My latest assignment - broaching the threshold of Katie Price's new "mucky mansion" - could have topped them all.
There's another small creature curled up asleep in his bed - their new nine week old cocker spaniel, puppy, Rookie - "the family were all on at me to get another dog," she explains, nonchalantly, as if five bald cats and three panting dogs is perfectly normal.
At the point her son Harvey wanders in to say hello - loyal mum Katie earlier had to hide some carrot cake in the microwave to stop him eating it; the 22-year-old battles crippling Prader-Willi syndrome, leaving him constantly hungry.
Katie Price has, as she says, done a lot of growing up- and thinking - over the past couple of years.
Two small, black Chihuahuas, Captain and Batman, are wagging their tails in excitement as I give Katie some flowers and her sister, Sophie, a chocolate babka cake.
