In Defence of British Dads, Supposedly the Worst Dads in the World

British dads are the absolute dirt-worst dads in the world, it turns out, after they came bottom in a worldwide survey into dads – a dad study that found, in terms of time spent with their children, British dads come out the absolute worst. Maybe take that Father’s Day card you got from Moonpig and throw it in the bin. Maybe take that “World’s #1 Dad” mug and correct it with a permanent marker. Your dad is a good-for-nothing pisstaker. This study says so.

Anyway, the study – the Fairness in Families Index (FIFI), commissioned by the Fatherhood Institute and undertaken once a year since 2010 – found that for every hour UK mums spent with their children, dads spent just 24 minutes. Out of the 15 countries ranked, this put them dead last – the worst in the developed world. Top of the chain was Portugal, where dads spent 39 minutes caring for every hour of mum time.

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QUICK BUT PERTINENT Q&A ABOUT THIS STUDY INTO DADS

Q. How, exactly, did the FIFI study know how much time UK dads spend with their children compared to UK mums, or, indeed, Portuguese dads?

A. No clue. No fucking clue. Like, look at this. I have read this three times through – this explanation from the full FIFI report they made slagging your dad off – and I still have no fucking clue how they measured it. These are just words. I’m pretty sure this was from a sociology essay I had to submit in sixth form where the word count was about 500 higher than I could feasibly make up, so I just started rinsing the “Synonym for…” function in Word and hoping for the best. These are just words and they make no sense. And yet the FIFI has the temerity to slag your dad off.

I’m not sure British dads are that bad, really. British dads, begrudgingly learning all the words to every song from Frozen and singing them to you lovingly in secret at night. British dads in holiday mode, their muscles visibly relaxing, caving in to every demand for an ice cream, undoing two more buttons and getting up on the karaoke. British dads, driving you to McDonald’s after karate before you go home for your tea, one thick dad-finger held up to his lips – British dads’ fingers somehow five, six times wider than regular human fingers. British dads stealing one of your McNuggets and dunking it in your ketchup pot with a look that says, “Don’t tell your mother about this.” British dads patiently doing maths with you. British dads working really, really hard to make you your first fancy dress outfit, which is shit. British dads trying to do a rabona to take it past you in the garden and somehow breaking their ankle. British dads walking the dog they never wanted but you begged them for all summer long until they caved, and now they quietly, reluctantly love it. British dads standing like gravestones in the bowels of the O2 while you scream as hard as you possibly can in the direction of The Vamps. British dads waiting outside your first ever trip to the pub and silently, furiously, trying not to judge you for being pissed. British dads stoically clearing your vomit up and trying not to shout at you too much on your first hangover. British dads letting you switch over from the F1 qualifying to watch yet another repeat of Keeping Up with the Kardashians. British dads really want to know who deleted the F1 qualifying off the Sky box, but nobody’s confessing so they’re off out in the rain for a big walk.

British dads only really knowing how to make a bacon sandwich, but it’s the best bacon sandwich in the world. British dads not really knowing how to hem these trousers, but your mother’s out dancing and he can’t call her, so I suppose he’s just going to have to try. British dads trying to grow flowers, but you keep doing kick-ups out in the garden and fucking them all up. British dads still reading actual physical books even though you bought them a Kindle and filled it with crime novels. British dads desperate for a shit, but you’re busy using the bathroom to get ready for your prom. British dads spending 18 years of their life only having half a pint of ale at Sunday dinner in case they have to drive your nan home after. British dads being very thankful for the new body-warmer you got for their birthday – no, that’s nice, that. British dads just wanting a single fucking moment of peace, so going and making a small model Spitfire in the shed. British dads getting a long piece of pipe out of a skip because “it might be useful”. British dads helping you move everything into Halls and waving you off at the gate but they’re not crying, they’re not crying.

British dads wishing they could talk to you in a language you both can understand. British dads aware of the void between you, but not knowing how to cross it. British dads not knowing how to actively love, so all they can do is sacrifice. British dads just trying, out here, trying their best. British dads. British dads. British dads.

@joelgolby

More stuff about dads:

Jeremy Clarkson and the War on British Dads

Your Dad’s Gone Rogue: Guido Fawkes Bloggers Drive a Tank to the BBC to ‘Save Clarkson’

Lord Sewel Is Doing Cocaine with Your Dad’s Taxes