On the way to school this morning, George told me that he had finally decided on what he wants for Christmas. (I had previously told him that "no", he could not have a Grand Theft Auto Playstation game).
So he has whittled his wish list down, and he now knows exactly what he needs.
A Bazooka.
Not a toy one, mind you, but the real thing.
He had his pitch ready. He would be careful with it, and he would not let his sister near it.
How can you be careful with a Bazooka? "Its alright Dad, I'll only take out one bus full of innocent people", or maybe "don't worry Dad, I'll make sure I only hit the policemen."
Of course, it is still only mid-November, so he will change his mind dozens of times between now and when Santa pops in for a glass of Armagnac (I know its supposed to be Sherry, but like myself Santa is not so keen on that).
George still has plenty of time to discover the existence of nuclear weapons!
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