The Pram In The Hall

 Type of Writing: A love story based on Kit's love for his thumb. Thumb: A Love Story When Kit James Raj was born, he knew he was loved. Prior to his arrival, his mum and dad had cried separately. Tiredness. Football. Work. The Movies. Loss. Just some of the causes. What they had never done is cried together. They were solo artists when it came to sobbing. Sure, sometimes the other might join in on backing, adding some texture and volume, but not enough to put their name to the record. Yet when Kit was born, they were the Simon and Garfunkel of bawling. Together, their tear ducts joined hands for a weepy ballad. No troubled waters here though, only happy ones. The thing is it wasn’t enough that Kit was loved, he wanted to love too. And not just his parents and the entourage they came with. He wanted to find something for himself, something to call his own. You might wonder how a baby could have such a romantic predisposition. Well, his father was probably to blame. In school, K...

 Type of writing: A list of nicknames that trolls might use against my eye patch wearing son. Gabrielle Patch Adams Apatchy helicopter Walk the Plank Aye- Aye Captain War Correspondent, Marie Colvin Slick Rick Cluster’s Last Stand Patcho Monreal (Former Arsenal Full-back) Jelly and cluster Government cover up Nick Fury Pieces of eight Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopes Patch of the Day Movie villain cliche Undercover eye gent The Itchy and Patchy Show Danger Mouse General Cluster

Type of Writing:  A piece about grandparents holding Kit written in the style of a bombastic Boris Johnson speech. (I had to watch quite a few YouTube videos of him to try and get his voice - Lord help me!) The day has come. Yes, that’s right, the day has come to ease the lockdown on this child, this bambino, this wind instrument, this brass belcher. His grandparents have had to wait. The days have felt interminable. Yes, interminable. The months have stretched like an octogenarian’s yawn. But the wait is now over. And like the good people of Guinness say, ‘Good Things Come To Those Who Wait.’ And what a good thing this is. This gleaming, smiling, beatific, terrific boy. Just look at him. Sweeter than sweet. Simply gorgeous. An M&S advert put to gurgles. So sweet you could put him in a ramekin and serve him for pud. Am I right? This little angel delight. Who wants to eat him up? (Cheers). I said, 'Who wants to eat him up?' ( Cheers ) We all do. Of course, we do. Yes, he wi...

 Type of writing: Parody of a movie review based on Kit's second round of jabs. Immunisation: Nurse’s Revenge is the much-anticipated sequel to the box-office smash, Immunisation . In the first instalment a two-month old called Kit came face-to-face with the dark side of the medical profession. Confined to a chair, held down by a sadistic parent, he faced three separate horrors: a syringe to the mouth followed by two needles to the thigh. Never before in cinema history had a nurse been depicted with the level of evil seen in the unnamed assailant. As injector and tormentor, actress Annie Sexton brought to the role a malevolence unparalleled in horror history. Even One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest ’s Nurse Ratched seems positively mild in comparison, someone you would clap for on a Thursday night, when put alongside Immunisation’s monstrous creation. You would think watching a baby in pain would only appeal to the depraved pond life of horror fandom’s murkiest swamp, but the film be...

Type of writing: Holiday postcard. Dear Readers, What a time I’ve been having on this my first holiday. As far as I can tell, a holiday is where you go for a rest, but end up feeling more tired than you did at home. Today I went down on something called a beach. A beach is a yellow floor that you can carry around with you. I took some home in my hair, eyes, elbows, hands, toes and bum. It sticks so much I’ll probably be wearing it tomorrow too. I also went in a place called the sea. The sea is a bath with no sides. It also goes up and down, making a pshhhhhh sound. Normally, my mum and dad are quick about putting me in the water, but today they were slower. Dad carried me down to the water’s edge and mum had her camera.  Them having a camera made me remember the early days when they used to take a picture of me in the bath – they don’t do that any more, so I wondered why they were doing it here.  My feet soon discovered why.  Thi...