The Truth About Babies, New Parents and Crack Addicts

Have you met new parents? I really can't tell the difference between them or crack addicts. In fact, I'm convinced they're the same. Bloodshot eyes, pale skin, always say stuff like; "it's really great you should try it". They don't realise how desperately unhappy they are.

So yes, I reached that age when it seems everyone I meet is having or just had a baby. I have to say it's quite worrying. It feels like something out of a Stephen King novel.

Truth is, for me, it's never happened (that I'm aware of). I'm not against having children, but nor am I for it. For me, it's just how human nature works. I stick my willy in places, and if a baby happens, I'll get on with it, enjoying the delights of parenthood along the way. But, problem is, I'm a logical person. So, faced with the baby 'choice', I'm always going to say 'no'. I can't deal with lack of sleep, needy people and - worst of all - poo. Why would I actively choose to put myself through that? Why would anyone for that matter? No, there's no point me ever being allowed 'the choice'. For all you lucky future girlfriends out there who have aspirations on my seed, it's probably best you just trick me into getting you pregnant. I'm pretty sure this is how it was in the 'good old days'.

I am myself no stranger to children. My brother has three children; twin boys (3), and a girl (4). Their house contains more energy than a nuclear power plant on cocaine. But those little tykes do have their benefits. When my niece was born, I made sure we had plenty of photos taken together, so I could post them on Facebook in the vain hope that any females circling my profile would see my 'sensitive side'. Their uterus would skip a beat, and their vaginas would find their way to my bed. Unfortunately, it didn't work. But, undeterred, I now hit the streets armed with all three children and the story of how, as a single parent, I've been raising the kids on my own ever since the mother died at childbirth. A bit sick maybe, but you should see the attention I get. Priceless.

Have you met new parents? I really can't tell the difference between them or crack addicts. In fact, I'm convinced they're the same. Bloodshot eyes, pale skin, always say stuff like; "it's really great you should try it". They don't realise how desperately unhappy they are and, ooh, they looooove Ice-cream. I'm telling you, new parents and crack addicts are cut from the same cloth. Yet, the sad thing is, somehow crack addicts get looked upon disdainfully by society. Like some social disease. Why is this? At least crack addicts have the decency to keep their dirty little habit to themselves. At least they don't send you photos of their ugly habit, expecting you to throw enthusiasm and awe their way. They also have the piece of mind to talk about things other than crack, like government conspiracies and 'really cool beats'. You wouldn't find new parents talking about anything other than; "Blah, blah, blah. Baby sick and poo." I mean, come on new parents, take some crack already!

Okay, so I'm being a little harsh. I mean, five of my friends are having or have had babies in the winter months. Maybe it's me who needs to wise up and change. But, let's get one thing clear. People who claim to like all children are weird. You cannot like all children. Children are people. And some people are detestable. These detestables have little detestable children. It's possible that this offspring will not be likeable. You can't like everyone. Got it? Good. Whilst we're at it, let's get another thing clear; not all new-born babies are cute. For all those people who try and convince everyone that the organism they're showcasing via the internet is something of cute merit; it's not. It's something you're keeping alive. Like a goldfish. Don't get me wrong, it's your thing, you're happy, I'm genuinely pleased for you, but it's not that great to look at and, besides, what do you want from me? You'll probably get a better response in three months when the little thing starts to make weird noises, pokes people in the eyes and starts eating Finders Crispy Pancakes. In the meantime, photos of you breast-feeding will suffice.

Right, got to go, there's a woman at my door claiming to be pregnant with my child. I think this means I can finally put my crack pipe away.

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