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It is sunday afternoon. Lunchtime cheese on toast, sunlit living room, Mike in his bike clothes making tea.

“Oh oh oh,” I say. The chimpanzees on TV are roaming. They’re so fuzzy.

“I would love to give one a cuddle,” I say. “I think they’d cuddle back, too”.

“They would,” Mike says.

The chimps walk in a long line, one after the other, winding through the jungle.

“God they’re so human,” I say, as one hands one an apple*. “And I love their faces. Oh and look at that one’s eyes, they’re sooo big…”

“You can see their bollocks,” Mike says. I’m shocked.

“Dad!”

“Er?” Mike says. I am horribly embarrassed. And probably have a father-complex.

“Sorry,” I say. “It’s just. Well, it’s just the kind of thing he’d say.”

*Okay, it was actually the carcas of a rival baby chimp they killed, but whatever. I’ll go with apple.