Two paltry efforts by yours truly to brighten up everyone’s morning in the Brightside household.
I decided to hoist my boxer shorts as high as humanly possible in the style of Borat (although, disappointingly, mine are black not lime green). You can only imagine my wife’s surprise and delight when she (finally) emerged from the bathroom to be greeted by this unexpected and wonderful sight.
Fifteen minutes later, following a dramatic and rapid transformation, I have changed into an immaculate dark suit, freshly pressed, crisp white shirt and an expensive Italian silk tie. I lurk outside the lounge door humming the theme music from James Bond. The volume reaches a explosive cresendo and is climaxed with ‘The Man With The Golden Gun’.
I complete my preparations by carefully removing my weapon from the black leather sheath and taking off the safety catch. I burst into action and storm into the lounge announcing myself with the immortal words ‘My name is Bond - James Bond’.
Then I unleash a burst of rapid fire from my gun to eliminate the three intruders lurking at the bay window followed by a head-shot to eliminate the heavily built Russian henchman, cunningly hidden under the ironing board in the playroom.
I athletically dive to the ground and shoot down the expensive crystal glass candelabra. I throw an impressive triple roll across the carpet to avoid the falling glass. I stand up to reassure the petrified children ‘Don’t worry. You are both safe now.’ Finally, I demonstrate yet another feature of my pump-action machine gun. I casually flick a switch and the telescopic shaft extends, clicks and plumes into a black umbrella.
‘Dad. Move. Your stupid umbrella is blocking the telly.’