Monday, January 21, 2008


It was a perfect evening for a BBQ – the sun had gone down sufficiently, and the slight breeze meant we didn't cook like the sizzling main course. The children, aged six and up, were sitting alone, disconsolately, clearly forbidden to retire to their rooms and Playstations as they would much rather do, but had to remain on display. Wine on an empty stomach had made me unexpectedly charitable, and I wandered over to the table where they were seated.

"Hello!" I said cheerily, sitting down.
"You're dumb," shouted Six.
"Oh, I say, that’s not very nice," I said, "People need to know me for at least an hour before they can say that."
The others giggled, but Six (after thumping his sister for her mirth) continued, unabated.
"You're so dumb, you probably think one plus one equals a thousand."
Regrettably, there were adults within earshot, so I had to bite my tongue and refrain from ripping his out, but I have a special form of torture I reserve for small boys.

"I farted," he shouted, waving the thus polluted air towards me.
"I do so love rude boys who fart. And the more they talk, especially with their mouths full," (his was stuffed with semi-digested chicken throughout the exchange) "the more I want to kiss them." I leaned forward, lips puckered.

He screamed in anguish, chicken falling from his mouth, and ran off.

The other children turned out to be quite pleasant (despite their appalling table manners. It appeared that they have never been properly introduced to Mr Knife and Mrs Fork). Six returned later. He threw a wine cork at me which bounced off my head. His grandmother, who had minced around Six all evening bringing him special plates of food, wrung her hands apologetically. "Six! Be nice!" she wailed.

I wish I could say that this semi-feral species of the urban child is rare, but indeed, their population seems to be increasing. Thus, any school-leavers wondering which field to study at university, might be strongly advised to pursue psychiatry. I think this may be a booming industry in the next decade.


Mark said...

We're so fucked if this is the up-and-coming generation.

Whatever happened to nailing their feet to the cellar floor when they misbehave? is that now passe?

george said...

An equally promising career would be with the Police Force. There is so much scope for arresting people like me who completely ignore the rules laid down like a turd by that Sue Bradford harpie. I backhand obnoxious little bastards like Six. I also argue with their ineffectual sorry excuses for parents, on their own territory.

With people like me, the police promotions path should be wide open.

unPC lesbian said...

My children may be feral at times but by god they have good table manners, including using all eating tools correctly, the correct way to lay up for multi course meals, and correct placement of all glassware.

Yay for a week in Oz where the anti smacking law is non palms are red and raw for overuse!!!

Mrs Smith said...

Does pinching count as smacking? In the past, I found that was v. effective on children. Also, Six thumped his sister multiple times, should I have called the police? This new law is so confusing.

Anonymous said...

Never had to smack our two year old. The naughty step works well, especially as its at the bottom of the pool.
Mrs Smith, take six along to the Police Station and let them give him a fright.They'll probably go along. Or drop him off at Sue Bradfords place. That would scare anyone straight.