In court the other day, I was trying to explain to a father that there was nothing that the court could do to help. The Child Support Agency were applying for a liability order in respect of about £5000 arrears of payments for his three boys. I advised that the court did not have power to alter the assessment or the amount calculated by the CSA. To cut a long story short, the only way he could avoid liability was by proving that he wasn’t the father (which was something he didn’t want to do).

Nevertheless, I let him have his say. He explained that he been paying previously through the CSA but had learnt that the money he had been paying was being used by his ex-wife to pay her ever increasing credit card debts. The boys were not seeing any of it.

He decided, therefore, to buy his boys clothes, shoes, CDs, books and other stuff. That way he could be sure that they would benefit. Paying out for these items meant that he couldn’t make payments to the CSA and he fell into arrears. That’s when he was summoned to court.

The court had no choice but to make a liability order. To rub salt into the wound, he was told that if he didn’t pay he could go to prison or be disqualified from driving.

Wife and kids eh? Who’d have ‘em?

‘This is where the big knobs hang out.’

It’s just bravado. Or nerves. Something to say and break the ice.

You see, among us men there is a fear that engulfs us when we approach a urinal for a wee. It’s founded on two main questions – ‘Will I be able to piss when stood between two other blokes that I don’t know?’ and ‘What if my cock is smaller than theirs?’ Call it stage fright.

Women don’t have to go through the same ignominy. In fact, it’s ironic. Women like to go to the toilet in groups (well, at least a pair) and when they get there they have their own private cubicle to piss in! There are men who count people in and out of the bogs so they know they’ll be the only one in there. Sometimes they take a risk and hope the one available cubicle is free – inevitably to find that someone is taking a dump or drugs in there.

Even when we’ve finished the fear factor remains. No matter how adept you are at squeezing every little drop out, there’s always one drop left that causes a wet patch in your groin area. And of course this only happens when you’re wearing light coloured jeans or trousers. I suspect women don’t have this problem – it may feel the same but at least it can’t be seen by all and sundry.

And I haven’t even mentioned splashback yet.

‘Ok darling. I’ll lock up and be straight up.’ ‘OK.’

So the night time ritual begins.

Washing up done (mostly).

Garage checked. Guinea pigs and rabbits secure.

All outside doors checked, double locked, bolted and checked again. Same with the windows.

All plugs and appliances switched off.

Dogs and cats accounted for.

Kids’ clothes ready for school the next day.

Lights switched off downstairs. Quick glance back as I ascend the stairs. Check each of the kids to make sure they’re safe and sound.

Upstairs lights off. Pull back the duvet to get into bed………………….

‘You couldn’t get us a glass of water could you?’