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Should I join the 1%?

Having a full blown row with your partner in front of your baby is reprehensible but sadly sometimes inevitable. And in the heat of a particularly virulent argument, you’ll often hear my wife and I return to this tired parenting trope: “This place is a mess; you do NOTHING around the house to help!” “Give me a chance I’m knackered, I’ve been at work all day!” “I’d LOVE to go back to work. At least I’d actually get a lunch break! Try looking after a bloody baby all day; you’ll see what tired really means!” “I’d love to!” “Yeah right, you’d last a week!” ...

“Coming down the pub?”

There are only two kinds of people in this world...those with kids, and those without. It’s very simple. Either you’re a sleepless drone who’s merely a slave to a tiny dictator…or you don’t have children.

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When a man is tired of London…he moves to Chesham

My wife and I sat down last night and decided, quite rightly, that it’s ‘insania’ for us to be paying £1,500 each month towards our landlady’s mortgage. And for what? For the pleasure of living in a small 1st floor, 2 bed flat with a sliver of a kitchen and disagreeable neighbours? So that we can say we live in Muswell Hill and enjoy the raised eyebrows of other Londoners who live in less salubrious areas and are quietly impressed with our postcode? All this and not even a f*cking tube station? Where do I sign up I hear you ask?! Moving to London all those years ago was a lifestyle choice. Quite rightly, one should take full advantage of everything that this ugly beautiful city can offer; the social life, the culture, the career ladder, the like-minded people, the energy, the history blah blah. Basically, who doesn’t want to drink overpriced craft beer in a pop-up bar located in one of the bleakest parts of south east London? ...

Dandy Dad’s Essentials: The Bank Holiday Don Draper look

As my moniker would suggest, I’m not really into casual wear. I don’t really do jeans or hoodies. Casual for me might mean not wearing a tie clip or sporting a pair of Jack Purcell with my chinos instead of loafers (well, sometimes you’ve just got to cut loose). However, with the onset of summer, there are certain concessions a foppish father simply has to make, no matter how much it irks him. Obviously layering is out, as is anything woollen – unless you want to sweat uncontrollably or look like you’re taking part in the Tweed Run. Therefore, a more stripped-back approach is warranted, but dandy dads, please choose your weapons carefully. ...

How to feed your baby

Quite frankly, I've always been a bit rubbish at feeding Martha, as you can probably tell from these pics... However, looks like my wife has the best technique; just mimic the facial expressions of your baby, that'll help the medicine go down!…

The ideal gift for babies

Have your friends just had a baby? Are you struggling for gift ideas? Well, as a new(ish) parent, I implore you not waste good money on the ubiquitous Sophie the Giraffe (chances are they’ll have at least three of these already) or an overpriced fluffy bunny from Jellycat. The fact is this; babies don’t give a shit yet. They’re just too young to anthropomorphise. The law of nature dictates that, for very young children, it’s not the gift itself, but the paper it comes wrapped in that really matters. Chances are, they’ll grab your little fuzzy animal-shaped gift by the throat, toss it carelessly it one side, and return to the pack of Huggies wet wipes that they were obsessing about before you got there. ...

Martha’s Essentials: Lindam Baby Door Bouncer

My wife and I are inexperienced enough parents to think that we can still party until the early hours (it was Eurovision this month) and be in a fit state to be at the beck and call of a 7-month-old dictator the next morning. Of course, there’s always BabyTV, with its colourful slow-moving shapes and xylophone-based soundtrack – it’s as soothing for baby as it is for your banging head. However, Martha soon loses interest in cartoons and let me tell you, too much Stick with Mick will make you want to gouge your eyes out with a spoon. ...

Can you pass The Giraffe Test?

What’s in a name hey? More than you might think actually. A child’s name says more about the parents than their tiny converse shoes do, or the make of buggy they get wheeled around in does. My name is Robin Sherwood, so it’s safe to assume my parents were absolute sadists. Thankfully, most people who choose to name their children after a favourite uncle or grandma with a daft, unfashionable moniker (like Harvey or Gerald) will use the middle name to remember them by. ...

Peppa Pig – a passive aggressive porker?

I've long harboured suspicions that there's a dark side to Peppa's personality. Early on in the first series she exhibited signs of a selfish streak; see Best Friend (series 1, episode 3) where she won't let her little brother George play with her and her friend Suzi Sheep, thus reducing him to tears. She's not adverse to…