It must be something about being a man, as it doesn’t seem to happen to the women. Whenever I appear, the plastic dinosaurs, farm animals, sharks or whatever are invariably making their way to my head – usually to bounce on it, chew my ear, eat my receding hair or to remove my eyes (all pretend you understand). This morning I was offered a chocolate and vanilla ice cream made out of a large ball of screwed up paper. As I opened my mouth to pretend eat it, it was pretend splatted on my head and I was told there was ice cream dribling all over me. Another pretend ice cream appeared which was pretend thrust into my ear. ‘You have ice cream coming out of your ear,’ someone said and then of course there were several other ice creams in my pocket, in my face and 1 inside my shirt. At that moment, S and C appeared with stickle-bricks guns they had just manufactured. ‘We are real soldiers,’ they informed me, ‘and we are shooting you.’  What should I do, die or carry on trying to lick up all this ice cream? Like the coward I am, I went to answer the door bell. There’s only so much you can take on a Monday morning.  When I came back, the female staff members were still engaged in their various activities with different groups of enthusiastic children – cutting out, reading, sticking etc. How come none of them were being killed or set upon by wild beasts, ice cream or wild children?!