Aga bloody doooooooo.

Halloween might be over for some but this mummy is definitely unravelling as the nightmares continue in Rufus’ household.

10 years of this mothering lark and I would have said Lego, football sticker cards and interrupted sleep were the most effective forms of Mummy torture. Until last week that is, which is when my noisy little tribe of Ratbags upped the ante and have taken the meaning of suffering to a whole new level.

Forget water boarding, spider nests or a full biscuit tin when you’re on a diet.

We are 10 days. Yes 10 FULL days (thanks to half term) into their latest obsession.

4 boys who have kept any sign of singing or musical ability well hidden are all completely and utterly addicted to that masterpiece and well known pop classic Agadoo. Do. Do. And there is absolutely zero sign of it abating.

I have no idea which teacher first inspired my 6yr old but they will definitely feel my appreciation reflected in their end of term Christmas gift.

At first it was tolerable, almost charming as we ran through the lyrics. You know, pushing pineapples whilst shaking trees but by Day 3 I broke.

The “one rendition an hour” law was swiftly followed by the “sing it in your head” law.

Sport Billy thought I was being a bit pre-menstral but he lasted a mere six hours before installing an outright ban.
However this ban only took effect after he thought it wise to teach them the alternative AgaPoo Poo Poo version.
This has predictably given it a whole new lease of life.
A bit like martini it seems AgaPoo is good for anytime, anyplace, anywhere. And it only takes one to start with the AaaaaaGaaaaaaaa bit and no matter where the others are scattered, they stop what they are doing and all join in for at least four choruses.
Brilliant. Especially when I’m trying to parallel park my beast of a mumwagon or at the checkout in Sainsburys.
And just when I thought I could cling to the knowledge that Wednesday would give me a few hours reprieve as they are all back at school or nursery, I woke with an Aga ear worm.
Noooooooooooooo.
Give me a torch and a burning desire to investigate a dark, damp cellar belonging to Buffalo Bill any day of the week.
Have a good evening folks, I’m off to try on my white jacket and fiddle with the strapping xxx

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