WHEN I was a kid, any money I had left over from Christmas or birthdays was spent on things like new football boots or goalie gloves.

But to my horror, my two younger sons – aged 16 and 13 – have gone halves on a pair of hair-straighteners.

I don’t know for certain how much they cost. All I’m allowed to know is that they were the best that money could buy – the Rolls-Royce of hairstraighteners – and the offer on the internet was simply too good to miss.

Now I do appreciate the difficulties of having curly hair. As a child, I hated my curls and it was only when Kevin Keegan, and that bloke from The Professionals, suddenly made outsized curly perms trendy that the name-calling at school began to ease off.

My children haven’t even got particularly curly hair but they still had to buy the hair-straighteners.

According to the instruction leaflet, the BaByliss Pro 230 Radiance Sleek model apparently uses breakthrough technology for longerlasting straightness. “The ionic steam enhances the hair condition and eliminates frizz for an ultimate high-shine finish,” it declares.

What’s more, the straighteners come with “re-tractable de-tangling fins for total straightness” and the boys are even more excited by this remarkable feature than I was by the advent of removable studs from footie boots in the Seventies.

But that’s not all. The long list of features also includes: extra power heaters; special ceramic-titanium plates; three-metre salon swivel cord; luxury storage pouch; variable temperature settings; sectioning clips; a heat protection mat and – wait for it – an on/off switch.

Oh yes, how advanced is that? An on/off switch! No wonder they had to pool their savings.

And ever since the hair-straighteners arrived, it has become a near impossibility to get into the bathroom.

They spend hours in there every morning, fiddling endlessly with their special ceramic-titanium plates and sectioning clips until their hair is perfectly straight.

“How long are you going to be?” I shout, pounding on the door in frustration because I’m going to be late for work.

“Just a minute,” they grunt and then proceed to take another half an hour before emerging from the bathroom, looking like The Boulder Brothers from Wacky Races.

They trudge off to school with a sleek curtain of straight hair hanging in front of their eyes, leaving me to wonder whether we should get them a guide dog each.

The lack of bathroom access got so bad last week that I finally decided to issue them with a time-limit.

“From now on, you’ve got ten minutes each in the bathroom – no more,”’ I declared.

“Aw, why’s that?” mumbled Jack.

“Because I need to do my hair too,”

I told him.

“It’s all relative Dad,” he yawned.

“Those of us who have lots of hair, need longer in the bathroom. You don’t need long these days. Half a minute should do it.”

I’ll be honest – it crossed my mind to turn up the variable temperature and shove his de-tangling fins where it would have proved very hard for them to be re-tractable.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

AT a recent meeting of Branksome Residents’ Association in Darlington, Vera Nowell told of the time she asked her grandson, Daniel, six: “Do you think Grandad and Nanna are old?”

Daniel thought for a while and then gave his verdict: “No, you’re not old, Nanna. I’ve been talking to a lady who’s 102 – and she’s ended up in a wheelbarrow!”

VERA recalled her son Brinley’s first haircut, when he was four, and he told the barber: “I don’t like you!”

“Why not?” asked the barber.

“Because all the feathers have gone down my neck,” replied Brinley.

BRINLEY came home from school one day with a pertinent question after a lesson about where babies came from.

“Mum, did the egg I was in have a lion stamped on it?” he asked.