Today, Peter and Jane have been very trying.
Mummy is counting the minutes until she can put Peter and Jane to bed and have some peace and quiet.
Daddy is working late at the office, though Mummy suspects he has gone to the pub in order to avoid bedtime.
There are still many things to do before Mummy can shut the little bastards in their bedrooms for the night.
First, Mummy must give Peter and Jane some dinner and listen to them whine for chicken nuggets instead of the nice middle class dinner she has cooked; lecture them on why they must eat their vegetables, and stop them trying to stab each with their cutlery, before giving Pat the Dog Peter and Jane's rejected vegetables, and wondering when they are going to get scurvy.
Next, it is bathtime.
Bathtime involves trying to pin down Peter and Jane while they are screaming, writhing and wet, and scrub the worst of the filth off them, while they shriek that the shampoo has gone in their eyes even though Mummy hasn't even got the bastarding shampoo off the shelf yet.
Mummy hates bath time, and she hates those sodding bubble bath adverts that show nice children playing quietly in their bath with rubber ducks, and not screeching like banshees and drenching the entire bathroom, and their mothers, before getting out and slipping on the wet floor and howling loudly about it.
Mummy also hates those fucking 'parenting tips' that suggest 'incorporating a soothing bath as part of your child's bedtime routine will help them to sleep.'
Mummy wonders if the twats who write these tips even have children, and if they do, how smacked off their tits are they, that they think there is anything calming and soothing about trying to bath fucking children?
Once Mummy has wrangled Peter and Jane into their pyjamas, it's story time.
Story time is shit, but Mummy has to do it, because she is middle class and if Peter and Jane ever told anyone that Mummy doesn't read them a bedtime story, she would probably have her MyWaitrose card confiscated.
"Read me this Pokemon book." says Peter.
"Read me this Rainbow Fairy book." says Jane.
"No" says Mummy "I am reading ONE story, to you both, and I am NOT reading about pissing Pokemon or Rainbow Fucking Fairies. We are having Green Eggs and Ham."
"Noooooooo, we hate Green Eggs and Ham." whine Peter and Jane, but Mummy ignores them.
Mummy loves Green Eggs and Ham, and actually knows it off by heart, which is good because she can now recite it very, very fast and get story time over with as soon as possible.
Other good things about Green Eggs and Ham are that Mummy can snigger every time at the line 'Could you, would you, with a goat' and also she hopes that if she reads it to Peter and Jane enough, one day they too may follow the exhortations of Sam I Am and try to eat a new fucking food. This is probably quite a vain hope, but in the meantime there is always the goat smut to cheer her.
Story time over, Mummy tucks up Peter and Jane, and gives them a kiss, quite as if she actually likes them.
Peter and Jane spoil the moment, as they always do by letting Mummy get almost to the door before firing a barrage of pointless and annoying questions at her.
"Mummy, what is your favourite object ever?" asks Peter.
"Mummy, who was your second best friend when you were nine and three quarters? asks Jane.
"Mummy, how many camels do you think there are in the world?" asks Peter.
"Mummy, what do you think is better, Spongebob or Adventure Time?" asks Jane.
"Mummy, do you like Pokemon or Moshi Monsters best?" asks Peter.
"Mummy, who do you think would win in a fight- Pat the Dog or an otter?" asks Jane.
Mummy does not give a shit about any of these things, except Spongebob Vs Adventure Time because she identifies strongly with Squidward and thinks Adventure Time is the most fucked up thing she has ever seen.
"Go to sleep." says Mummy.
Now that Peter and Jane are in bed, Mummy can have a little gin and watch Eastenders and hope Creepy, Fit Andy spends most of the episode walking around in nothing but a towel for no apparent reason.
Even if Creepy, Fit Andy is wearing clothes, Mummy hopes he finally gets round to offing Ronnie Bloody Mitchell and does a better job than everyone else who has tried to kill her. Mummy is astonished Ronnie Mitchell is so hard to kill, given all she ever does is trudge around sighing and swishing her stupid blonde hair at people while pretending to be a gangster and accidentally killing good characters like FatBoy. Even if Andy only managed to put her in another coma that would be quite nice, as long as Roxy doesn't try and bring her out of it again by shagging her husband at her bedside.
Oooooh, oooooh, Andy's prancing about in his towel!!!!!!
"I can't sleep." says Jane.
"Of course you can't fucking sleep, you're standing in the sitting room instead of lying in your bed WHERE YOU SLEEP!!!!" says Mummy "Now go back to bed."
"I think there might be a spider in my room." says Peter.
"Why do you think there is a spider in your room?" says Mummy.
"I just have a feeling." says Peter.
"There is not a spider in your room, go to bed." says Mummy.
"Can I have a drink?" says Jane.
"GO BACK TO BED!!!!!" says Mummy
"Maybe it's not a spider, maybe it is an earwig." says Peter.
"GO BACK TO BED!!!!" says Mummy.
"I think my leg is sore, I think I might have polio." says Jane.
"GO TO FUCKING BED!!!! GO!!! JUST FUCK OFF AND GO AWAY!!!!!" says Mummy.
"Can I just give you a hug?" says Peter.
"NOOOOOOOOOO! GO BACK TO FUCKING BED NOW!!!!!" says Mummy
"Now my other leg is sore, I really think I have polio." says Jane.
"BED!!!!!!!!" says Mummy.
An hour later, Peter and Jane are finally asleep and Mummy is half a bottle of gin down and is watching Andy in his towel in peace.
Daddy comes home.
"Why are you watching that rubbish?" Daddy says "You could talk to me instead, would you like to hear about my day?"
"AAAAAAARRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHH!" says Mummy.