School Gate Politics

I've not been able to get much writing done this week as every time I return home from work, I find a house full of other people's children. It's like gatecrashing a party full of drunk dwarves and, ironically, that would've been the dream when I was younger.

After we'd removed the hoardes and the spagetti hoops from the walls, we had to attend Kid A's school for an open evening. While there, I learned that carrying a month old baby in a sling is like spanish fly. I was beating women off with a stick. Why did I take the Better Half with me?

Also, I was reminded of the greatest piece of one-upmanship ever. Kid A's class has a stuffed toy called Freddie Frog and he goes home with each child for a few days (It probably leaves the school less open to litigation than if it was a real animal). Freddie Frog has a diary in which the children write of his adventures while he stays with them.

It was our turn to entertain Freddie a few weeks ago and I was flicking through the diary, wondering what weird stuff I could come up with. I looked at pictures of Freddie holidaying at Centerparcs and with waxwork statues of the Queen and Barack Obama at Madame Tussauds.

I then turned the page and realised that anything I came up with would be utterly pointless.

There was Freddie Frog sat on the knee of Nelson Mandela.

No, not a waxwork Nelson Mandela. The actual Nelson Mandela.

Nelson fucking Mandela.

It appears that the kid's grandfather was at university with him and was part of his defence team.

How am I meant to top that other than by breaking into the Vatican? And I've already done that once.

Neither my Grandfather, nor his friends, had any songs written about them by the Specials. In fact, no ska band has written about any of my family or friends.

Except possibly "Lip Up, Fatty".