I've just returned from a canal boat holiday in Shropshire (very nice, since you ask, and thoroughly to be recommended). It's been cold up there and yesterday the children got into bed with me while No.2 put the post-shag brews on. I fell asleep, only to be rudely woken a few minutes later by my son, who's discovered that the bed is wet inside. I mutter something about 'condensation on a wooden boat' and turn to nod off again until yet more urgent jabs in the back and the cry of "Yes daddy but it's not compensation it's all sticky and it tasted weird too" followed by Cordelia - all of 6 years old - with "Oooh, let me try!". So, from this delightful and genuinly heart-warming family scene several questions arise: i. Am I now a card carrying nonse in need of a huge collection of santa clauses and deers on the front of the house a.k.a. "Paedo Lights" ii. Will my son, post early w4nking years, remember yesterday's events at some point to wake in the night screaming his noggin off then run into my bedroom and pan me in? iii. Since my wife contributed her own personal moip into the mix, as it were, isn't she also a padeo? iv. Since my wife is a paedo ought I send her to a council estate in Portsmouth with a sign roung her neck so she can get what's coming to her, the skanky kiddy fiddling coo I think we should be told.