Good news. Ugly fathers produce fitter babies.\r\n\r\nWomen, take note – that Adonis you\’re eyeing up as the father of your unborn child is the wrong choice. Instead, pick an ugly man – as he will produce healthier babies than an attractive one, research suggests. The theory centres on females knowing they may not have another chance to procreate, so they decide to make the best of what they have – an unattractive male. Offspring from ‘low-quality’ males need extra resources to flourish so females compensate by investing more in the reproduction, scientists claim.
The discovery came after monogamous female zebra finches which paired with the least attractive males laid larger eggs with more orange yolks – a sign of good health.\r\n\r\n\’Females also deposited more testosterone into eggs when paired to a low-quality male,\’ said German bird expert Elisabeth Bolund, whose findings were published by the Royal Society.’
It is father’s day soon and I have started thinking about presents. Not just for my dad but this year for the for the first time in my life, what my daughter might buy for me.
Being only 11 months old she is a bit too young to go shopping on her own so I have been debating whether it is ok to raid baby’s bank account, where we put her child benefit, to buy myself a new pair of jeans. After all what is better – her future education or for her not be embarrassed by her father looking like a tramp when he picks her up from nursery? I am sure you will agree that it is the latter.
Just in case the above proposal is rejected by wifey I have also been looking for father days gifts. In doing so I came across adverts for fathers day flowers. It had never crossed my mind to buy flowers for my father. I always buy flowers online for my mum but not my dad. I think he’d think there was something wrong with me if I turned up with a bouquet. My dad prefers being taken for a beer and being given a set of spanners or some other metal manly thing.?“Flowers are for women, son” he’d say. ?But now that I’m a daddy I quite like the idea. In future years if my daughter sends me flowers I’d be delighted. Just because they are pretty and smell nice, why should flowers be the preserve of the feminine?\r\n\r\nI’m a man and I like flowers. There I’ve said it.\r\n\r\nAlthough I draw the line at pot pourri.\r\n\r\n If you are looking for florists in london why not try Interflora.‘, ‘Fathers Day Flowers’
Thomas The Tank Engine is better than everything else in the world, says Joshua Danton Boyd in this funny article at Sabotage Times. Here are three of his reasons why Thomas Rules.
He’s Got Style Have you seen that paint job? Geez, he pulls that off perfect. The thing is, no one else could. He’s speeding down those tracks arresting gazes wherever he goes. Past council houses and posh estates, everyone’s got respect for the way he carries himself. Mick Jagger couldn’t pull that colour scheme off, no way. EvenBowie would baulk at that shit. Thomas doesn’t even care. His look is effortless. He was given that paint job and he owns it without breaking a sweat. You dress yourself and you look like arse.
Ringo Starr Works For Him That’s right. That goggle-eyed, ring-wearing, smiley Beatle has been forced into submission by The Tank. A man incredibly rich and famous is bent to Thomas’ will, narrating every action of his life. Whatever you think of Starr, making a Beatle spend his time concentrating and talking about you is no easy feat
He’s Got His Own Theme Tune Everyone wants their own theme tune. That’s why MP3 players are so popular as they make us feel like whatever shit we’re listening to is sound-tracking our lives. As we walk to work, we imagine ourselves in a film in a desperate ten minutes of escapism where we try to avoid the crushing reality that all we are are tools for our superiors to make money. Thomas gets one done for him for no other reason than he deserves one. A song solely written for him, just like Marilyn Monroe and Princess Di got, except The Tank’s one is a ton better.
I don’t want to knock my gorgeous baby daughter but it has to be said she is pretty useless.
She is uncoordinated, sleepy, inattentive, forgetful and has no idea how to get her own food and no idea how to protect herself.
Leave her on her own for a day and shed starve and if there was a predator nearby (such as a fox or an eagle) she’d be snatched and eaten.Compared to many animals she is hopeless.
Baby rabbits are weaned off their mums when they are just three weeks old and can fend for themselves.Wildebeest calves, and many other grazing animals, are up and running from the word go, to avoid becoming dinner for nearby predators. Newborn dolphins are able to swim immediately.There is even a name for it – precocial – which describes animals that are active form birth, species that are physically mobile and able from the moment of birth or hatching.
Precocial birds, like ducks and chickens, can often feed themselves as soon as mum shows them what is edible.There are even superprecocial birds such as the bush turkey, and scrub fowl that don’t need their parents at all and emerging from the nest fully feathered and able to fly, run, and claw.
This week i am handing over writing the blog to my 6 month old baby girl.
26th Dec Spent the morning sitting in the corner of the sofa playing with my toys and chatting to myself. Sometimes its nice to have me time. Papa took me swimming in the paddling pool. I liked it when we were playing but didn’t when he tried to get me to do my swimming exercises. I cried and he stopped. He can be a real pushover.
27th Dec I love looking at the baby girl in the big mirror on the wall. Its amazing as I move my hand she moves her hand too. When I blow bubbles she does too.
28th Dec At lunch I had sweet potato. It was nice.I am learning how to eat it a bit better now, Although I still like to dribble it out.\r\n\r\nAfter lunch papa took me swimming. I liked playing but didn’t like learning to swim. Papa and mummy had an argument over it. They put me in a blow up ring but I was too small. They then balanced me on top which would have been fun but I fell off into the water and my face went under and I don’t like that. So I cried. Quite a lot. Papa took me to look at some flowers and leaves and that made me calm. Wrapped in a towel I fell asleep on papa’s chest as he lay on the sun lounger reading. It was very nice. Later mummy admitted to papa that she got a bit jealous of how I like to hang out with papa. That’s silly. I love them both very much.
29th Dec I tried to stand up against the sofa today but got a bit cocky and fell over and hit my head. I cried a lot and now have a big red mark on my forehead.\r\n\r\nLater we all lay on the sofa and watched a movie. I liked playing with mummy’s hair. Yesterday I was daddy’s girl. Today I’m mummy s girl. You have to spread your love around.
31st Dec I just love sticking my tongue out I do almost all the time at the moment.We went to a restaurant and mummy and papa made me wear a silly hat. I cried. Then a waitress called me a boy.
1st Jan There were some strange noises coming from mama and papas bedroom last night.Did a poo today and a little bit of it was solid. Papa seemed very happy about it.
2nd Jan I love my food although sometimes I find sucking my bib is more fun. I have worked out that if I fall backwards on the sofa and then thrash around like a dying beetle someone comes and gives me attention.
3rd Jan I had baby rice today. I like eating although I’m not sure I am doing it right. When papa eats (and he seems to eat all the time) he doesn’t seem to make as much mess as me.\r\n\r\nI am still finding learning to crawl hard. I like my tummy time for a while until I become frustrated I cant do it. Today I managed to go round in a circle and go backwards, the trouble was I was really trying to crawl forwards. Its really hard. I am worried I might have inherited papa’s physical awkwardness.I am not so interested in playing with the girl in the mirror. I suspect she might be me.’
All my life I have watched parents pick up crying children and put their child’s head on their shoulders . Before I became a father I always used to think that this was something you read about in a baby manual something that said this is comforting for the child. Now I realise there is another reason.
Sticking your child’s head over your shoulder makes the ear piercing screams goes behind you, over your shoulder, and not right into your ear. It’s the only way to hold them and not have your eardrums in pain.
Whether its actually comforting for the child I am not sure but its certainly more comforting for the parent.
Wifey has jetted off with baby to see her family. I will join her in a couple of weeks but for now I am free! Woo hoo!
I fancy going clubbing, but its been so long I’m not sure I know the names of the drugs anymore.
It gives you the licence to be a kid again. You can play with trains, jump on the bed, make funny noises, make up words and watch kids tv all day.
All things my wife would never let me do before we had baby.
There are so many people in M&S in Soho at lunch time that when you go to pay its like queueing up to get into a football stadium. You are corralled and herded into lines so you can pass the tills at maximum speed. I like it. Its efficient and works because us Brits love a good queue.But today it was different because before i knew it I wasn’t heading for a human I was heading towards the machines.
I am about to face the self scanners. I don’t want the machine, I want a human. I want a nice middle aged lady who takes my money with a smile. In fact I’ll take any type of human even a spotty teenager who is constantly yakking to her mate at the next till about how mashed they got last night. I don’t want to do it myself ,I want someone to do it for me. Its what I pay for. Next they’ll be getting me to make the sandwich myself.\r\n\r\nI’m not good with automated stuff. I have only just mastered chip and pin and still feel pleased with myself everytime the machine says “Pin OK”, looking round for affirmation, like my 6 month year old daughter, expecting the waitress or shopkeeper to give me a little clap for my efforts.\r\n\r\nAs we shuffle forward I can feel my heart speeding up and I start to freak out into a sweat. Its all so intimidating. All those seasoned scanners clutching their focaccias and hand baked crisps and shaking their heads at the people getting it wrong with the scanners, holding up the queue and eating into their precious lunch break. I don’t want to get it wrong.\r\n\r\nI don’t want to be sneared at by the pros. I don’t want the machine to scream at me “WARNING WARNING THERE IS A FOREIGN OBJECT IN THE BAGGING AREA”. I don’t want the flashing light and the buzzer sound “ACHTUNG ACHTUNG THIS MAN IS AN IDIOT”.\r\n\r\nAs the queue shuffles forward I can feel THE FEAR increasing. I clutch my crayfish sandwich and pasta salad tighter and tighter. I consider making a break for it. To make a burst for freedom and head for the human tills. But the queue is too tight and I don’t think I’d be able to battle through the hoards. I crane my neck to watch the people using the machine to try and pick up tips. But I am so nervous I’m not sure I can take it all in.\r\n\r\nThen suddenly I am next. After the man in front with his sesame bar and organic yoghurt, its me. I take a big breath and stride confidently up to the machine. “I am a man.” I whisper under my breath. “You are just a machine. I am your master.”\r\n\r\nI swipe my plastic container with the pasta under the green light and lo and behold there is a beep. I swell with pride. I place it to my right in the plastic bag. My sandwich gets the same confident sweep and the same reassuring beep and green light. Yes. I don’t appear to have any foreign objects in the bagging area. Get In! I press the big PAY button on the screen. I slide my ten pound note into the feeder. It swallows it first time. Woo Hoo. That feels good. There is slight panic when for a second I cant find my change. But before some smug bloke can say “Its below the scanner dummy” I find it. I have my change. I have my salad and sandwich. I still have my dignity. I walk all the way back the office with a spring in my step.
All that beautiful breast on display but not allowed to touch. Its like being permanently in a lap dancing club.