Status anxiety

‘Yes,’ I said, punching the air. ‘Daddy got the highest score’ — and other triumphs

3 November 2007

Toby Young's half-term report

It turned out that the only premium ride she was able to go on was ‘Tomb Blaster’, a ghost train in which the passengers are equipped with laser guns. We duly joined the ‘Express’ queue and eventually took our seats in a carriage. It was at this point that I discovered you scored points for each ghost you ‘killed’ and that if you got a high enough score your name would be entered into a Hall of Fame.

‘How does this gun work, Daddy?’ asked Sasha.

‘Not now, darling,’ I said, holding my ‘blaster’ at eye level and squinting into the darkness. ‘I have some important business to take care of.’

When we emerged back into the light, five minutes later, I was drenched in sweat and my trigger finger was virtually paralysed from over-use, but I had managed to rack up a score of 18,900. I then forced Sasha to wait while I inched my way along the platform, methodically checking everyone else’s scores.

‘Yes,’ I said, punching the air. ‘Daddy got the highest score.’

The following day, Sasha announced that she wasn’t all that keen on accompanying me on any more excursions. Would it be OK if she stayed at home and did some colouring instead? I guess the trip I had planned to the Emirates stadium will have to wait until the Christmas holidays.

Toby Young is associate editor of The Spectator.