Running scared

Parents of toddling boys will know that the screenshot above is of "Naughty" Norman Price from Pontypandy, one of Fireman Sam's most frequent customers.

I tell you this because Master Price was the cause of a particularly embarrassing incident for me in Asda yesterday which could, in theory, have led to my arrest.

I was picking up a few bits and pieces - basket in one hand, Jamie-laden buggy being pushed with the other - when Jamie spotted a stray packet of mussels sitting on a shelf where they shouldn't have been.

"Look! Mussels!" he shouted.

The reason for his recognition of the fishy creatures, and his excitement, was simple; in one episode of Fireman Sam which he's watched to death in recent weeks, Norman tries mussels and likes them. End of story. (Jamie, meanwhile, doesn't because I let him try one a while ago and he handed it back at me, having had a lick).

"Does Norman like mussels?" I asked him (always good to start a junior conversation with an easy one, I find).

"Yes," replied Jamie. (Told you).

"Who always has to rescue Norman?" I asked next, upping the difficulty ever so slightly.

"Fireman Sam!" he announced, before matters took an unseen turn for the worse.

"Norman shouts HELP! HELP! HELP!" bellowed Jamie, as loudly as his lungs would allow him.

"HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP!"

By now, fellow shoppers in the packed supermarket were turning around in droves and staring at me accusingly.

"Jamie!" I whispered firmly in his ear, whilst attempting to smile at the potential witnesses in my trial. "Come on now, stop it!"

"HELP! HELP! HELP!"

"Jamie! Stop it!"

"HELP! HELP! HELP!"

My shopping almost but not quite completed, I was left with little option but to forget about finding the sugar aisle and, instead, headed straight to the nearest available checkout.

"HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP!" was all you could hear within 50 feet of me for the next three or four minutes, which felt more like an hour and a half, as I packed my shopping for all I was worth whilst rolling my eyes and grinning manically at the till lady.

Eventually, receipt in hand and bags in buggy, I sped past the security man and out through the main doors - almost colliding with a woman in a self-propelled wheelchair.

And Jamie's shouting immediately came to an end, replaced by a cheesy, evil grin.

I never want to see another mussel again in my life. Or Norman effing Price.