AS I’ve said on numerous occasions, being embarrassing comes with the job description when you’re a dad.

To be fair, I’ve never been a disappointment in that department – I’ve always been an embarrassment to my kids. In their eyes, I dance in an embarrassingly strange way. I wear embarrassingly naff clothes. I listen to embarrassingly uncool music.

And I crack embarrassingly unfunny jokes.

The thing is, I don’t realise I’m being embarrassing. I see myself as a pretty good mover on the dancefloor to the point where I’d even say I have natural rhythm. I wear nice, pure-wool, v-neck jumpers from Marks and Spencer, along with chinos with elasticated waists. Yes, I admit I like Phil Collins and Genesis, but I can also appreciate modern bands in the hit parade, such as the Arctic Monkeys and Biffy Clyro. Oh, and my jokes make me cry with laughter.

Here’s my favourite dad joke of all time...

One middle-aged dad says to another middle-aged dad: “Do you take drugs?”

“Well, I take Viagra,” is the reply.

“Can you get it over the counter?

“I can if I take two!”

There, you see, absolutely hilarious.

Anyway, I can categorically say, I did not set out to be an embarrassment when I nipped out of work before Christmas to join my wife for a carol concert at Queen Elizabeth Sixth Form College, in Darlington.

My youngest son, Max, was one of the performers, playing drums in the big band, and it was a lovely night – exactly what was called for to inspire some Christmas spirit. There was wine and mince pies, the young musicians were first-rate, we were encouraged to join in some of the carols, and my wife and I were proud as punch of Max’s blossoming skills on the drums. I found myself totally engrossed and went back to work feeling all warm inside.

When I got home, I immediately congratulated Max on his performance, saying: “Hey, son, you were amazing.”

“Yeah, well you were really embarrassing,”

he replied, glumly.

I was genuinely taken aback. “In what way was I embarrassing?” I asked.

“You were swaying too much,” he grunted.

This was a first. I’ve never been admonished for being an embarrassing swayer before.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Dad, every time I looked up, you were swaying,” he told me. “It put me off.”

My wife, noticing the look of indignation on my face, added: “He’s right – you were swaying too much.”

So that’s it. Dads are officially not allowed to enjoy themselves at Christmas carol concerts. They must not be seen to be moved in any way by the music.

Next year, I will be so still, the big band will be playing The Last Post because they’ll think I’m dead.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

MY wife was walking through Darlington market place as they were clearing away the temporary ice rink.

She overheard a mum in front of her say to her son: “Just think, next year, you’ll be big enough to go skating.”

The little boy did a dance of excitement and said: “Ooh, I can’t wait to see my feet in skates.”

AMANDA Lawrence, of Darlington, told me how grand-daughter Grace, five, turned to her with a serious face and said: “Grandma, have you had your independix out?”

MATT Wescott, of Middlesbrough, was told by son Joseph: “I dream of you, me, and monsters at night.”

“Do I come to rescue you?” asked Matt.

“No, the monster eats you,” came the reply.

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