Tuesday, 25 September 2018


‘Aww, have you had an accident?’ IT’S NOT AN ACCIDENT IF I DID IT ON PURPOSE, DICKSPLATS. Consider that a dirty protest.

This potty training reward chart is so patronising. Pissed myself today on principle.

Fair play, whoever renovates our house from a post-apocalyptic shit tip into something vaguely inhabitable while I’m in bed deserves all the plaudits. Hope the Big People are grateful to whoever that poor fucker is.

Mummy needs to understand that when I scream:
what I’m trying to convey is:
‘Mother, I have observed that you are presently attempting to transport a rancid potty that brims with hot piss whilst struggling with the upstairs baby gate, but could you please just give me some small assurance that when your current task concludes satisfactorily you will assist me in fast-forwarding these tiresome YouTube ads in order that I may continue to watch Little Baby Bum videos that will ultimately rot my brain?’

Aimed my toddler-todger the wrong way on the potty. Whazzed all over my hand. Touched Daddy three times on the face to thank him for his assistance.

Daddy stupidly told me about his plans for later on which meant I wanted to do them right now. That silly fucker never learns.

Accidentally dummy-shamed a 6 year old in the park by casually remarking to Mummy that she was a baby while pointing directly at her face. I didn’t mean to cause offence (what’s wrong with being a baby?) but she unleashed a barrage of abuse in my direction that honestly had no place near the roundabout. I would have pointed to her eloquent and multisyllabic diatribe as proof that she had, in fact, outgrown the use of dummies but I was far too busy trying not to soil my big boy pants to put together a coherent retort.

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Wednesday, 12 September 2018


Had my first anxiety dream about the tour last night - despite everyone having tickets nobody turned up because there was a national babysitters strike...
(I had no pants on either but that’s standard for anxiety dreams isn’t it, guys? Guys?)
So please do ensure you book a non-unionised babysitter before getting your tickets here: bit.ly/LearnerParentTour
Tour starts in October and runs through till next March. Can’t wait to see some of you there. 

Tuesday, 11 September 2018

Shout Out to my Wife

Shout out to my wife for loudly & falsely accusing me of farting in front of the whole Aldi till queue. Honourable mentions to my 3 yr old who definitely did it but didn’t come forward and the shop assistant who glared at me like I’d slapped an orphan. #makingmemories

Friday, 7 September 2018


Went the park today to feed the ducks. We took peas because bread is supposed to ‘fuck with them’ (technical term) and also we secretly aspire to one day be considered middle class. 

Anyway, the ducks didn’t give two shites about our frozen peas and instead made a bee line for the smelly guy next to us who had loads of stale Hovis (mmmm!) so the kids got ratty and one nearly rolled into the pond, possibly to retrieve our peas from the feathered ingrates. 

There was a massive sign up saying ‘DO NOT FEED BREAD TO THE DUCKS’ but I’m almost certain the ducks didn’t put this up because they couldn’t get enough of the stuff. 

This photo also looks a bit like I’ve just sat myself down next to a random family.

Tuesday, 12 June 2018

The Secret Diary of a 3 Year Old

Played a game where I pretended to be Daddy. Try as I might I couldn’t quite manage to get fat, old and decrepid in the short time we were playing.
Asked Daddy to get in the bath with me and then leathered him right in the tezzers. He yelped like a frog who’d just discovered he’d mistakenly booked his anniversary meal at a local French restaurant so I seized the moment and jammed my big toe into his ring piece. He got straight out muttering something to Mummy about needing counselling.
Potty training begins tomorrow. Consumed several 9000 calorie, high intensity carbo-fibre megaportions in preparation.
Mummy asked if I needed a poo. I said no. She asked if I was sure. I said no. She asked if I meant no I didn’t need a poo or no I wasn’t sure. I said no. Just as I was quietly bemoaning her ridiculous line of questioning, I shat myself. She seemed disappointed but I think if she’s really honest with herself, she’ll know it was all her fault. The woman is an arse.
Managed to catch a glimpse of the horrible shite I did in the potty. Never really looked at it properly before. Has it been coming out my hoop like that the whole time?
The best time to almost cack yourself is dinnertime. Not only do you gross everyone completely off their food and stink the gaff out with noxious bum fumes, but you can polish off your pizza while you squeeze one out. Delicious AND efficient.
Dear Diary, today I invented something so beautiful and yet so gruesome. I call it ‘The Absent Turd.’ Part mystery, part artistic statement. Especially when craftily left behind a door that opens outwards. They won't find that for weeks.
To be continued...

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