“I read your blog today in my free period,” said Bee, as I prepared her a wholesome dinner of beans on toast. “It wasn’t that great. I don’t really like it when you try to be serious. No offence. Constructive criticism and all that.”

Indeed. Such tact and diplomacy these teenagers have.

“You just like it though when I write down funny things that you’ve said don’t you?” I replied.

“Well yeah, cos that’s the only bit that’s funny.”

I decide to call her bluff. “Go on then,” I challenge her, “say something funny.”

“Do you want to hear some dead baby jokes?”

“No.”

“Well I can’t be funny like that just on the spot can I?” she flaps. “Urgh, OK, hang on, I know…”

There’s a long pause, while she straightens her face and composes herself, and then she whispers, “Boobies!”

Hilarious.

“Oooh, oooh, I’ve got a joke!” she says. “What do you call a dog with no face?”

“I don’t know, what do you call a dog with no face?”

“Dog-not-face!” She collapses into hysterical giggles. “What do you call a cat with no face?”

“Cat-not-face?” I hazard a wild guess.

“Yes! How did you know?” She’s bent double now. I’m clearly missing something. “What do you call cheese with no face?”

Good grief.

“Normal cheese!” she say. “Cheese doesn’t have a face you know.”

“Well thank you darling, that was all wonderful,” I say. “I shall go and write it all down now before I forget, I’m sure it will be a big hit.”

“Will you call it ‘The one where Bee is hilarious’?” she shouts after me, as I disappear off to find my laptop.

“Absolutely.”

…