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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

My eight year old god daughter Rosie was getting ready for bed last night, and I was sitting on the floor listening to her monologue as she told me news of her life. She'd just finished a long and highly competitive game of Monopoly with her mother, having won through the twin tactics of being the banker and being able to steal money, and ignoring requests for rent payment. The girl will go far.

In the middle of telling me about something altogether different in context and tone, she turned around and delightedly announced "I know what sex is!" I chose not to bat an eyelid. "That's brilliant," I replied, "so do I."

She looked really disappointed that it didn't get the reaction she was looking for. So, she carried out dilly dallying around the bedroom, as only an eight year old can when she doesn't want to go to sleep.

"And I know what sexy means."

I didn't reply.

"Do you think Christina Aguilera is sexy?" she asked.

I thought about it for a moment.

I had to ask. "What do you mean by sexy?"

She thought about it for a moment.


I didn't have to consider my answer.

"No, I don't think Christina Aguilera is sexy."

"Do you think her clothes are sexy?" she continued, despite my feigning boredom with the topic.

"But she doesn't always wear clothes," I responded.

She thought about it for a moment.


She then got in to bed, and read me the entire Dr Seuss 'Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are?' from cover to cover.


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