Dad At Large

Jack, aged 11, is a walking noise-box. Apart from the disturbance caused by his new electric guitar, he's just one of those kids who never shuts up.

He tells rambling stories which go on forever. He finds it hard not to interrupt. He even jabbers in his sleep.

If you watch Little Britain on the telly, think of Vicky Pollard in a little boy's body: "Yeah but no but yeah but no but yeah but no..."

At the last school open day, his teacher, Mrs Petch, told us that he's doing fine. But then she shook her head a little, smiled, and said: "If only he could stop talking." Funnily enough, it was very similar to the end of term reports his mother used to get.

There is a distinct possibility that Jack's verbal diarrhoea was the reason Mrs Petch came up with the idea of a sponsored silence for Children In Need.

Miraculously, Jack managed five hours. FIVE HOURS! It must have been torture for him - but, boy, did he make up for it once it was all over.

It was like a dam bursting open after five hours of tropical rain had swollen a river to the point of irresistibility.

The words came pouring out in torrents, falling over themselves in a headlong rush. He talked and talked like a parrot on helium: "Yeah but no but yeah but no but yeah but no but yeah but no."

Sadly for Jack, he woke up last week with a face twice as big as normal. The doctor gave him a blood test and rang later to confirm he'd got mumps, even though he's had two MMR jabs.

Hamster chops - as Jack's become affectionately known - has subsequently been in bed for a week, feeling very sorry for himself.

He can't go out, he has trouble breathing, he can't eat properly, he doesn't feel like playing his guitar and, worst of all, the swelling's making it hard for him to talk.

"How are you feeling, son?" I asked him when I got home from work.

"Sorry, Dad, it hurts when I talk," he whispered.

The house, of course, has been noticeably quieter. Like the eerie calm after a particularly violent storm.

Because he's been so poorly, he's been sleeping in our bed, with his mum by his side in case he gets upset through the night.

That means I've been going into his bed and I haven't slept so well for a long time. Instead of being woken in the early hours by thunderous snoring, I've enjoyed blissful, unbroken sleep.

No-one wants to see their children suffer and I wish hamster chops a speedy recovery. He's my mate and I miss playing tennis with him.

But, as I'm sure Mrs Petch would agree, every cloud...

THE THINGS THEY SAY

GLADYS Smith, of Woodham Townswomen's Guild, near Newton Aycliffe, recalled six-year-old grandson Robert asking: "Grandma, what's a lesbian?"

"An actor," she said, leaving Robert looking puzzled.

"I thought it was a lady who loved another lady," said the boy.

"Oh," replied Gladys, starting to blush, "I thought you said thespian."

PAT Deakin, who sits on the national executive of the Townswomen's Guild, remembered the time her son Michael was eight and was asked: "How do you like school, son?"

"Shut," came the unhesitating reply.

PAT has also never forgotten being on a bus when a mum got on with her little boy who was misbehaving.

"If you don't stop, I'm going to tell your dad," she said.

"Well, if you do, I'm going to tell him how you weed in the bath," he retorted.

"Everyone heard - she had to get off at the next stop," said Pat.

FREDA McGrath told of the time a little chap called Gary was at Sunday School.

When the collection plate came round, Gary put sixpence in as he'd been told, but his friend had spent his money on sweets.

"You won't go to heaven," Gary told his pal.

"Yes I will - everyone goes to heaven," replied the boy.

"Aye but when I go, my fare will be paid," said Gary.

IT'S not just children who come out with classics. Last week, I had a lunch with a local school principal who told me about a delightful conversation with a neighbour.

The principal was admiring her neighbour's lovely new cupboard.

"Oh, yes," said the neighbour, "I got it from al-Qaida - I get all of my furniture from al-Qaida."

DAD AT LARGE 3

THE latest book in the series, "Dad At Large 3 - Whose Paper Round Is It Anyway?" is on sale at Ottakar's in the Cornmill Centre, Darlington, and from Northern Echo offices. It is priced £5, with £1 going to the Butterwick Children's Hospice for every copy sold.

If you haven't got your copy yet, Peter Barron - armed with free mince pies - will be signing books in the front reception of The Northern Echo building in Priestgate, Darlington, between 11am and noon on Saturday, December 18.

* For a chance to win a copy of the new book, log on to www.thisisthenortheast.co.uk and click on Competitions.

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