I went to my niece's first birthday party on Sunday. It was lovely. She is lovely.

There were lots of people there with small children and many who were pregnant. I chatted to one such expectant mum, pregnant with her first baby, and noticed that she was wearing a badge. On closer inspection it read thus:


It might have been a joke. It might have said in very small print underneath "and if you don't like it then you can go fuck yourself". But I very much doubt it. I felt the vomit rise in the back of my throat and tried to resist the almost overwhelming urge to launch into a filthy Derek and Clive skit about the worst job I ever had, removing the lobsters out of Jayne Mansfield's arsehole.

Thousands of refugees who managed to avoid drowning over the summer are now about to freeze to death over the winter. Presumably that's fine as long as they don't do it within telepathic range of this woman's foetus. Rough sleeping in London has increased to Victorian proportions over the last couple of years. When this woman steps over the homeless I'm sure they focus on kittens and sunsets to ensure that little Tarquin doesn't run the risk of developmental impairment. And I hope none has the audacity to mutter an expletive within ten yards of her bump.


I may be being unkind here. It's entirely probable. Boris's stupid cycle highway is being built outside our office, a workman has been drilling under my window all day and I am feeling ratty. Nor do I mean to show any lack of respec' for the magic of pregnancy and childrearing. There is something wonderful about an expectant lady and the "baby on board" badges on the tube are brilliant. If only for saving me from a repeat of the situation in which I found myself some years ago, when I gave my seat to a woman who was obese rather than pregnant and who loudly scolded me before bursting into tears.

But seriously, "kind thoughts and polite words only"? How smug and tragic and pompous and awful is that?