Amazing. Everyone else is singing 'Can we fix it?', 'They're two, they're four, they're six, they're eight' and 'C'mon Roary, one more lap' and my little boy is almost constantly singing, 'dud-dudle-uh, dud-ud-ud-ud dud dudle ud dud duh...' which - in case you haven't guessed - is the theme to Thunderbirds.
Now I like Thunderbirds. I love that theme. Personally, I think Kate and Will should have marched down the Abbey aisle to it last Friday. It's every bit the equal of Crown Imperial. But why is a three-year-old who has never seen the programme, in either its 'super-marionation' incarnation (super-marionation, I ask you! What was super about Parker bouncing along with his hands in front of him? Or Lady Penelope's rictus grin? And you could always - always - see the strings) or the Hollywood blockbuster celluloid version of 2004 suddenly doing going Thunderbirds crazy?
Well, I'll tell you the story. It happened - like these things have a habit of doing - at nursery. They've got a Thunderbird Four there, and Charlie's taken quite a shine to it. He hasn't reached the stage yet of surreptitiously slipping it into his pocket at home time, but I'm sure it'll happen. Anyway, he mentioned this in passing one day: you know, the 'what did you do at nursery today?' conversation. 'I played with Thunderbird Four' he replies. And I do a double-take, simultaneously interrogating him about his newly acquired knowledge of Thunderbirds vehicles while at the same time having a Proustian madeleine moment as I'm transported back to Thursday tea-time, after school (about 4.20pm if I remember rightly) kneeling in front of the telly and watching this...
Oh yes. Thuderbirds are go alright. But have you seen the price of the toys? Cheapest I can find is forty quid, and I'm not paying that even if it does come in the original Dinky box. No. So tune it on Thursday, when we'll be making our own Thunderbird Two, complete with detachable pod and - you've guessed it - Thunderbird Four