OUR youngest has always loved sleeping with his mum. Cuddling up to her in the big bed is his idea of heaven, and I've lost count of the number of times I've been relegated to his room.

Max was eight last week and it's still his intention to marry her "in a few years". I'm on notice to move out and get another wife.

Sometimes, he starts off in our bed, hoping we can't be bothered to transfer him to his own bed when we come up. It's not so easy to lift him these days and he knows it.

Other times, he arrives at our bedside in the early hours, having had a bad dream and in he gets.

Over the years, it's become a bone of contention between us. He sees me as a rival for Mum's affections, and I see him as a cuckoo in the nest.

Normally, I do my best to avoid being kicked next door. But just lately, I haven't protested too strongly because my wife's had a heavy cold which has meant her snoring has become unbearable. It's been like sleeping with a chainsaw that needs oiling.

On Saturday night, Max came downstairs, as usual, and asked if he could start off in our bed. Mum followed him shortly afterwards when she realised that Match of the Day was due to start and Parky would have to be switched over.

As I finally climbed the stairs close to midnight, I could hear the snoring echoing in our room and decided there and then that I'd be much better off in the sanctity of Max's bed. But it turned out to be not quite that straightforward. Max met me on the landing with an anguished look on his face.

"Dad, it's OK, you can sleep in your own bed tonight," he said, trying to push past me into his own room.

"No, no, Max," I protested, holding him back. "I know how much you love sleeping with Mummy - I really don't mind."

"It's OK, honestly Dad, it's not fair for you to go to my bed," he insisted.

"It is fair," I muttered through gritted teeth. "Now go and get back in with Mummy."

A kind of Sumo wrestling match followed in which he tried to manhandle me away from the door of his room, and I tried to push him back towards the sound of the chainsaw.

When it became clear that he wasn't going to win, he came clean with a sigh of exasperation: "I can't sleep in there. Mummy's snoring is keeping me awake."

He proceeded to give me a demonstration of her two different types of snoring: "One's like this (quite a high-pitched sound like a train coming through a tunnel) and the other's like this (a deeper, guttural sound, reminiscent of the early stages of childbirth).

I sympathised, naturally. I even considered tossing a coin. It crossed my mind to give up the fight and sleep downstairs on the settee.

But then I thought of all the times I've made way for him during eight long years, and I put my foot down.

I'm not too ashamed to say that I gave him one last push backwards with the words: "Try putting a pillow over your head" and shut the door behind me.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

JACK, 11, had overheard a news item on the radio about sex toys. Apparently, more women have them in the North-East than anywhere else in the country (55 per cent).

"Mum, have you got a sex toy?" he asked in all innocence.

Mum, whose sister was in the kitchen at the time, answered with admirable presence of mind.

"Er, yes I do - it's called your Dad."

A PARTY of schoolchildren was being shown round a fire station and the officer in charge was keen to get the message across that humans were the only creatures in the world who could both start and put out fires.

When the visit was over, he tested them: "So what is it that humans do that no other creature in the world does?"

A little girl put her hand up and said: "Humans are the only creatures in the world to use toilet paper."

(Thanks to Ernie Reynolds, of Wheatley Hill, for sending this in.)

AND finally, an email circulating among the mums in our village which they apparently think is funny...

Sally was driving home from a business trip in Northern Arizona when she saw an elderly woman of the Navajo tribe walking on the side of the road.

As the trip was a long and quiet one, she stopped the car and asked the Navajo woman if she would like a ride. With a silent nod of thanks, the woman got into the car.

Resuming the journey, Sally tried in vain to make a bit of small talk with the Navajo woman, but the old woman just sat silently, looking intently at everything she saw, studying every little detail, until she noticed a brown bag on the seat next to Sally.

"What's in the bag?" asked the old woman. Sally looked down at the brown bag and said: "It's a bottle of wine. I got it for my husband."

The Navajo woman was silent for another moment or two. Then speaking with the quiet wisdom of an elder, she said: "Good trade."