I wandered off to Broughton last night leaving my son to have a party with six of his chums. I did this with little fear as I know George is a nice boy with nice friends, they don’t even drink alcohol that often and the six of them could be relied on to play low level music as they saw the New Year in on the Playstation, or partaking in darts and perhaps cards. When I informed my friends in Broughton I had allowed this party to go ahead, I was greeted with frowns on tilted heads, some people were even rude enough to suggest that I may have attracted sexual activity and drunken behaviour in to my house and that it was likely that more than six or seven people were about to enter the premises……how dare they say that, he is a nice boy I told them, but this was greeted with condescending smiles with even my girlfriend joining in on the act of poking fun at my naivety. Humph!

Earlier this morning my youngest son Harry (now known as supergrass) mentioned that comments on Twitter and Facebook suggested that there may have been several more than six people here. I dismissed this as Facebook gossip and rang my golden child to see how he was. Would you believe it, the poor chap was violently sick as I was talking to him on the phone, oh my goodness me, what could he have eaten to make him so poorly? On the drive home from Diane’s, Harry, now salivating at the prospect of seeing his elder sibling getting a bollocking, read out more comments about the great party, but much to his annoyance, I dismissed it as the tittle tattle associated with social networking. Then I got home. I walked into the living room to discover that the floor was like Martines nightclub in Basingstoke during the late 80’s, my feet sticking to the wood like it had been varnished with the coating from toffee apples, this was not what I was expecting.

I moved in to the kitchen……….I am not sure where to begin on this one, but there had obviously been a spontaneous fry up featuring sausages, brown sauce and my supply of bread. The cutlery was rammed in to the sink and the cooker had a film of grease covering it, it look like Syds Cafe in Only Fools and Horses. The fridge featured a bottle of milk leaking all over the place, coating everything in sight, this was a joy behold, I was now swelling with pride. Upstairs wasn’t too bad except the disappearance of any trace of loo roll and and a towel rail ripped off the wall for reasons that are still escaping me. It was at this point I came across a teenager in my bed who looked vaguely like my son with his face painted grey. He was still in a coma, after all it was only 3.00pm, I had no right to disturb him really, but I did, loudly. My questions were greeted with caveman like grunts and claims of innocence. I searched around the rest of my house and to my relief no one was dead, but it was becoming apparent this had been some party.

Eager to confirm that this jolly up had only featured Pepsi, Orangeade and perhaps some Dandelion and Burdock, I went for a brief look in the bin outside. Now this was interesting, Vodka, Strongbow, Smirnoff Ice, Budweiser and Fosters all featured in this eclectic cocktail of alcohol. I am not sure how much more I need know about all this, I am just relieved that there have been no fatalities and most of the damage is superficial and easily cleared up. However, I am still living in fear that some maniac from Brighton Hill might come and kick my door down and punch my face in for allowing his daughter to be sexually gratified in my house. What is the law with if a male and female partake in consensual under aged sex……in my house? Could I get arrested? Fucking Hell, what if some girl was allowed to come to this party on the basis that she had told her parents I was going to be there in charge of proceedings? I could be labelled a sexual pervert, my bollocks brutally kicked in to oblivion before I could explain that I was in fact, 25 miles away!

This time no one got their stomach pumped, nobody got beaten up and I pray no one got pregnant, however, I have learnt a lesson that what your children tell you may not always be one hundred per cent correct, five per cent may be nearer the mark.

Kids, don’t you just love ’em!