Something worrying is happening - I'm getting a strange crush on Sportacus. For those of you who don't have young children or an addiction to CBeebies, Sportacus is the lead in an obnoxious programme called Lazy Town. I used to hate this programme and try to avoid my children watching it but I've relented because despite nauseating characters the subliminal message works: my four-year-old does star jumps and push ups and asks for a banana and an apple so that he will grow up strong like Sportacus.
So I looked closer and this muscled Icelandic guy in blue lycra is quite sexy. I'm not sure if it's the Nordic accent or just because he's the old-fashioned hero who would pick you up in his arms to rescue you from stepping in a puddle, but I now smile when I hear the theme tune and even sing along.
I feel ashamed to admit this crush - when a friend mentioned this summer that she actually tuned in to watch him, and she doesn't even have children, I was horrified. My only explanation of the problem is that my husband is away this week and I've had seven days of wild boys and no adult conversation. It's probably fortunate that Matthew is home tomorrow.