Friday, 17 October 2008

Xfactor and chips

I know about Xfactor (a popular televisual entertainment, m'lud) because I've seen it. Simon Cowell's haircut alarms me and the Louis person annoys me, but my reasons for not watching regularly are my reasons for not watching TV regularly: I never know when something embarrassing is about to happen. Given that I would be sitting next to Mlle Inkspot, who, like all daughters everywhere throughout time, is six*, the threat of embarrassment is overwhelming. At any moment there will be an explicit reference to sex and I have to have my fingers in my ears and be chanting lalalala in advance. So there is just no point.

Chips are OK. There's a Turkish chip van near our house every night bar Mondays. I don't understand the never on a Monday rule, but I can't ask because I don't speak Turkish and the chip van man doesn't understand English beyond "Good evening, two large chips please". He gets cross if you omit the good evening.

*And how do daughters stop being six? Easy: one day they are six and the next they are married with children. That's my plan, anyway.

4 comments:

Gorilla Bananas said...

I think you should practice giving your daughter terse, clinical answers to her questions about sex. Showing embarrassment is a sign of weakness which will only increase her curiosity. You have to make her feel like an ignoramus.

scarlet-blue said...

Yeah, GB is right on that one . . . if they know your weaknesses they'll take advantage. I should know. I was six once.
Sx

inkspot said...

GB, Scarlet, the problem is not when she asks questions, it's when she doesn't. That means she already knows, and then she knows that I know that she knows, and _that_ is the embarrassing bit.

Mrs Pouncer said...

dear everyone, just in from a dull bar in Twyford. Sex and children is absolutely appalling, in every specific. I simply can't tell you how wriggly I got over everything. All I can tell you is this: it gets easier, because they get older and way more secretive. You finally reach the comfortable accommodation whereby EVERYONE in the household is being secretive and that's fab, because you're all holding each other hostage. What could be nicer, family-wise?
PS to GB: you never visit me any more, and it pains me.