My daughter came home today with her head in a bag. It’s either charming or terrifying, I just haven’t decided yet.
It was the last day of school before half term, so I was expecting her to bring home her PE kit, which only comes back for a wash during school breaks, and therefore is a) a bit whiffy and b) more wrinkled than the testicles of an elderly elephant that's spent too long in the bath.
Her brother was also weighed down with the drawstring bag/smelly trainers/shorts combo, and in addition a cardboard item which I think was supposed to be a telescope, but he insisted was a ‘fart torpedo launcher’. All fairly par for the course, to be honest.
The head took me by surprise.
“It’s my head mum. My actual head.”
“Well, when you say your actual head, that’s not quite right, because you’ve still got your actual head, this one is just a copy, sweetheart.”
“It’s not, it’s my head. My actual one.”
“Well, it looks just like your head, but you do know it’s not real, is it?’
“It is real. It’s got my glasses and everything.”
“OK. Whatever you say.”
I decided to capitulate over the decapitation before I got a headache. An actual one.
Video is Goldfrapp - Lovely Head