Anyone with a child or teen will know curbing their screen time is a marathon-esque feat for which you’ll never reach the finish line and most definitely not collect a medal.

In fact as adults we know how easy it is to get sucked into endless reels that risk draining your soul as much as battery life.

‘Stop watching people on the internet have fun and find some yourself’ is a sentence I’ve been known to sling at my small sofa dwellers when they’ve spent far too many minutes down the rabbit hole of screeching You Tube’ers reviewing neon-coloured American snacks or attempting to kick a football through the door of a washing machine.

However while I groan at the sights (or sound) of some over-excited influencer trying to grab the attention of tweens with their views on why American chips are superior to the Great British crisp, I perhaps like many others are growing increasingly concerned for what counts as ‘fun’ online.

I’m talking about the rise of the TikTok prankster.

Mizzy – or to give him his real name Bacari-Bronze O'Garro – is the latest to come to to the nation’s attention after receiving a two year criminal behaviour order for his video antics.

At just 18 - and no doubt spurred on by the sudden attention and vast internet fame for someone so very young – I don’t wish to delve into him specifically.

But videos like his – and thousands of others like them – suggest audiences are increasingly bored of whacky food challenges and football freestyling and creators are stepping up their prank game in response.

In fact even those capturing after-dark (and entirely illegal) entry to theme parks or leisure centres seemingly don’t cut the mustard anymore and we’ve entered a much darker realm with demand for videos that grab at public outrage or content generated by people’s genuine anger or upset.

Attention-grabbing clips which film unassuming souls – who were minding their own business - being hassled in the street, on public transport and even in their own homes.

Yes of course, at lot of what we traditionally find funny is at other people’s expense – many of us were no doubt raised on a Saturday night diet of You’ve Been Framed.

But is society now at risk of developing an unhealthy appetite for laughing at people whose clear distress has been generated entirely for the benefit of a video? Where we’re pushing the boundaries of what’s done in jest in return for likes and followers?

If my children can so very easily slip into saying ‘candy’ after gorging on one too many You Tube American food reels how can we possibly police their views towards what the internet is increasingly telling them now constitutes as funny?