This post is not about Andy Robinson the England coach, who has finally "fallen on his sword" this week.

He has not decided to "lie back on his sword" as some clown on Radio 5 said at around 6pm on Tuesday night, when I was driving to my nightshift. In a calmer world I would have been straight on to Private Eye's "Colmanballs" section (you know the stuff - "And Juantareno opens his legs and shows his class" - David Colman) but I see from this week's edition that I wasn't. Straight on to them, that is. However they HAVE printed a rather amusing job as advertised at Clarke's restaurant in Bath, where they want a

"Sioux Chef"

apparently.

Anyway, this isn't about him. It's about my youngest son,aged 2 1/2, who for the sake of his anonymity we shall call ...oh, I don't know. Rupert? Arnold? Tarquin?

Ok, this won't work unless I reveal his name, so you'd better respect his right to remain anonymous because he's family and you don't want to be swimming with the fishes wearing concrete boots do you? Capisce? [...please - someone enlighten me...]

So the only people I can think of who share his name are Roosevelt and that lovable tortoise on Channel 5 who learns an important lesson about life every day at about 6:45 am. Right, now we've cleared that up....

More clues? OK you sluggards, think soul singer Aretha or inventor Benjamin.

More clues? OK you sluggards, they named a mint after him. And he's not called Polo, or Trebor, even though that is Robert backwards.

OK? It sounds a bit like the rotary engine guy: Wanklin*. Which will have to do for now, because I need to be somewhere else and I haven't even started yet!

His latest thing seems to be doing stuff wrong and then telling himself off about it.
EG Attempting to juggle with rolled up bin bags and then saying "Don't throw, Wanklin.
EG This morning, saying "Put Wanklin in the washing machine no Wanklin you're too big."
[I did worry for a few moments about whether this was childish inventiveness or reported speech. Hello? Social Services?]

But my favourite moment of last night's visit was when he initiated a mad game of hide and seek by hiding behind a door and shouting "Where's me?"

Gotta gettaway now....

You don't hear the phrase "Wanklin Rotary Engine" and forget it in a hurry. Maybe that would have been a better name*?

*No. It wouldn't.