Ryan, I'm gonna to take you down to China Town.

I have beef with Ryan. Every time I hear his name I get that feeling that I wanna load up my 45 smokeless. It's not a feeling I can control. It is a feeling deeply rooted in my brain stem. It's down there with the fight or flight, the draw to warmth and the rich bounty of umami. My attitude to Ryan lies below morality and the social norm. It is primal.

Ryan is three years old.

My daughter is four and she fancies Ryan. She comes home with talk of kiss chase... just with Ryan. She talks of bizarre games that she and Ryan play, that if they were adults would have Channel 4 documentaries made all about them. And today, just now, when asked, "What makes you happy?" she replied,


I aint got nothing against Ryan, but every time I hear his name the dad in me goes into a strange place that I didn't know existed.

The first time it happened (last week) my wife and I were staring at each other in an unknown stare. And when my daughter had run off after her proclamation of love or kiss chase or whatever it was, I placed my wife's hand over my heart and she had never felt it beat so hard.