I am walking through town minding my own business and then in front of me is an armada, a fleet of flimsy plastic and it's closing fast. In order to save my shins and to avoid the wrath of the psychotic drivers of these terrifying child-based battering rams I have to step aside and do so as politely as I can, to the utter indifference of Panzer Kommandant Parent.
I hate bloody push-chairs, but not as much as I despise their application. Whether it's idly blocking entire aisles or doorways, being nosed into traffic to get cars to stop for them, or as a people-plough they are always in the way! I'm not even sure why anyone would want their kid to be at exhaust fume and steel-toecap height anyway, perhaps they're sick of looking at them?
The worst thing is the newer breed of these contraptions which are designed with mountain bike wheels and exciting, utterly useless curves and even fucking disc brakes presumably in case you need to take a rapid off-road detour to get to the yoghurt section and not lose control on a patch of gravel while your navigator yells directions in your ear; "easy right, left, left! LEFT!"
I see one couple around town who always have their kid in a sling around their neck and shoulder. I've not once heard that child be upset or unhappy, he seems perfectly chilled out and if given the choice between a hammock and a shopping trolley to sit in, I think it's an easy decision.
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