considerably more force.

The buzzer sounds – Eddy has won by one point.

Neither of them acknowledges this, of course, because that might confirm who is the most competitive or who is the worst loser.

Next is air hockey, which seems like a safe choice because at least they’ll be at opposite ends of the table.

They both crouch over the table, their eyes fixed on the puck as it snaps from one side to the other with more force than is needed. Every time Jamie scores, he celebrates as though he has just won the Grand Final. Every time Eddy scores, he barely reacts, which somehow feels much more intimidating.

I stand at the side of the table with my list of questions.

‘Who would make the better England captain?’ I ask.

‘Me,’ Jamie says, without taking his eyes off the game.

Eddy blocks his shot. ‘You?’

‘I’m a natural leader,’ Jamie insists.

Eddy laughs, but only for a second, because Jamie scores, levelling the game.

He points at Eddy with his striker. ‘Not so good at this, are you, mate?’ he taunts him.

It only gets worse from there, to be honest with you.

They race motorbikes next, sitting on stationary plastic bikes, leaning so aggressively into the corners that I’m worried one of them is going to actually break the machine.

Jamie wins that one too and celebrates by standing on the footrests with both arms raised.

They compete at a claw machine, which is funny, because everyone knows they’re rigged, right? And yet they both believe they’re the one with the skills to win a stuffed Pikachu.

‘Is it cheating if I shoulder-barge it?’ Jamie asks me.

‘It’s cheating, and it will probably get us thrown out,’ I reply. ‘So try not to.’

‘You need to learn when to be gentle,’ Eddy tells him, concentrating harder than the game requires.

But then he does it, he wins a Pikachu, which he proudly gives to me after removing it from the machine.

‘And that’s how it’s done,’ he announces.