A mate of mine is about to become a father for the first time. He’s terrified, which is sad because he’s genuinely the stuff dream dads are made of. I’ve been a parent for nine years now and have a fairly good sense of when someone’s got that pure paternal X factor. And boy does he have it. He’s calm, kind, playful and an extremely patient soul. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, even if the fly was talking trash about him on a neighbourhood WhatsApp group.
The problem is that his work colleagues are messing him up. They pour poison into his ear all day long: “Life as you know it is done.” “You’re nothing but a poo-encrusted slave from here on in.” “Your sex life is over.” “You’ll be a fat loser slob this time next year.” “It’ll be a miracle if you bond with your child.”
It’s dark and it’s sadistic and, weirdly, it’s dads telling him this stuff. This is not an…
