Due to the wonder that is a rural Irish Catholic background, I come from a somewhat unusual family, demographically speaking.
In an era and area of Ireland where the only contraception was pregnancy, potato harvesting, or death, never ending families were the norm.
The 2nd or 3rd 'accident', I'm the youngest of eight children, by quite a margin.
Take into account the fact that the rest of them are much older, are poster children for fertility, and that they got jiggy with it at relatively young ages, and the result is a flummix of nieces and nephews.
18 of them I believe.
This in itself is a bit of an issue. The very genes I share with my siblings are waving fertile chromosomes in my face and taunting me in unison.
Screams of 'jaffa' ring in my ears from the souls of long spent semen.
For Christ's sake, there was period in the 90's where you couldn't walk into any one of our family homes without slipping on a freshly expulsed placenta.
ALL up the duff, ALL the time.
Thankfully, I am zen personified, and for the most part I let this genetic mockery wash right over my lower than average head.
Having quoted Bonnie and Bono last time around, I'll now quote Bob - " The times they are a changin' "
These kids that resembled safari park monkeys as you approached their homes in the past, are growing up.
They have been going to college, working, living abroad, and I presume (while using all my strength to avoid mental images), fornicating.
In fact, six of them are in their early or mid twenties. You see where I'm going with this?
Sooner rather than later, one of them is going to report back that they have gotten themselves, or some other poor misfortune, knocked up.
No doubt the moment of impact will occur with a post cider party knee trembler up some side alley, or some other gesture of mockery at my own redundant efforts.
This simply can not be allowed to happen.
These people say things along the lines of "Yeah like, I was totally like shocked like n'stuff", they drink alcopops and other blue shit, they have rap songs for ring tones, they haven't got a clue how to spell words using vowels, and they've never even once seen an episode of Dallas, Dynasty or Falcon Crest.
Mother of mercy they have 'Bebo' pages for f&$% sake.
I will go ballistic if I receive one of these: "HI XBX JST A QCK MSG 2 LT U KNW I R PRGNNT. L8R UR FAV NECE"
If one of them informs me that I'm going to become a granduncle before I get ET knocked up I'm going to take a bath with a toaster, but not before I get into the ford focus and mow down all of humanity, showing no mercy to man nor beast.
A grandparent's brother.
I'm just warning you, that's all.