"Cough, cough, tossers, cough"
Make no mistake about it. Simple Minds was never more than a poor man’s U2. An 80′s footnote, saved from complete historical obscurity only by continued, nostalgic television repeats of the movie ‘The Breakfast Club’.
The lead singer, Jim Kerr, is now a portly Glaswegian ex-sushi restaurateur. Says it all, really.
Having clearly stated my position, I should point out that the title of this article is a direct reference the second (and thankfully final) blip on their otherwise flat-lining career. Because my unborn child is – in the Sashimi-stuffed-face words of Mr Kerr himself - “Oooh oh oh, alive and kicking.. ooh woh-oh-woh-oh-woh yeah.” (etc, etc, ad very, very nauseum)
Though, to be honest, prodding is probably a more apt description.
In fact, anatomically speaking, it’s hard to tell whether what I’m feeling is even a kick, a punch or, ironically enough, a Glaswegian Kiss.
It’s a sensation not unlike shaking hands with the effete husband of a wife’s colleague, moments before sitting down to dinner, and being presented with the loose, cold grip of a plucked chicken foot. Weak, but weirdly thrilling.
At least my kid has the excuse of being barely bigger than a Care Bear. A one centimeter foot on the end of a 2 inch leg (“Woah there fella.. easy on the Metric/Imperial double analogy!”) is unlikely to make much of a dent on the average abdominal wall. Not a lot of room in the womb for a decent swing, either.
It’s an unusual sensation, feeling similar to the gentle passing of a bolus of wind, just beneath the surface of the skin (in lay terms.. a fart). Which mean that, in the weeks leading up to the first kick, there was endless, confusing speculation as to what the hell we were supposed to be feeling anyway.
Every book, website, forum, and bloke-down-the-pub describes it simply as a ‘flutter‘. But what’s a flutter supposed to feel like anyway? Nerves before a big test? Constipation? A trapped gerbil?
They also say that, the second time round, with the benefit of experience, you will feel baby moving much earlier on. But what shitting good is that to us know? Huh!?
Still, I smell an opportunity to cash in on the many, expensive fears of first motherhood. It’s only a rough idea, but i’m thinking of some sort of electric touch pad strapped to the belly, causing muscle palpitations that resemble baby’s movement.
It could have the added benefit of toning pregnant abs at the same time… good for her, and good for him too!
Of course, it may also cause a miscarriage. Or, at the least, some sort of tinsel-haired electro-baby.
As I say, it needs work.
Till then, however eager we are to feel more, and stronger kicking action, we are ever mindful that, soon enough, we’ll be wishing our little cage fighter would learn to keep it’s GODDAMN HANDS TO ITSELF FOR A CHANGE!
