Toy orby, son?

Showing my superlative organisational skills, both of my children were born in early March (round of applause please, folks. Thank you. Thank you very much. Nothing like receiving a big hand for your testicles).

In anticipation, my soon-to-be-six year old son has been preparing for his birthday since Christmas, because nothing puts you in the mood for getting presents like receiving gifts. To be fair, his Christmas requests were relatively moderate; an accordion ("NOT a concertina, Daddy!" Well, obviously), a car garage and a pair of castanets, all of which have been duly furnished and didn't break the bank. We ignored his desire for a swimming pool in the garden on the grounds that we don't have a changing room.

For his birthday, he was also quite modest in his desires, wanting only a "spinny disco light". And a shit load of chocolate.

We mused over this for a moment, pleased that it was relatively straightforward but concerned that we might be on our way to having an obese, toothless John Travoltoid as a son. Relenting, because it's not exactly drugs or booze or those joyride-encouraging Super Marilyn computer games that all the kids want these days, we fed a tenner to the ever-giving medium of the internet, and waited.

Happily, the item was delivered quickly (Five stars! Will come again!), and you can imagine how chuffed we were to discover that the very packaging appears to show it was designed utterly with the six year old in mind.

Look:

Firstly, it's the Brightly Light model , a marque you can trust especially as this version is the 829B, a vast improvement on the excesses of the 829A, although the  leather attaché carrying case and accompanying dance troupe would have been fun. They've also done away with the diesel powered option and it's plinth is no longer thirty metres across.

Pity.

One thing they haven't changed is the fact that it's dynamic know no bounds, because why change a winning formula? Dynamic know no bounds could easily be the description for the average six year old child, as demonstrated when one stops running only long enough to ask a fat bloke when the baby's due, or to joyously tell you they've just broken wind and it sounded like an angry hippo.

Clear labelling also informs us that, despite it's many serious medicinal and political uses, this is in fact a faddish present:

My son is nothing if not faddish. His fads last about a minute, so this is perfect for him.

The instructions seem straightforward. I must remember to avoid vibrations and dusty play, so that's the bedroom out, although it will be hard to stop my boy touching it's movement. For cleaning, I'll check if I've got any neuter soap left over from my vasectomy.

Judging by the traditional lamp hint design it seems simple to operate, as one simply turns on the iridescent glassy orifice with the plinth switch. My first thought on examining it was that it should suit not only my son's refined taste, but also his popular one as well. Happily, the packaging confirms that this is indeed the case:

They do use Model number 892C as the demonstration in this picture though, which I hope won't upset my son too much. Especially when I tell him the reason he can't have that one is because he just hasn't been good enough.

You've got to be extra good to get the 892C.