Do the zombie by Roy

Now, where was I?

Oh yeah, that’s right, the dad thing let me tell you about some more sneaky changes that have happened upon me this month.

[advert:mpu] Fatherhood sneaks up on you. It punches you square in the mush in the midst of the normal. In the supermarket, at the pub (some chance!) YOU MUST BE RESPONSIBLE, it keeps appearing in front of my eyes. Has it been surreptitiously hardwired into my brain? I try to make it stop, but no way. That sucker is permanent.

No one prepares you for that now do they? The guilt at the smallest of things. I find myself thinking “hmm reckon I’ll pick up an extra pair of jeans for satur...NO. That duty free aftershave is pretty reasonable…NO. Go on then, one for the…NO. Must think babygrow, must think nappy, must think bugaboogoo. It's getting so bad that work is becoming a respite, well alright, almost. Other things I’ve noticed...

Sleep. Now there’s an interesting concept. I’m asleep, no awake, no asleep, no awake. I live in the twilight world of the undead. Citizens of 28 Days Later, Dawn of the Dead, Bad Brains – these are my kinfolk now. Similar IQ, similar thousand-yard stare, similar bad breath.

Although it would be rude not to point out the odd advantage to being a FTD with some of your own hair and teeth. Women, it must be said, flock to me like never before. Suddenly I am Attracto-man, able to fertilise swathes of east London at a single glance. They look, I look away. They look again. I give a sly glance. Click. They giggle, whisper and point. Click. More admiring glances. Click. This new birkenstock and pink-tshirt combo is paying dividends. They come closer, I smile a winning smile. They look at my manly arms. This is great. Where could the magic be coming from? Must be getting better looking with age, must be. Must be.

Oh. GooGooGaaGaa. It’s all about her, should’ve known better. Yep, I’m still just the watercarrier. Unclick.

Tune in next time when my complete blog consists of googoogaaagaaaaaarrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhh. And very little else.

Next Week. Fly and be free...



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