The party was in Sydney, now for a man that often struggles to motivate himself to jump on a tram and meet friends in a neighbouring suburb this was a big deal, huge even! But the lure of a grown up party was strong and I did it, I booked flights, babysitters, ironed a shirt and combed my hair. As is customary when things seem to be seamlessly in order everything went wrong. The party was from 6-9pm, my flight was booked for 3:50pm and I would arrive on time cool, calm and collected. I get a call at around 1pm from the babysitter letting me know that she won’t be able to make it, count to 10 Matthew, 1, 2, 3, faaaark!

I spend a small eternity on hold listening to annoying happy jingly music whilst waiting to speak to someone from the airlines customer service. I get through to someone, I remain calm, I tell myself I will go to the ball and I pay to reschedule for the next available flight at 5pm which would see my arrive fashionably late. I get to the airport, I check in, I drink a beer, I listen to a tannoy announcement saying that some poor bastards flight has been put back by two hours, I check my ticket and realise that I am that poor bastard. I order another beer and fight off the tears but inside I am sobbing my little heart out in an angry fashion. I would now be arriving at the party that ends at 9:00pm at 8:58pm and that is beyond fashionably late.

There is no going back now, flights and hotels are booked and I’m a little bit tipsy so my judgement is clouded, I’m still going, I drink another beer. The emotional rollercoaster that this day has become continues to unfold when another tannoy message announces that the earlier one was a bit premature and that the flight has now been brought forward by an hour to 6pm, emotionally I was a bit angry, a bit tired, a bit happy and a bit drunk; what I needed was a drink to calm my nerves.

I boarded the plane, as a long legged individual I had the benefit of extra legroom which was offset by the fact that I was the person who had to save everyone in the event of an emergency, I found it a struggle to fasten my seatbelt. I had another beer to stop myself from falling asleep. Touchdown, taxi, venue! I put on my game face, casually nodded at some of the other party goers as if we went back years and made my way to the bar, “the drinks are complimentary this evening sir”, this was already the best first birthday I had been to by quite some distance.

I woke up with the sort of hangover that makes you vow to never touch a drop of alcohol ever again. The one where your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and has the same texture of sand paper. The one where your breath smells like you were licking a pub floor at closing time. The one where the slightest movement makes you feel like your head could actually break into lots of little pieces. The one where you look in the mirror and you don’t want to acknowledge the reflection as your own. The one where you wonder whether all those jokes you thought were hilarious the night before were in fact worse than your usual ones.

I’ve tried lots of different hangover cures through the years from milk the night before to hair of the dog to greasy food; they all have their limitations. On Friday morning I found the best cure yet – waking up in a beautiful Hotel. A powerful shower to blast away the cobwebs, a fluffy robe that feels like a hug from Mum, a Do Not Disturb Sign that is lost on Max and best of all a buffet breakfast. You can always tell the people who don’t stay in a hotel much by the excitement they display when studying and planning their strategy to tackle the buffet. I don’t stay in hotels often and I was genuinely excited, I planned for a four course breakfast starting healthy and getting more greasy towards the end. I necked three revitalising juices and a cleansing juice and I felt strangely revitalised and cleansed. So my hangover cure is to recover in a Hotel, it’s not the most practical and it may be the only time I recover in such extravagant surroundings but it worked.

What is your go to hangover cure? When was the last time you vowed never to drink again?

Impromptu Meetings – Do not turn up 10 minutes before the start of a school day and expect to have an in-depth analysis on the latest concerns you have about your child’s development. Those ten minutes are set aside for last minute preparations and a bit of healthy panic. Make an appointment like you would to see any other professional.

Teachers are Teachers – I once had a parent ask me if I’d be a father figure for her son, whilst that might unknowingly happen during the course of teaching, she was asking for something else, something that extended beyond school hours. Teachers are not interested in being your friends, they may be friendly but ethics and discretion dictate that friendships are not wise. A colleague of mine found herself in the unusual situation of being asked “how are you’re boobs?” by one particularly fearless and inquisitive Dad after she had come into school to show off her little boy to colleagues.

Be Receptive to the Concept That Your Child is Not Perfect – Teachers will not always give you the glowing feedback you were hoping for. They are not making these things up, there is not a collective school wide conspiracy against your child and they are not necessarily being led astray by the child that you secretly hate. Sometimes it is possible that your little cherub is just being a pain in the arse. A parent once contacted me to complain that her child was not selected for the school netball team, the fact that she was not very good at netball didn’t occur to this particular parent who vowed to “take the matter further”, insert expletive here.

Find a New Hang Out – Different schools will have different policies on this but at one of the schools I taught at parents would congregate outside the classroom about twenty minutes before the end of the day. They would have a little chin wag, wave at their children, hold their finger to their lips when their child screamed “Mummy!” and then repeat the cycle. Some teachers will politely ask you not to but all teachers would secretly like to tell you to piss off and chat somewhere else. Some parents take this to the next level and actually come into the classroom when you are teaching to talk with you, this used to send my pissed-off-o-meter through the roof.

Teachers Not Babysitters – Do not drop your children at school and wash your hands of their education. Teachers can only do so much and if you want your child to be the genius you’ve always suspected they are you must play a part in that too. Read to them, ask them about their days, help with their homework, come into school to help out when asked and generally share the load, you might even enjoy it?

Presents – I was once bought a bath mat to say thank you for all my hard work throughout the year. It’s an awfully big assumption to assume that you have an understanding of my taste in bath mats and an even bigger one to assume that I actually needed one; most people have that area covered. I don’t want 20 boxes of chocolate, again my taste in chocolate is quite specific and a box of peppermint creams will not cut the mustard. What I and nearly every other teacher I have known appreciate most is wine, give me a bottle of claret and your child and all their siblings will receive gold star treatment for the remainder of their stay.

Love Thy Teacher – Teachers cop a lot of flack. Don’t get me wrong you get some duffers thrown in but that’s the same in all professions. It baffles me that people hold such negative opinions of those who teach others to read and write. People who consistently give up free time with their own children to plan and prepare for other peoples. People who spend as much time with your children as you do yourself. People who do all of this for a meagre wage and not a lot by way of thanks just because they care and they can.

And just for laughs I was once taking a Prep PE class. I had all the little dears lined up and eating out of the palm of my hand (not literally). One of the Preps, a particularly boisterous young man, stepped out of line walked towards me and prodded my penis. I must have missed the lecture on how to deal with that one and instead gave him the benefit of the doubt that he didn’t have a full grasp of the human anatomy. He then steps back into line and declares as loud as he could possibly manage “I just touched Mr Ross’s penis!” A court case flashed before my eyes – “I touched Mr Ross’s penis today Mummy”. In order to negate this from happening I had to inform my female Principle and then have a meeting with the Mum. I think for two weeks there were group emails going back and forth titled “Prodder (I’ll call the boy prodder, it seems to fit) and your privates”.

As always linking up with Jess at Essentially Jess

My employers were supporting our Visa application, they held the power and they knew it and they insisted that I return to work on a full time basis. Compounding my anger, bitterness, resentment and lots of other unhealthy emotions was a side serve of panic. We have no family in Australia that can assist, we have no place in childcare, what we do have though is a Dad who shows potential.

Rationality goes out of the window a little bit where the welfare of your child is concerned – is he up to it, will he be able to hack it, will he drop him are all questions that went through my head. I wrote lists and lists and lists of what to do and what not to do. That first day back at work was the longest of my working life and I phoned Matt so many times that in the end he switched his phone off. Remarkably I got home that night and father and son looked okay, maybe even happy, the house not so much.

There were definite perks to going back to work and in truth work felt like a little break in those early days. The more time goes by though, the harder it is to walk out the door each morning and say goodbye to my two boys. Matt tells me about all the little adventures they get up to, the latest developments and the challenges that have peppered their day and as much as I want to hear all of these things it’s incredibly difficult to feel like I’m parenting vicariously through Matt.

Ultimately though things are the way they are because it works for us. It helps that we both have an appreciation of what each other does, I can tell when he’s had a bad day with Max and I appreciate the need to vent, swear a little and drink some wine. Likewise he knows what it’s like to go to work and miss out on the bits and pieces that are parenting.

Matt has stepped up to the plate and surprises me on a daily basis with his commitment to raising a happy, healthy and loved boy and his lack of commitment to housework. He has found a way to make an income from home which is an unexpected bonus. Don’t get me wrong, I am still waiting to be showered with gifts and holidays, a girl’s got to dream, but he is doing something constructive with the scraps of time he can spare.

Hopefully one day I will get to be 24/7 Mum again, I miss being that woman. I miss sharing the experience with other Mums, I miss being the first person he calls out to when he needs someone, I miss seeing him change in front of my eyes and ultimately I miss ‘just’ being Mum.

Root vegetables, beans and pulses can be used to bind patties but the vegetable that will work best with smoked trout and dill is the humble potato. If that potato happens to be floury and fluffy you won’t even need egg or breadcrumbs to prevent the disaster that is a fragile fishcake. It would be good to add a bit more green and another level of flavour, one way I get Max to eat spring onion is to add it to mashed potato; the Irish call this Champ I call it mashed potato and spring onion. And there you have one oversized paragraph that reveals the method to the madness.

Ingredients (Makes 6-8 patties)
1 smoked trout
1 bunch of spring onions (the greens only)
4 medium floury potatoes (Maris Piper, King Edward, Coliban)
A bunch of dill
A little olive oil to fry
That is all

Directions
Preheat your to 200 degrees C. Take a fork and repeatedly stab your potatoes like they did something wrong and put them in the oven. Baking the potatoes delivers the most fluffy results and this recipe is all about fluff, if time is your enemy you can bake them in the microwave.

Meanwhile remove the flesh form the fish. The skin will peel off in one long and pleasing strip if you make a little nick up around the neck (do fish have necks?). Take a fork and place on the spine (like yours it runs down the middle of the back) of the fish and gently pull towards you. The fish will come off in nice big flakes leaving behind a Tom and Jerry like fish skeleton. Break the flakes up into a bowl (keep an eye out for any rogue bones)

Chop up the spring onion greens and finely chop the dill.

Once the potato has cooked scoop out the flesh and combine all the ingredients in a bowl and season with salt and pepper.
Using your hands (obviously) take the mixture and roll it into patties the size of a kittens head. If you want to joosh them up a bit sprinkle some sesame or poppy seeds either side.

Add to a pan with a small amount of hot oil (add more for further crisp factor) and cook on a medium heat, turning when the edges look nicely crisped.

Further jooshing for yourself or the more discerning child could be in the form of a creme fraiche or yoghurt , lemon and dill sauce. Bon appétit peeps! This is one of those meals that can be enjoyed by the whole family and comes in under $15

It’s fine I’ve actually watched all of the Peppa’s, the next one is not out for a couple more days. I’d love a gin and tonic though with a squeeze of lime.

“Quickly pull your trousers down”

Oh you mean him, sorry of course, excuse me I’ll just do these back up.

“You have THE most delectable bottom in the whole world”

Thank you very much Mrs Under yours isn’t too bad either. You don’t think it’s too……ah you’re talking to Max aren’t you?

“Dinner time! What would you like?”

Ooh this makes a nice change! How about that lovely spaghetti dish you did that time with prawns and chilli?

“That outfit looks amazing on you. All the girls are going to be checking you out”

It’s just something I threw together, it was literally the only clean thing in the wardrobe. And don’t you concern yourself with other girls, you know I only have eyes for you. Hang on why are you walking away?

“Stop poking and prodding your doodle or else it’s going to drop off”

I wasn’t poking or prodding, I was making a minor adjustment. Is that true that it can drop off?

“Come on off to bed with you, I’ll tuck you in and read you a book”

But it’s only 7:30pm? This is when I like to collapse on the sofa and complain about the dire state of Australian television shows. Unless of course it’s a steamy Jackie Collins title you’re offering? You weren’t talking to me were you?

And so most weeks for the briefest of moments I get my hopes up that I may be the beneficiary of some Max treatment. Slowly I am learning that I have slipped down the pecking order and I now occupy a place somewhere between the goldfish and Max’s Thomas the Tank Engine collection. It’s taken me 33 years to get here but I think I have finally arrived at the realisation that it’s not all about me.

Does this sort of honest misunderstanding take place in anyone elses households or is it just mine? Can anyone add to the list?

Some turn to toddies for the medicinal qualities that citrus, spice, heat and alcohol bring to the table, but I drink them with or without a sniffle, in fact sniffle-less is more pleasurable. Whiskies are far ranging in their subtleties and ideally you will taste a few to find ‘the one’. For any entry level whisky sceptics I recommend a nice, sweet bourbon and your local bottle shop will steer you in the right direction I’m sure. If you’re all about rum a spiced rum ticks boxes too. Recipes are generally there to be tinkered with, use them as a guideline and tweak to your taste, the addition of orange zest was all my own but works really well. I also have a hunch that using a bit of warm ginger beer would works wonders too.

Toddies taste better in front of a fire, so if you have one light it up and get cosy, blankets are good too. I picked up an old chiminea at a bric a brac market recently and it’s become my winter companion. I get lost in it’s flickering flames and warm embrace, my inner Neanderthal can’t get enough. Don’t judge me but I’ve taken to filling my coffee cup with a nice toddy for afternoon strolls in the park with Max, father and son have never enjoyed the park so much!

Ingredients (for each toddy)
60ml water
5 cloves
Cinnamon stick
3 slithers of peeled ginger
1 strip of lemon peel
1 strip of orange peel
60ml whisky
2tsp honey
1-2 tsp lemon juice

Directions
Put the water in a small pan along with the spices and peel over a low heat. Bring to a gentle simmer. Meanwhile rinse a heatproof glass with hot water and dry.
Pour the whisky into your warmed glass and then pour over hot water and spices. Stir in the honey and lemon juice, taste and adjust to how you like it.

What do you turn to to warm you’re cockles when things get frosty?

Before you could say “g’day mate” we set about filling our 2 bed unfurnished apartment with all the necessary bits that make somewhere habitable. I’ve never had that immediate need for everything before, turning up and having to buy a doona, cutlery, chairs and so many other bits and pieces that day was not a whole lot of fun. 6 years in and our little home feels a bit more like home having accessorised with the little gems that you stumble across at your own pace. I thought I’d share some of my favourite niks and naks with you; they all contribute to the story of our life Down Under.

Type Writer – I found this type writer in hard rubbish, in England there is no hard rubbish and it still blows me away what people throw out, it has to be the most efficient form of recycling? I used to get Anna to drive around the suburbs when it was ‘their turn’ and see what treasures I could find, it was like Op Shopping without the stale smell. I got a new ribbon for it and it works like a dream; I will occasionally sit down and write a letter to a relative or friend back in Blighty. I suppose it’s become more significant since I’ve started blogging, a little tip of that to what I love to do.

Surf Board – I had never surfed before I arrived in Australia and its now part of who I am and what I do. There is something restorative for mind and body about surfing, nothing else matters apart from the now. I won’t go any further without pointing out that I’m not a particularly good surfer, if you were being cruel you might even go as far as to say bad; but I love it all the same. This is my first board, it’s big and clumsy like me but it is symbolic of how much my life has changed since being down here.

Resin Leaf – I got this for Anna for Mother’s Day. I could sell you a line about the leaf representing our love for each other which will never change, but that would be a load of old bollocks. I just think it’s really beautiful. I got it from an artist in Tasmania, that’s where they all hang out and I love it to the point that I think it might actually have been one of those presents that is actually for aimed at yourself.

Chiminea – I picked up this old chiminea at a bric a brac market recently and it’s become my cold weather companion. There is something very evocative about lighting a fire, it takes me back to all those old camping trips and some great memories I shared with friends back home. It extends the evening now that it’s getting dark and we often find ourselves out there in the pitch black under a blanket, staring into the it’s flickering flames and sipping red wine.

Retro Chairs – Another hard rubbish find, they looked ever so sorry for themselves with tatty stained material, springs bulging out of every angle, nasty orange varnish and broken arms. We had never restored furniture and always thought it would a bit of fun. Well it wasn’t much fun, it was a lot of hard work but we sanded, re-sprung, re-covered, re-attached and we ended up with two pieces of furniture that we love and I know will come with us wherever we go next.

Sideboard – Whenever I fancy a Sunday to myself I head down to Camberwell market for a wander and a rummage through the many stalls. Most of it is tat but that makes it all the more rewarding when you find something you love and nab it before anyone else. I saw this sideboard and noticed a lady talking to the stall owner about it. Without knowing how I was going to get it home I stuffed $20 into the stall holders hand and asked him to hold it for me while I went to get the rest. It cost me $150 and some dagger looks from the lady, no harm done. Apparently it came from an old private school; it’s got a beautiful solid wooden frame with metal legs. It might not be for everyone but this is my favourite piece of furniture.

Mixer – I picked this up for $10 at a garage sale which just happened to be on the same day as Anna’s birthday. It’s big, heavy and pleasing on the eye. I copped so much shit about giving her a second hand $10 mixer for her birthday but she loved it and I knew she would, she shares my love for a bargain. Baking has never been so easy and come the weekend there is generally something in the oven wafting just baked smells around the house.

Max’s Hand Casting – I got these done for Mothers Day last year. I did it largely out of panic and lack of alternative inspiration but I love them so much. They came out so clearly and they hang in the garden and serve as a reminder of just how little my little boy once was. The caster offered to inscribe them or varnish them but I love their simplicity and they are very dear to me.

There you have it, our life Down Under brought to you by the objects we have surrounded ourselves with. What are the little treasures that mean most to you?

Date Night – Tuesday 7th May

Venue – Swing Dancing at Copacabana in the so hip it hurts Collingwood with 1929 Studios

Cost – $14 Per Class (the lovely people at 1929 Studios let us come along as guests)

Dress Code – Mr Under- Shirt and pants with lots of room to swing. Mrs Under – A cute polka dot dress cut to the knees

I love film and cinema and one of my favourite films growing up was called Swingers, not that kind of film. The lead guy is an out of work and unlucky in love actor. He finally gets the gal when he blows her away with a hot and steamy swing dance. The very clear message that I took from this film was ‘swing dance and women will fall at your fancy feet’.

Since then I have bagged the gal so tonight was all about showing her a good time. I met Anna all those years ago on the dance floor and it’s fair to say she knows how to move. I on the other hand don’t, I know how to move un-rhythmically and a little awkwardly, tonight I was prepared to take one for the team knowing that she would have a ball.

I picked the good lady up straight from work and greeted her with “fancy a dance?”. We sped over to the other side of town where the cool kids like to play and joined a fairly lengthy queue, swing dancing is very popular it would seem. “Pop your name badge on and join the group”. I don’t like name badges, they infer some sort of socialising, maybe even mingling.

We took our places in the ‘circle of doom’ or ‘impending joy’ depending on whether you asked me or Anna. Our Latin Snake Hipped Instructor took to the stage, you could audibly hear a collective “ooohhh” from the lady-folk. We did a warm up which was lots of fun, but the fact that I found it quite challenging did not bode well for the actual dance steps.

After being taught the correct stance Snake Hips yells “swap partners”, my immediate thought was that this lends itself to some great ‘swinging’ material and my second thought was, oh shit I am going to have to share my incompetence with a room full of female strangers. I have never been speed dating before but I imagine it’s fairly awkward; this was speed dating with dancing thrown in.

It was hard to tell what Anna enjoyed more about the evening, the thrill of dancing and learning and getting dolled up or the thrill of watching me visually display my ownership of two left feet over and over again. I will say that despite my lack of actual ability I had a blast, there is something invigorating about throwing yourself into something that is outside of your comfort zone and emerging relatively unscathed.

Anna giddily ran over to me at the end of the class with a huge smile and a kiss by way of thank you, she enjoyed herself and for a couple of hours forgot that she was a Mum and for that any amount of temporary discomfort is well worth it. Conveniently located outside the studio was a pub and it would have been rude not to finish the evening with a well earned nightcap. Ladies put on your demanding voice and insist that your other half take you out dancing one night, you’ll have a swingingly good time.

The next Date Night Club is already booked in and ready to go and I can’t wait! When was your last date night and what did it entail? #datenightclub

I can remember when Max was a newborn and people would come over and get all up in his face doing the coochee coo thing. I can remember several occasions when we were sat outside cafes and Max would be bypassed in favour of the cute little French Bulldog or Toy Poodle at the table next to us. Some people genuinely prefer dogs to babies, which made me wonder how they compare to one another and whether we should have just plumped for a puppy.

Eating

Dogs eat anything don’t they? How nice it must be to throw something in a bowl being fully confident that it would not only vanish in seconds but it would be genuinely appreciated with begging for being a given. I will dock a point for the fact that they are fully capable of thieving the French Pastry that you thought was tucked out of reach. I will dock a further point for the foul stench that is dog food.

Babies are a little more high maintenance; most of what is fed to them is deposited on your shoulder. They like their milk straight from the nipple were as dogs are happy with a carton. Dogs are a little more self sufficient and don’t need spoon feeding although I’m sure some of the more indulged dogs may still get ‘spooned’. I will add a baby bonus point for the fact that some of the baby food pouches make for genuinely delicious snacks.

Puppies – 8 Babies – 7

Sleeping

I know all babies and all puppies are different but this has to be a big win for the puppy doesn’t it? You don’t often hear dog owners complaining about sleep deprived nights at the mercy of dream feeds, ear infections, dummy spits, teething, wet nappies, big bed envy, etc. A dog might be guilty of sticking their private parts in and around your face as a wakeup call or giving you a friendly lick but by comparison they are angelic.

Puppies – 9 Babies – 3

Pooping

There are pros and cons for both babies and puppies in this area. I have dog sat and I really do not like picking up the doodoo. With a baby you just wipe and dispose, but with canines there is a textural thing about actually touching it with nothing but a thin layer plastic between hand and pooh. Babies however are more prolific, they seem to churn out wee beige jobbies like they’re going out of fashion; I seem to remember getting through about 15 nappies a day in those early parent days.

Sometimes though puppies overstep the mark when it comes to self sufficiency, a baby will happily let you wipe up after them but in trying to be helpful a dog will gladly drag his bottom along your carpet without consideration for its colour or cost. Whilst neither job is particularly fun the clincher for me is the smell and dog pooh makes my eyes water.

Puppies – 6 Babies – 7

Givers of Joy

Puppies don’t have to work particularly hard to give joy, they are universally cute to look at and you would be hard pushed to find a puppy no matter how bizarre the breed that does not make you smile. They are man’s best friend, the ultimate loyal companion and to the best of my knowledge no baby has ever been described in such a way. Babies lack loyalty, they pretty much gravitate towards the person with the most milky nipple.

No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get Max to fetch a stick, roll over or give me his paw/hand. In fact I couldn’t get him to do anything I wanted him to, don’t tell him I said this but he used to bore me to tears. 1 puppy point is docked for their propensity to chew furniture and look pleased with themselves.

Puppies – 9 Babies – 6

Total Scores – Puppies 32 Babies 23
There you have it, anyone considering having a baby, perhaps you might want to get a puppy instead as my evidence conclusively proves that puppies are better than babies.

Flogging my blog with Grace at With Some Grace

Most Awkward

When Max was but a few weeks and had an annoying habit of waking up all through the night I would generally do my share of the settling. One night the familiar cry goes out, I whisper into Anna’s ear “I got this one” and make my way towards the bassinet. I pluck the little man out and start rocking him in my arms. Given the fact that we were in the heart of a barmy Melbourne summer, I was completely starkers. The I started hearing footsteps coming from the other side of the house. This would be a good time to explain that my mother in law was staying with us.

I was still under the impression that Max might break if I ran so I proceeded to press myself right up against a wall. There you go MIL you can see my bottom but I’ll be damned if I’m going to give you a glimpse of the crown jewels. MIL seemed less embarrassed about the incident than I did, indeed she seemed fairly comfortable and even stayed for a little bit of a natter, with me all the while pressed against the wall as if I were trying to make a naughty stamp of myself.

Most Embarrassing

So I was in a gym about to get on the treadmill, I was concentrating on untangling my headphones that had somehow knotted themselves about 100 times. So focused was I on this task that I hadn’t realised that some total douche bag had actually got off the treadmill and left it running, fast.

I stepped on it and both my feet flew out from under me, I instinctively grabbed hold of the barriers and hung on for dear life. Then I realised how stupid that was and let go. When I gathered my composure and baring in mind this played out in a busy gym full of image conscious fitness junkies, I realised I had a friction burn on my chin and nipples.

Most Cringe Worthy

Once upon a time I started a new job, it was my first day and I was eager to make a good first impression. I was being given a little tour of the building by my manager who was an attractive 30 something gal. I was doing quite well, lots of good questions, a few gags, nodding of head and interested expression when she was talking.

And then we got in a lift and the conversation suddenly dried up. I panicked. I was reaching around in my head for something, anything in fact. I noticed that we had something in common. We both sport a mole on our lower lip, the sort of mole that has led to cruel jokes about Coco Pops and such like. “I like your mole, I have one too”. WTF? Cringe.

And there you have it; I hope that gave you some grubby sense of pleasure because I want mine now! What have you got?