There is nothing more likely to make you choke on your roast chicken than have your elderly father announce at the table that he finds John Barrowman “rather attractive.”

He said this while chewing on a brussel sprout, the thought obviously casting a nice little fantasy in his brain. I really didn’t want to be in his head at the moment, the thought terrified me.

Meanwhile, my Mum was calmly passing the gravy around, completely oblivious to this remark – so used to the daft things that spring from my father’s lips (especially when a glass of wine is clasped in his hand.)

“But I’m not sure though whether I prefer John or Dale Winton…” My Dad continued slowly, still chewing on his sprout. “Dale has always had a place in my heart. He has twinkling eyes and a knowing smile…”

“Perhaps we could have a threesome.” He suddenly declared. “That would solve it I’m sure they would be willing to share.”

My mother then replied sagely with the straightest of faces. “Would you like me to write to their agents and find out if it’s an option….?”

My Dad just continued to chew at his masticated vegetable, obviously enjoying this thought. Although whether he actually believed either would be interested in actually sharing his withered old body was questionable.

I suppose I should explain here that my father has never shown homosexual leanings, just a tendency to try and shock and surprise his audience whenever he can.

I’m sure if Dale and John did in fact arrive at that very moment with an armful of flowers and a suggestive look on their faces, he would be out of our back door as fast as his skinny little legs could take him.

But there is something very wrong in still having flashback images of your father locked in an embrace with two rather orange looking men.