MY CAR, INT, DAY. I AM TAKING DAUGHTER AND DAUGHTER’S BEST FRIEND TO THE CINEMA.
DAUGHTER: I love horror films. But I hardly ever get to watch them.
ME: (listens quietly, safe in the smug knowledge that daughter has never actually seen a horror film)
BEST FRIEND: This might sound babyish, but horror films give me nightmares.
ME: That’s not babyish at all, pet. Lots of people feel like that.
BEST FRIEND: What, even grown-ups?
ME: Yep, even grown-ups.
DAUGHTER: I saw a horror film once and it gave me nightmares.
ME: (first tinge of unease)
DAUGHTER: My Uncle showed it to me.
ME: (experiencing that curious state where you both know for sure this would never happen, and simultaneously have the faintest nagging feeling that it just possibly might have)
DAUGHTER: It gave me nightmares for weeks.
ME: (mentally reviewing contents of my brother’s extremely extensive horror collection)
DAUGHTER: It was about this boy who kept dying, over and over again. It was awful.
ME: Oh, right – ! No, that wasn’t a horror movie; it was a public information film.
DAUGHTER AND BEST FRIEND (incredulous): A public information film?
ME: Yes. They were on the BBC and everything, during children’s programmes and so on. They were meant to scare us into not doing stupid things. They used to make us watch them at school sometimes.
(Appalled silence in the back of the car)
ME: Now I come to say that out loud, it sounds quite bad.
(more silence)
DAUGHTER: No wonder Uncle Ian is the way he is.
ME: Yeah, that sounds about right actually.
(ENDS)
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