My grandsons have sensed weakness – and it’s costing me

The grandsons are putting two and two together. Grandad is always lying down and groaning when they video call and he has suddenly become a soft touch when asked to stump up for their material acquisitiveness. ‘By the way, Grandad, can I have the new Liverpool away kit? With Mo Salah on the back?’ ‘You certainly can my dear chap.’ ‘Oh and I forgot, can I get some Nike Air Force 1 basketball trainers?’ ‘The pleasure is all mine. I’ll get on to it right away.’ ‘Oh and I’m using Klynton’s phone because mine’s stopped working.’ ‘Gawd. So you need a new one?’ ‘Yep. Plus I need £100.’ ‘What for?’ ‘I can’t tell yiu.’ ‘I see. I’ll have a look at phones then, shall I?’

It really does give me pleasure to open the flood gates because they are good lads living by any measure below the poverty line. If it wasn’t for my dying largesse they’d get -bugger all, not even pocket money. Next week their father says he might be looking at a £650 fee to declare bankruptcy, which seems a lot of money to me to charge someone who by definition ain’t got none and can’t borrow any.

‘You do realise that this week you’ve asked for four hundred quids’ worth of stuff, which is a week’s wages?’ I asked one of the grandsons, plaintively, the other day. ‘Oh. Yiu don’t have to.’ ‘Sorry to carp, but it’s spelt YOU, not yiu.’ ‘What do yiu mean carp?’

The other day his school’s ‘safeguarding officer’ rang his father to inform him that Oscar was subject to a ‘serious’ safeguarding accusation of having touched a girl on the thigh.