THOSE words "ask your father" have been a stock answer coming out of the mouths of mums for generations. So facing embarrassing questions from children is part of the job description for us poor, hard-done-by dads.

You may, for example, recall how our eldest - aged ten - nearly made me crash the car by asking: "Dad, does Father Christmas really exist?" quickly followed by "Dad, what's an orgasm?"

He'd heard the 'o' word being whispered at school and I did my best to give him a delicate explanation involving love and nice feelings. A few weeks later, I was discussing the orgasm question with my childhood mate Colin, a father of two boys and a devoted Middlesbrough season ticket holder. "How would you have answered it, Col?" I asked. "I'd have told the truth," he replied. "I'd have told him I couldn't remember." He then went on to tell me how his youngest son Stephen had asked his own embarrassing question the week before.

"Dad, can I ask you something?"

"Course you can, son."

"But it's a bit embarrassing, Dad."

"Oh I see. Don't worry. I'm your Dad, you can ask me anything."

"But it's really embarrassing Dad. I don't know if I can."

"Look, Stephen, don't be embarrassed, just ask me and I'll do my best to help."

"Well, Dad, it's just that I was wondering. . .I was wondering. . .it's no good Dad, it's too embarrassing."

"STEPHEN, COME ON, JUST ASK!"

Stephen took a deep breath and went for it: "Dad, is it alright if I support Man United?" His Dad moaned. And it had nothing to do with orgasms.

A love story

IF stories are judged by their reverberations around the world, the tale of Tallulah, the tummy tuck bunny, is neck and neck with the downfall of Peter Mandelson as the year's most talked about news item. Some may scoff and salivate in other columns over the nutritional value of rabbit pies, but television appearances, national newspaper follow-ups from The Times to The Daily Star, and radio interviews from as far afield as Toronto, New York and Dublin speak for themselves. Even an American magazine is sending a photographer and reporter our way for a piece of the action.

It all started, of course, when The Northern Echo reported that Tallulah had undergone cosmetic surgery to remove an unsightly roll of fat, and then set up home with Aladdin, the Dad At Large family's love-sick bunny.

People have stopped in the street and on the platform of Darlington railway station to ask "How are the rabbits?" A nurse at Geldard's vets in Darlington wanted to know if the creature being brought in for a jab was "the famous rabbit". When my wife telephoned The Dolphin Centre in Darlington to book a squash court, the receptionist asked: "Is that the Mrs Barron of Tallulah fame?"

Anyway, you'll be pleased to know that things have taken a distinct turn for the better since the last chapter, when Tallulah decided she didn't like Aladdin after all and turned violent.

The pair were sent off to Bunny Burrows rabbit sanctuary at Richmond for a "bonding holiday" and have returned as a normal couple - i.e. she pushes him around, has mood swings, and snaps at him if he gets amorous.

It's only a matter of time before Hello! Magazine calls to negotiate a deal for the wedding pictures.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

Derek Grocott, a teacher at Norton Comprehensive School, near Stockton, was marking a geography paper at home and began to chuckle when he got to a passage on mountain ranges.

A boy, who needs to concentrate harder on his spelling, had written the immortal line: "The penis is the backbone of England."