David Baddiel - The Parent Agency

His dad frowned. “It isn’t?”

“No.” Barry turned it round, reading off the back. “‘An all-star cast spoof the James Bond films in this hilarious 1960s comedy!! 007 has never been so funny!’ It’s a joke version! It makes fun of the whole thing!”

“Oh, Geoff,” said Barry’s mum. “You haven’t gone and got the one with David Niven in it?”

“I don’t know, Susan! I just went for the cheaper one on Amazon!”

“Da—” said Barry, and then realised he’d started to do the two-syllable thing again. Seeing The Sisterly Entity looking at him eagerly, as if willing him to do it, Barry made a fatal mistake. Which was to just repeat the first syllable again.

“…Da,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?” said TSE One, grinning madly. “Did you say… Da-Da?”

“I think he did , Ginny!” said TSE Two. “He said Da-Da . Like a baby. Like a baby trying to say its first words. To its da-da!”

“I didn’t! I didn’t! Shut up shut up shut up!”

“Barry, don’t tell your sisters to shut up!” said his mum sharply. Still no sign of her head above the dishwasher, though.

“Does Diddums want his dummy from his da-da!?”

“Or does he want Da-Da to change his Nap-Nap?!”

“OK, Ginny. Kay. That’s enough,” said Geoff, although not very strictly, and like he was trying not to smile. “But Barry, that’s enough complaining too.”

“No it isn’t! I hate you!”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yes! And Mum!”

And suddenly a feeling that had been welling up inside Barry for… well, since his dad had closed the door on Jake and Taj and Lukas just before tea, but in another way for much longer than that, maybe ever since he’d understood that, unfortunately, his name was Barry – a feeling that he wanted to both cry and shout and break something all at the same time – exploded out of him.

“I hate you because you’re boring! And tired ALL THE TIME! And always TELLING ME OFF FOR NOTHING! And saying, ‘That’s a swear,’ when all I’ve done is say BUM!”

“Barry. That’s a swear!” said his mum.

“NO IT ISN’T! And because you’re so much nicer to THEM…” He pointed at TSE. They both grinned at the same time. “…than to ME! And because…” Barry realised by now that he was doing the list in his bedroom. He decided to miss out Numbers 8 and 9 – ‘Not being glamorous’ and ‘Being poor’ – since even in his rage he knew that they might just sound a bit too horrible out loud. Especially as loud as he was speaking now. “And… YOU NEVER, EVER MAKE MY BIRTHDAY REALLY GOOD!!”

There was a short pause after he shouted this. Then Sisterly Entity One said:

“Write that down, Ginny.”

“I’m writing it down, Kay.”

“Right,” said Barry’s dad. “Well, if that’s how you feel, we won’t have a screening of Casino Royale on your birthday!”

“GREAT!” shouted Barry and he threw the DVD across the room. It spun round in the air as it made its way towards the sink area. Barry was secretly quite proud of the throw; his wrist had flicked sharply as he’d released the disc, like an Olympic discus champion.

“BARRY!!” his dad shouted. So loudly that, for the first time this dinner time, Barry’s mum looked up from the dishwasher. Just in time to be hit in the eye by a copy of Casino Royale , starring David Niven.

“OW!” she said, falling backwards and out of sight again. Barry heard a bump; then one of the egg timers, the red one, fell off the kitchen counter and smashed.

Uh-oh , he thought.

“RIGHT, BARRY, THAT’S IT! GO TO YOUR ROOM!” said his dad, pointing upstairs – stupidly, really, as Barry knew the way.

“ALL RIGHT I WILL!” Barry shouted back. And because he was a little frightened by now, he ran out of the kitchen as fast as he could, swerving at the last minute to avoid the bits of glass and sand from the egg timer which were sprinkled all over the floor.

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