I’m always saying to my kids: you’re crap at that.

They are though, aren’t they? Telling your kids they’re crap is as much a part of the parenting job-description as telling them they’re brilliant.

My kid: But Mummy I weeeely weeeely want to play piano…

Me: I know but you’re weeeely weeeely crap at it so we’re stopping now.

Kid: But I weeeely weeeely want to get better at it Mummy…

Me: But you weeeely weeeely won’t ever, plus every time I help you practice a part of me dies and can only be brought back to life with gin so it’s time to quit. 

Kid: But you drink gin all the time anyway Mummy…

Me: That is WATER I’m drinking. WATER for Chrissake. Go to bed.

(Btw, yesterday in the supermarket as I selected my fav bottle of red off the shelf, youngest loudly declared: Oh THAT one Mummy – yes that’s your favourite, I see you drink that one ALL THE TIME. At which point I accidentally donked him in the face with it. Clearly he is crap at knowing when physical violence is imminent).

When I was a kid I weeeely weeeely wanted to be Sarah Brightman or Michael Crawford (Phantom of the Opera was huge for me), Liza Minnelli in the film Arthur, Madonna in the Papa Don’t Preach video, Adam Ant in his lipgloss phase, Mary Magdalene in the Jesus Christ Superstar movie, Karen Carpenter and Carole King and Michael Jackson.

Of course, I’ve left behind such unrealistic, childish dreams.

Now all I want is a ten-million pound three-book publishing deal, a mansion in Santa Barbara, a full-time nanny, a lifetime supply of Rioja and a new vagina.

But we all know that well-loved parenting phrase: I WANT doesn’t GET.

Unless you’re Boris Johnson, in which case you can totally go from irrelevant beige squidge to Prime Minister in the time it takes Samantha Cameron to get a Brazilian.

We could learn alot from our crap men at the top. At least they know when to quit.

Crap at being Prime Minister? Just have a little public cry and walk away.

Crap at being England Manager? Stop it now and make way for the next red-nosed loser.

Crap at pretending not to be racist? Give it up Fuhrer! Be honest and find your UKIP happy-place.

Crap at being leader of the Labour Party? Ah…well now that’s different coz even though he’s a foul-smelling streak of bearded communist piss (to quote Tony Blair) and even though all the people who work for him hate him and even though he’s completely unelectable and never ever ever smiles unless he’s at a SWP meeting, he weeeely weeeely WANTS to be leader pleeeeeze so he’s just gonna stick his fingers in his ears and go blur-blur-blur until all the haters go away and form a new political party called The Last Time We Checked We Had Policies That We Agreed On Party and Jezza can carry on being the leader of a few people who either once had sex with him or who have unresolved father-issues and want to be there with him in a few months time when he stands on the roof of the SWP HQ, waving a Soviet flag and yelping: I GOT JUST WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED! I BROKE THE LABOUR PARTY!

It’s enough to make you long for John Major and Tony Blair…or, you know…just a really, really long sleep…wake me up when it’s all over…