Good morning George,
You were born on 12.55am of Thursday, 13th December, a matter of hours ago… It was a freezing cold night and even now, as the light of the morning shines down, the frost is reluctant to leave. It’s a beautiful day – cold but sunny and bright. It’s the kind of weather where you want to wrap yourself up and go for a walk before returning home with rosy cheeks and feet that you can’t quite feel any more. But more than that, it’s a beautiful day because you’re here.
I’ve just received a text message from the proudest Dad in the world, telling me that you’re beautiful and that you entered the world after an 11 hour labour weighing 7lbs and 12oz. I wonder if, when you grow up and start having kids of your own, that babies will still be measured in this way, or whether a new method will have been invented? The future is impossible to predict. All you need to know is that there are many, many people who love and care for you and will do their best to make your future a healthy and happy one.
Being 31 years old, I’m looking back on my life and trying to think of some top tips for life, but I’m not getting very far. I should get out more. Okay, top tips: 1. Get out more. 2. Don’t answer your Mum or Dad back. 3. Don’t drop litter. 4. Or spit. 5. Say please and thank you. I’m rubbish at this aren’t I? Thing is, you’ll know all this, because you’ll be well brought up, so I may as well shurrup, as they say back home. What I can do though, is let you know what’s happening here and now so that when you and your friends discuss what the world was like when you was born, your encyclopaedic knowledge will leave them suitably impressed. Stick with me, kid!
1. Madonna is the best. Like, ever. This is a very important fact. If you ever want to borrow a CD, I will let you. But only you. You’re obviously special. No one borrows my Madge stuff. True fact. The last time someone borrowed a Madge CD, it came back with what looked like a skidmark in the booklet. I wasn’t impressed. I’m not normally grumpy, but I was that day. I’m not lending your Dad anything ever again.
2. The number one single in the charts is Bleeding Love and the number one album is Spirit, both by Leona Lewis. I think she’s ace, but I bet your Dad thinks she’s a howling banshee. Your Mum will know what I'm on about. When we were at uni, your Mum and Dad would come to see me (we were at different universities) and your Mum and I would sing and dance to Madge and Grease in my bedroom, whilst your Dad would sit on the bed with his head in his hands - perhaps because of my attempts at singing. Bummer.
3. The current Prime Minister is Gordon Brown. He’s a bit odd looking: Scottish, tubby, greasy hair and does this funny thing with his mouth in between breaths that makes him look as though he’s having a stroke. He looks like he’s clumsy, which is something I can sympathise with. I bet he spills his tea and his wife tells him off. He looks like he’s a master of the silent fart too.
4. The President of the United States is George Bush. We don’t like him. At all. No one does, not even Americans, but particularly Iraqis.
5. Fabio Capello is allegedly going to be named as the new England manager today. I’m not getting excited – he’ll probably be rubbish. They always seem to be rubbish. He’ll be succeeding Steve McLaren – a personality-free dullard who ruined our chances of getting to the European Finals next summer. Tsk. England never win anything. Ever. I hope this changes as you grow up, but it’s unlikely, my little darling. If I was you, I’d support someone better. Italy are the current World Cup Champions. We didn’t do too well at the World Cup – all our best players seem to break something prior to a big tournament (you know, like a nail) and then that’s that. And our goalkeepers are SHOCKING. In fact, we’re not great at anything… We came second in the rugby World Cup Final recently, losing to South Africa (pronounced Sith-iif-riyk-ah), but that was an achievement as we were predicted to crash and burn – like we do in the football. You will also be a Forest supporter. For your mental health’s sake, I hope they buck up soon. When your Dad and I were growing up, Forest were one of the best teams in the country. On a freezing cold, foggy Boxing day in 1992, me and your Dad made our way from Bestwood Village to West Bridgford without public transport. It was a nightmare. A bit like crossing the arctic, really (if your Mum and Dad tell you that I’m dramatic, DON’T believe a word.) Anyway, we got there and bought our first ever season tickets. Our elation turned to upset however, when the game was postponed due to the fog. Your Dad and I said lots of bad words and that season, we were relegated. More bad words ensued. On the last game, there was a big crush in the Trent End - this was when it was standing - and your Dad still laughs at me because I screamed. Pah! I could've been hurt! Anyway, it’s been downhill since then. We’re currently languishing in the third tier of football. It’s not pretty. But if you want pretty, I’ll fish you out a nice picture of Madonna. Remember, she is the best (after your Mum. That's allowed.)
6. We hate Derby and we hate Derby. We hate Derby and we hate Derby. We hate Derby and we hate Derby. We are the Derby haters… Sheep, sheep, sheep THINGYMEBOBS…… Baa!
7. I’ve just been looking at the headlines to impart some news of the day, but it’s all bizarre / depressing: America is iced over (shame), Man Utd fans got beaten up in Rome (shame), Britney Spears is in trouble for being off her face again (shame), some bloke is on trial somewhere where they have too much time on their hands for chucking a snow ball at someone (I mean, please…)
No doubt that we will look back on these events and laugh. And just think, in eighteen years time, I’ll be buying you a beer... Oh good lord, I’ll be almost 50...
I've just seen your picture for the first time and you really are beautiful. You've brightened up the darkest month in way you will never know. Welcome to the world, George…
Uncle Johnny Red Pants xxx