I met up with Suzanne in the Science Museum today and was treated to the delights of a museum full of screaming, hyperactive brats and their pathetic chinless-wonder parents.

Don’t get me wrong I love children, they are the future after all, and I say teach them well and let them lead the way. Well, if they’re mine that is. Everybody else’s can fuck right off and that includes those with trendy parents. What is it with these fuckers and their obsession with wanky pretentious names? A few of those heard today include:

• Harrison
• McVitie
• Cameron
• Marney
• Elise
• Olivia
• Petula
• Labia

Well I made the last one up, well actually I made the entire list up but I’m not that far off the mark. Honestly I’m not.

Each and every one of these mini-shits was tear arsing around the place, hitting switches, pulling levers and generally abusing the exhibits that had any kind of hands on potential.

Now I am all for kids learning by doing but please parents, have a bit of common fucking sense, explain to your sad eyed offspring why they are turning the wheel on the exhibit, don’t just let them stand there maniacally giggling as they spin it off its bearing.

It really pisses me off that parents think it’s their kid’s has right to do whatever the fuck it pleases because it’s a kid.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

It has fewer rights not more. If I want to look at an exhibit and your googly-eyed ugly Betty of a daughter is standing in front of it bashing buttons, without one iota of a clue as to what she was doing, you should either be dragging her off it and looking sheepish or explaining what the device does. What you don’t do is stand there encouraging her to be a fuckwad.

Learning isn’t some magical process, if you think that by letting your child repeatedly stab a button for ten minutes they’re going to turn into fucking Einstein, you’re wrong. There has to be at least a little bit of cause and effect going on.

(I should probably explain, that last one was a Pong exhibit. I get quite irrational around retro gaming stuff. The kid did deserve a slap though, it just stood there squealing and spinning the paddle, unable to grasp the basic concept of Pong. We’re not talking Gears Of War here, it was fucking Pong, the world’s most simple game.)

While I’m at I really take umbrage when hyperactive children, midway through some kind of Sunny-D overdose, run into me and then fall over. What’s worse, is when the feckless mummy of said child decides to glare at me as if I did it on purpose.

Look love, I’m not one of the cocking X-Men, I can’t just dematerialise at will. You need to control your child, teach them if their curly haired, ginger hued, Mick Hucknall looking head runs into my substantially larger sixteen stone frame at knee height, they are going to lose. They will get injured.

Funnily enough, that’s probably one of the few truly educational activities that kid took part in today.

Filed under: Ranting