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There has been a recent spate of people I know having babies. Not only have I become an uncle for the first time, but most of my friends have started producing offspring too. I attended two barbeques at the weekend and my wife and I felt like the odd ones out because we were the only couple there without a little bundle of walking poo and noise. In fact I felt like I was at a crèche rather than a barbeque.

It’s a sign of the times and it is all jolly lovely to see the dawn of the next generation. Despite the fact that I hold a baby in the same way a girl will hold a football, it is something I’m probably going to have to get used to. After all, the recent home improvements, extensions and re-mortgaging isn’t being done because I enjoy not having any money, it is being done because the new Mrs. Grumpy and I want mini grumps to poo all over us and keep us awake for the next few years.

As daunting as it is, I’m actually looking forward to it. I see it as the next chapter in my life. The idea of creating life and passing on my infamous wisdom and cynical, twisted views of the world to my children will give me a huge sense of pride. Of course I sometimes worry what kind of parent I’ll be. I hope to be a good father. I’m sure I’ll make mistakes and not always get things right but there are certain things I’ll never do. For instance, I won’t ever take a baby onto an aeroplane because I don’t want to piss off the rest of the passengers when the little thing inevitably decides to scream its head off and projectile vomit everywhere when we hit turbulence. I wouldn’t take a baby to a foreign country until it is old enough to at least walk and talk. Even then I hope I’ll never be stupid enough to accidentally forget about it or worse leave it unattended in a hotel room while I have dinner somewhere else, leaving it to be either accidentally kidnapped or accidentally killed leaving me to have to come up with some elaborate plot to make it look like an actual accident. Even if that did happen, I’d like to think I wouldn’t be idiotic enough to go on telly and bleed my heart out to a gullible public and plead to the accidental kidnappers to accidentally return the baby. I certainly wouldn’t then cash in on my accidental misery my publishing a book detailing my accidental lies and subsequently become a millionaire by selling my story to every newspaper in the world and taking money from charitable donations that were setup as a result of the tragic accident. Even if I did accidentally manage to do that, I would expect to be arrested and made a prime suspect by the authorities. Even if I was acquitted of the accidental kidnapping/overdose of Valium, I would fully expect to be charged with gross negligence and thrown in jail where I would be forced to pick up the soap by Mr. Big on a daily basis. I certainly wouldn’t expect is to be treated like a celebrity.

Of course something I know I’ll have to contend with is the child’s education. This will inevitably be a problem for me because I think the education system is rubbish and the majority of teachers are idiots. Even before the child reaches school age, they will be educated by everyday things like watching mummy and daddy communicate and by watching telly. The former isn’t a problem because my wife and I are both fairly eloquent but the latter worries me somewhat.

I have had the misfortune of accidentally watching kids TV a few times and it confuses the crap out of me. The only thing I learned from watching it is why the youth of today are so messed up in the head. It is because they grew up watching brightly coloured blobs who speak an imaginary language and jump around and look like they are having bum sex in bizarre foam suits. It is because they watch shows presented by Britain’s campest men who scream unintelligibly at the top of their voices and make about as much sense as Simon Cowell’s waistline. It is because they watch cartoons where the characters scream and shout a lot and have no educational purpose. It is because most parents these days shove their kids in front of this crap every day with a packet of sugar to keep them quiet.

Of course I grew up watching cartoons like Scooby-Doo which basically consists of a talking dog, a butch dyke, a gay man dressed as a sailor, a ginger girl and a whiney faggot solving mysteries every day. Danger Mouse, which was a one-eyed talking mouse and a hamster fighting an evil frog, Willow the Wisp, which had something to do with an orange caterpillar and a talking telly and Thomas the Tank Engine, which involved a made-up island full of talking trains. Perfectly normal.

I actually watched some newer Thomas the Tank Engine episodes recently. Not only is it pants without Ringo Starr, they have they ruined it by making all the faces CGI. Because the Americans bought the rights to it, they have also butchered it completely. For the first time, I also realised how shockingly dangerous the Island of Sodor is. I mean every episode seems to involve one of the engines crashing into buildings or trucks, getting buried in snow, falling into water and getting de-railed on a seemingly daily basis. Due to my increased awareness of the world as an adult, I’m also very suspicious about some of the characters. Trevor the Traction Engine for example; He lives alone in an old barn and every episode he is in seems to revolve around him and his fascination with children. He’s always talking about how much he likes children and how much he wants to give children rides and goes to bed dreaming about children. I know he’s supposed to be a traction engine but still…