Why Festivals Make the Best Crèches

(This post originally appeared in the Huffington Post)

2013-08-15-festivalpicnew.jpg‘Look, Daddy – that one’s on ketamine!’

Some guys encourage their kids to recognise sports cars. I showed mine how to spot the drug casualty. It seems to have hadthedesired effect on The Girl. While her peers are stumbling through the transition from Inbetweeners to Skinsby tripping the white fantastic, to her it’s the frankly banal equation: Father thinks drugs are kinda cool = so not cool.

I’d like to point out I didn’t thrust her from the cradle to the rave without giving it careful thought, but I can’t. I fathered her when I was stupidly young and took her to her first festival because that’s where I was going that weekend. I sat her on my knee in a field, she started bouncing, and that was that. I’ve been taking her along to festivals ever since, and she’s hands down the coolest, most sociable girl you’ll ever meet. Plus she has the most excellent iPod playlist any 16-year-old can boast of. I’m having that. Continue reading “Why Festivals Make the Best Crèches”

My Girl Doesn’t Stash Cutlery in Her Pants

(This article was originally published in the Huffington Post)

2013-08-22-maiyaforknew.jpg

Heard the one about the Asian girl with the spoon in her pants?

I wish this was a joke, but it’s all too horribly true. Young girls walking the Green Mile to marriage are being advised to carry concealed cutlery to set off the alarm in the hope airport staff will save them from a forced union.

Whenever I read a story like this, I’m tempted to say to The Girl, ‘see how nice I am to you?’, semi-expecting to receive all sorts of medals. But that would be ridiculous. I wouldn’t appreciate someone telling me that even though he has the power to smash my face in and ram a brick up my arse, look, he didn’t, see how nice he is? No, deciding not to mess up another person’s life doesn’t make you nice – it makes you civilised. So you’re not a vicious, sadistic prick to your children? Well done. Have a samosa. Continue reading “My Girl Doesn’t Stash Cutlery in Her Pants”