Metro 147


This week I read the news and thought, “What kind of person would bring a child into a world like this?” Then I remembered that I am about to do, so I had answered my own question. An idiot. Becoming a parent is like being a politician, anyone who wants to do it should be automatically banned.

We’re now just three weeks from the due date. Though it’s worth remembering that babies are unreliable idiots and there’s every chance that it will turn up unexpectedly early or take its sweet time and decide to stay in there until 2016. I’d be happy with that, as we’d get into the Guinness Book of Records, but my wife doesn’t seem too thrilled with the idea for some reason. If I was in the womb I would refuse to come out until my list of demands had been met. Though they could probably tempt me out with a trail of biscuits.

It still doesn’t feel real that in a month I will be responsible for some useless little idiot who can’t talk, walk or go to the toilet properly, but every now and again I experience a moment of clarity about it and (ironically enough) almost shit myself. I was reading one of my wife’s ten million baby books today (that in spite of being all about the same relatively simple subject manage to give out exactly ten million different versions of what you have to do). I don’t remember what this book is called, but it’s got a baby on the front cover so you’ll probably be able to find it. It takes you through the baby’s life week by week, with simple instructions of what you can expect and what you have to do.  And for a second I did sit up and think, “Oh, Ok, so this is really happening isn’t it?” Before remembering that books aren’t real. They are just made up stories.

Oh right, so a tiny human is going to come out of my wife’s vagina is it? Out of all the places it could emerge. It sounds like something dreamt up by Pauly Shore. What’s coming out of there next? A bunch of flowers? A hat stand?

Anyway, I am quietly petrified, but pretending to stay strong for the sake of my wife. I have done the tricky part of making a baby, but apparently giving birth can sometimes take 15 to 20 minutes and sting a bit (I sort of skimmed that part of the book as it doesn’t really involve me).  I will follow Robbie Williams’ lead and sing some songs and make some YouTube videos to keep my wife entertained. I am keen to podcast the whole thing.


I am half-joking. But when my mum gave birth to my brother at home in the early 60s, she, her mum and the midwife  were upstairs in the bedroom whilst my dad and grandad were downstairs listening to the cricket on the radio. My mum, for some reason, was making a lot of noise, and the midwife said, “Keep it down, love. Think of your menfolk”. How things have changed. The sooner UKIP gets in and sets the clock back the better, right?


I’m delighted to see there’s a third installment of Taken coming out. They’re certainly not stretching that idea to its limits. I hear they are working on a fourth Taken film where Neeson has his urine sample stolen for a hospital and has to track it down so he can get his test results back. It’s called Taken: The Piss.