Another Labour Day® has come and gone and the fruits of countless laboured births have now checked into their pink or baby blue-hued Extended Stay® nursery rooms. Yes, after forty weeks of cramps and cravings, today is a day of reckoning for new parents across the lands. New mums will dote on their blessed baby childs as new mums do — with adoring eyes, tender hands and fulsome bosoms at the ready — whilst new dads endeavor to do their part — carting out soiled nappies at arm's length and spraying Ye Olden Spiced™ aftershave about the flat, before shuffling off to their various job sites — be they factories or hellish, open office spaces — where they'll wrestle with a despicable, nagging notion that visited them in the delivery room when they first laid eyes upon their wailing offspring: "Is it mine?" Well, is he or she? Yours, that is? ‘Tis hard to say, as the little bundle of intermittent joy currently resembles one of those damnable Cabbage Thatched Kids®. A parade of visitors in the coming days will give one further pause. They’ll exclaim, “she has her mummy’s eyes” or “he’s the spittin’ image of his mum,” with nary a mention of dear, young dad's congenial pool. Who’s to say a former boychum didn’t drop anchor nine months back whilst the man of the house was bromancing his mates on a golf weekend? Or that unmarried, neighborhood wanker with the jellied hair and dandy socks, maybe he breezed in whilst someone was out telling tales at the tavern? Maybe? Alas...maybe not. This one is most assuredly on you, Citizen Impregnators™, so bury those foolish notions but good! Stuff them properly down your piehole, deep down into your stumoch where all unresolved feelings belong. Wake up, man up and pipe down! Don't blow this like your bloody dad (pictured) and the world will be the better for it. In a few short weeks, you'll be climbing 'board the conjugal bed again and all will be right with the world. Count your blessings, spring for the box of bubbled gum cigars and take our station house well wishes to heart.
Monday, September 7
Who's The Daddy?
Another Labour Day® has come and gone and the fruits of countless laboured births have now checked into their pink or baby blue-hued Extended Stay® nursery rooms. Yes, after forty weeks of cramps and cravings, today is a day of reckoning for new parents across the lands. New mums will dote on their blessed baby childs as new mums do — with adoring eyes, tender hands and fulsome bosoms at the ready — whilst new dads endeavor to do their part — carting out soiled nappies at arm's length and spraying Ye Olden Spiced™ aftershave about the flat, before shuffling off to their various job sites — be they factories or hellish, open office spaces — where they'll wrestle with a despicable, nagging notion that visited them in the delivery room when they first laid eyes upon their wailing offspring: "Is it mine?" Well, is he or she? Yours, that is? ‘Tis hard to say, as the little bundle of intermittent joy currently resembles one of those damnable Cabbage Thatched Kids®. A parade of visitors in the coming days will give one further pause. They’ll exclaim, “she has her mummy’s eyes” or “he’s the spittin’ image of his mum,” with nary a mention of dear, young dad's congenial pool. Who’s to say a former boychum didn’t drop anchor nine months back whilst the man of the house was bromancing his mates on a golf weekend? Or that unmarried, neighborhood wanker with the jellied hair and dandy socks, maybe he breezed in whilst someone was out telling tales at the tavern? Maybe? Alas...maybe not. This one is most assuredly on you, Citizen Impregnators™, so bury those foolish notions but good! Stuff them properly down your piehole, deep down into your stumoch where all unresolved feelings belong. Wake up, man up and pipe down! Don't blow this like your bloody dad (pictured) and the world will be the better for it. In a few short weeks, you'll be climbing 'board the conjugal bed again and all will be right with the world. Count your blessings, spring for the box of bubbled gum cigars and take our station house well wishes to heart.
