Not only did the three videos go viral, they succeeded in making the roads safer too. “People have messaged me and said that it’s helped their driving and their mental state while driving, and they sometimes hear my voice in their head,” he says.

But then came the chance to go bigger. Battaliero-Owen isn’t the first comedy writer and performer to be picked up for TV after making a mark on YouTube. Adjani Salmon’s Dreaming Whilst Black started out there, as did Kayode Ewumi’s #HoodDocumentary and People Just Do Nothing forerunner WastemanTV. It’s become fertile ground for comedy producers looking for new voices to develop.

Of course, some things have been tweaked for the jump to a 30-minute TV sitcom. But its roots as a homebrewed lockdown project remain. “It was quite an, at times, difficult process to work out how to make this sort of experimental [sitcom] – and it’s remained experimental I think, to a degree, because it contains so much real life dashcam footage.”

Battaliero-Owen’s archive of dashcam footage is augmented by extra scenes from London’s streets, and there’s some actual plot in which Battaliero-Owen’s battle rap alter ego Ogmios takes a gently bizarre trip into “an alternative reality”. 

That, it turns out, includes holistic battle rapping with some hippies in a woodland glade. He hasn’t battled in five years or so, but Battaliero-Owen still misses his time on the rap battle scene. 

“One is the writing aspect, having a really specific thing to craft, writing bars that are going to deconstruct my opponent and seeing where that takes me. And then the performing aspect is really unique, because you’re usually in a pit – you have people circling you 360 degrees, and you get really specific feedback from a battle rap crowd. They really listen to what you’re saying, and if it’s good, you get positive feedback, and if it’s not you get crickets. When it goes well it’s a really amazing performing environment.”

Battle rap was another thing he stumbled onto via YouTube, and got into properly after a battle at the Fiddler’s Elbow pub in Chalk Farm. Soon he’d rechristened himself Ogmios, after chancing on the Celtic god of eloquence and persuasion in a book: “He was bald like me, so obviously I immediately identified with the bald god.” 

“It’s a really interesting sort of crucible, [as a] clash of styles and as somewhere to really test rhetorical techniques and see okay, what will be what will win out today – will it be the comedian or will it be the machine gun grime spitter?”