Why did I become a Father?

Was it to raise & nurture little humans, ensure the continuation of mankind, fulfil my parenting potential? Not entirely..

It was 99.2% to do with Toys. Yep, Toys. The colourful lumps of plastic that inhabit the likes of Smyths, Argos and until recently, Toys R Us. I figured the only way to continue being a kid when I was expected to be a grown up was to have a few kids myself who would then act as excellent cover for buying toys through my adult years.

It was in the grand scheme of amazing plans, very amazing. Did it work out as planned? Not quite.

And its all Technologies fault!

Well if you didn't know by now, I am a bit of a modern man. I parent (not babysit) the boys in partnership with the Marvellous one and as she works office hours & I work shifts, I am around for as much if not more of the mundane day to day routine than she is. 

Which sadly almost always incorporates the one thing that the children who live in my house seemingly encounter for the very first time five days a week.... The Morning routine

Some 20 years after finishing the search I never started, I have finally found my Lord & Saviour. Now before you picture me being dunked in the creek or kneeling at the altar, you need to understand this,

My God isn’t in an ancient book, he isn’t personified in a statue over Rio or even mirrored in the window of a church. My God, is more likely at the bowling alley sinking a couple of White Russians, with his buddies.

For I am a committed Dudeist! In fact I am an ordained Dudeist priest.

I’m not one to jump on the band wagon, mainly because these days there is a new one along every 90 seconds (👈scientific research)

Yet, on hearing about the indefinite cancellation of a certain daytime tv show I find myself packing clothes for all seasons & a picnic that would choke an elephant.

All aboard I’m riding this puppy for the long haul!

Being a shift worker I have, over the years, been exposed to various incarnations of what passes for daytime entertainment, who remembers Tricia? Robert Kilroy-Silk? (gotta be a made up name) & I’ll even admit to a bit of Pebble Mill in my younger days.

Then of course we had the afternoon shows, Jerry Springer, the chick from Hairspray and let’s not even get started on those Loose..... females, let’s leave it at females

But Mr Kyle & his show is an altogether different form of Television trash. The truth isn’t always kind, but the people who are paraded across that stage five days a week are specifically chosen for exploitation. Watch one clip of any episode and it’s clear the production team intentionally sources people of lower intellect & with some sort of vulnerability through addiction, abuse or learning impairment.

A middle class professional may conceivably be experiencing similar personal issues but for many reasons, most obvious, wouldn’t be willing & even welcome to submit themselves to the exposure of that stage

When the correct sort of guest is found and there seems to be a never ending pool of what can only be described as the underclass, then their weakness is flaunted on national tv, all for 22% of viewing share & advertising revenue. The majority of these clearly don’t have the I.Q to realise that the cost of their fifteen minutes of fame is the nations ridicule. Taking their appearance back home like a badge of honour.

If aliens tuned in to ITV & caught an episode what the danglies would they make of the British people? We are already a laughing stock on the political stage with our over inflated sense of World significance. We don’t need this further negative exposure

So, Mr Kyle, you had a good run, you may have been entertaining, to some & yes a couple of people may have gotten the help they needed. Most it seems got nothing more than a few minutes of ridicule, an overnight stay in a motel & a complimentary bar tab.

Any loss of life is tragic, but the end of this show will certainly be a silver lining. It’s an opportunity to find some other way to reassure us as to the state of our own lives instead of using the woes of those in society who are suffering misfortune.


Goodbye & good riddance

Last week we headed to Lanzarote in the Spanish Canary Islands for our first annual family holiday of 2019.

I say first annual holiday of 2019 as ‘The Marvelous Mummy’ has found positives in the mess that is Brexit & booked two bargain vacation deals for this year, with the second coming in July. I gave up telling her she has more holidays than Judith Chalmers, when she ruined my witty quip by claiming not to know who that is. The resulting explanation was then met with the most vacant of blank stares, which is when I invariably give up.

This week MumsNi.com published a letter I wrote to my pre parent self on what to expect with the arrival of Fatherhood.

Sitting here in sun soaked Lanzarote it got me thinking about just how different pre parenting life is. Take holidays, right now it’s just gone 11am & I’m sat on a hot concrete seat under a palm tree which is providing zero shade, surrounded by Children of several nationalities.