Mum: Will you ever stop scratching your arse against that heater?
Me: N-n-no. This house is f-f-freezing. It’s bordering on ch-child abuse.
Mum: Will you ever go and put some more feckin jumpers on ya.
Me: I’m w-w-wearing them all. D-don’t have any m-more.
Mum: I could lend you a vest.
Me: <look of slowly dawning horror>
Me: I would rather die of hypothermia.
Mum: For fecks’ sake! Will you ever toughen up! And stop wrecking my head! When I was a girl, we were so cold we were practically crippled with chilblains. We didn’t have ‘radiators’, just baked potatoes. We used to walk four miles to school, barefoot through the snow-
Me: Well, you’re lucky you’re hardy. I, on the other hand, was born into a life of privilege-