Who’s The Daddy Now?

Most of you will remember the infamous Mr. Paul Smyth from a youth largely misspent at a grand house in suburban Surrey. He’s since been living in Thailand for the past eight years and the opportunity to meet with an old friend in the southern island of Phuket is unmissable.

Some things will never change; Paul can still be more flaky than a snowstorm, has the attention span of a senile goldfish and the nocturnal habits of an amphetamine addicted night owl. But, he is also now a caring family man and the doting father of two charismatic children, Billy (8) and Jasmine (6).

Paul collects us with Snoop kickin’ it old school from his car’s customised speakers - like I say, some things will never change. We arrive at the crib and immediately take to the pool, where we are introduced to the spawn of Smyth - by way of top bombing!

Billy is a precocious young boy addicted to the digital pursuits of Pokemon and computer gaming, who is inexplicably named after Matthew’s alter ego. Jasmine is a proper little madam who lives most of her life in the water. She strikes an instant friendship with Flo and usually looks down dismissively at my attempts to tease her, saying, ‘Silly Uncle Lichard’.

Their Anglo-Thai accents are made even more endearing when ending sentences with ‘innit?’. For instance, ‘Daddy no good at basketball, innit?’

Hoop dreams
The main attraction playing at the pool is a newly assembled basketball hoop, and enough balls to exhaust the Globetrotters. Since I can’t play anything without a competitive edge, I insist on creating a game with a scoring system to separate me from the losers - I play for keeps!

However, Paul can controversially claim to be the reigning champion. There, I said it.

In my defence, I did gamble all of my earlier victories on a winner-takes-all final round that I believe was purposely sabotaged by Flo’s errant scoring and Paul casting away my favourite ball, ‘Wilson’ - not that I’m by any means bitter. Congratulations (ahem) champ!

Another changing face of Paul is that he’s not drinking - although he remains a 'menace to sobriety' by displacing his alcohol urges onto us. The first one’s free…and the rest, as Paul plies us with imported vodka while impressively sipping mineral water.

Bar visits are usually dictated by our self-designated driver, although we’re not sure if his wife, Am, knows this. And, our efforts to ingratiate ourselves to her aren’t helped by Paul’s amusing referral of blame - we seem to be his get out of jail card for the week and a ready made excuse for broken rules, including smoking from our bedroom window and leaving us with the guilty smell. Some things never etc.

Family Guy, innit?
It transpires that Am is not suspect of bad influences, but anxiously awaiting the delivery of her new car. A massive smile creases her face when it arrives and she is often caught standing at the door, staring in awe at the object of her affection.

It’s cause for celebration and we all go out for a memorable family meal where Am really is in high spirits, especially since we raise a toast to ‘My new car!’ with every sip of champagne that Paul seemingly produces from air - she is somewhat less excited the day after though:)

It’s also the occasion that I finally bond with my boy, Billy. He was slightly aloof to start and it takes my entire repertoire of child impressing antics (ie. drawing Homer Simpson, faking an arm wrestle, breakdancing and teaching the so-called secret handshake) but, by the end of the night, I am elevated to ‘best friend’ status.

It’s not a title I keep for too long - when a fixed game of Wii bowling goes horribly wrong. Paul had warned me not to win, but I afforded Billy enough intelligence not to try and lose too blatantly. It basically came down to a last roll, which I intended to purposely miss...but, somehow managed to topple nine pins and win the game by a single point. ‘Silly Uncle Lichard’

Since Billy has the same competitive streak as a certain other Smyth, I was worried what the reaction would be - especially, as we had put money on this! But, to his credit, Billy offered me his piggy bank. And, to my discredit, I took the money. That’s how I bowl!

It’s a pleasure playing with the children and we even offer to babysit one night, which happens to fall on the deciding game of the Premier League - we take a lesson from Paul's ice cream and Pokemon school of parenting for 90 minutes.

During late nights, it often feels as if we’ve been transported back in time to 62 Burdon Lane, sitting in a second lounge surrounded by the hum of home electronics. As you would expect, Paul has all the latest in home entertainment from high-definition screens to liquid nitrogen cooled games stations(!?) that allow us to resume our sporting rivalry on football pitches, tennis courts and golfing fairways.

And, true to Smyth form, there’s always at least an hour spent solving the latest 'glitch in his matrix' - usually by extensive re-wiring, an alternative hard drive or repairing a USB port with a spoon (there is no spoon) - before the games can begin.

It’s all part of life on Planet Paul and, while we wouldn’t have been surprised if Louis Theroux had made an entrance, it’s been both a weird and wonderful week. Paul, you are a gentleman and a scholar and we sincerely thank you for your hospitality.

Cheers mate...

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