I GOT A PINK ONE, I GOT A PINK ONE, A PINK ONE, A PINK ONE, I GOT A PINK ONE!

We are at my parents. We are staying over. Polly and I are unfolding the kids bed and having a good argument.

"Can you pull the bed out 1cm?" says Polly.

"No, do you think you could possibly perhaps maybe just put the fucking sheet on the fucking bed without doing a strategical reorganisation of the bedroom?" I say not unreasonably. Or charmingly.

Meanwhile Mum and Dad have arrived in the bedroom. It's quite a small bedroom - just about big enough for a double bed once it's pulled out - with a very low ceiling.

"Is it too warm?" shouts Mum.

"I don't think so, do you think it's too warm?" says Dad

"I don't know, it might be too warm, but I'm not too sure, what do you think?" says Polly

"I don't know if it's too warm. Look, can we just focus on these sheets for fuck's sake?" I say.

"David," shouts Mum

"Don't say that David," says Dad.

"I'm sorry, I'm just a bit too hot," I say.

"It is hot in here, isn't it, maybe it's too hot?" says Mum.

"I don't think it's too hot, do you think it's too hot?" asks Polly.

"WHY IS EVERYONE ASKING IF IT'S TOO HOT? I DON'T UNDERSTAND, WHY DOESN'T SOMEONE JUST TURN DOWN THE SODDING RADIATOR," I shout.

Everyone starts shouting at once.

"DAVID, STOP IT,"

"ROS, TURN IT DOWN, IT'S TOO HOT,"

"IS IT TOO HOT? IS THE RADIATOR TOO HOT? IS IT TOO HOT? DO WE NEED TO TURN IT DOWN?"

"TURN IT DOWN, JUST TURN IT DOWN,"

"THE SHEET, JUST GET THE SHEET ON,"

Just at the point that I think I am actually going to die from a haemmorrhage brought on by the sheer mental challenge of trying to work out if we should turn down the radiator, the door crashes open and Mick comes running into the room.

"I GOT A PINK ONE, I GOT A PINK ONE, A PINK ONE, A PINK ONE, I GOT A PINK ONE!"

He is holding a pink one above his head.

As one, we all turn and look at Mick, grin and chorus..

"Have you got a pink one Mick?"