Not Natural

Mr B and I have been watching this new TV programme "One Born Every Minute". For those of you who have not watched this, it is a documentary-type of programme which follows life on a labour ward. Each episode follows two women through the birthing process. There have been two episodes so far, and I have come to two very important conclusions about giving birth:

1. It is not fun.

2. It is (most definitely) not natural. The whole process must be some guy's idea of a very twisted joke. There is just no way that one of those is coming out of there (although it would support my earlier argument that my nether regions are some kind of tardis. Hmmm.)

Having said that, the programme itself has caused much amusement. In the two programmes we've seen, only one of the four women seemed remotely normal, with an apparently normal partner. We've seen one father-to-be lock his wife in the toilet whilst she was in labour (would you even dare), and another decide he is going to Burger King whilst his diabetic wife is waiting for her lunch, an hour after it was due to arrive. To add insult to injury, when she said all she wanted was a huge slab of chocolate cake, his reply was (I kid you not) "I could bring you a slice to look at" - delivered with the most dead-pan face you can possibly imagine. At this point, Mr B turned to me and said "You would murder me for that". He's not wrong ... probably.

Mr B and I have decided that if my plan to purchase our children from Asda / Tesco / Morrisons / Other Supermarket of choice, falls flat (and I am beginning to admit that this is a very real possibility) then there are certain "treats" which I should get for having to actually give birth. I am yet to find out whether these treats still apply if I have to have a C-section, but as I don't ever intend to have children (due to the fact that the aforementioned programme has put me right off the idea) this is an entirely academic matter. We have thus far agreed on an unending number of meals at my all-time favourite chinese restaurant (King Neptune's in Newcastle, just in case you were wondering, although Fortune Star in Lancaster comes a very close second), a lot of chocoate cake (and I mean a LOT) and the ability to play top trumps with absolutely everything for the rest of time by pointing at our offspring and saying "I gave birth to that" (and I don't mean "that" in any kind of pejorative sense before anyone calls in the child protection squad).

After watching the utterly shocking behaviour of the dads-to-be in "One Born Every Minute", we have made another list of things that will not be allowed to occur if I am ever unfortunate enough to end up having a child:

1. Mr B shall not be allowed to lock me in the toilet (thus preventing me access to drugs) on pain of decapitation (of the very literal kind)

2. The words "I am going for a Burger King" will never leave his mouth unless followed by "what can I get you?"

3. There will be no "looking" at chocolate cake. There will not even be the suggestion of bringing chocolate cake unless with the express intention of me eating it.

4. There will be no sitting around staring into space as though bored or stoned (or both), playing with medical equipment and (most importantly of all) using MY gas and air (yes, I am very possessive of the drugs).

I am sure there are many, many more things which should be added to the list, but I cannot think of them right now. All answers on a postcard please...