The model family. Except for Dad. He’s got a head like a smashed crab.

I accept that I won’t be mistaken for Brad Pitt anytime soon.

It’s never been an issue. Not everyone can be blessed with dashing Hollywood looks.

These days, it’s fair to say that I’m built more for comfort than speed. Maturity, at least in appearance.

It was never a problem when I worked on the wireless. I feature in the Wikipedia entry titled “Great head for radio.”

Don’t tell anyone in the TV world. They haven’t seemed to notice yet. Even behind the scenes I have the potential to frighten small kids and animals.

The reason I feel compelled to outline these cosmetic shortcomings, is that the women in my life are the complete opposite.

They are all good sorts. And it seems others are noticing.

The Teenager is tall, elegant, and gorgeous. That’s a Dad Description.

Daughter Two as well. Another rare beauty. Dad Description # 2. We’re told they have a young, natural look. This, apparently, is a good thing.

Both did a school holiday course a while back, on the basics of deportment. It was run by a leading model agency. They must have been professional, because it cost me a small fortune.

Over a week, the young ladies are shown such things as how to walk tall, and why it’s poor form to spit on the footpath.

It concluded with a formal evening, and as I munched on what must have been the world’s most expensive sausage roll, I had to admit that they both looked stunning.

I thought that would be the end of it. Wrong. There were photos planned for the following week. I pondered a second mortgage. And still more surprises were ahead.

When The Treasurer took them to the studio, a funny thing happened. The photographer decided the girls’ mother should be in the shoot too.

She does have past experience in the modelling world. One year, she was known as the Tuggerah Lakes Mardi Gras Queen. At a younger age. Not that she’s old now. Anyway, let’s move on..

It was decided in the studio, possibly by someone with a pony tail, that the three of them had Something. Together, they had The Look.

Advertisers are constantly searching for The Look. They want happy, smiling families, to show off cars, or cough medicines, or new homes.

After someĀ snaps were taken of mother and daughters, it was suggested that they could be used in commercials. This excited them greatly.

There was, of course, a problem. The happy, smiling family was missing someone. Me.

Forget the fact that I would rather stick bamboo sticks under my toenails than sit in on a photo shoot. This family still needs a father.

The girls explained that the agency would use a replacement dad. It was noted that this didn’t seem to concern them greatly. I could tell by the laughter.

I’m not getting too worried yet. They’re still waiting for the phone call. When it comes, I’ve promised to support my model family. As long as I get a cut of the takings.

I’ve told them I want a say in who plays the part of me. And the ground rules are clear. First and foremost, he can’t be too good-looking.

My stand in needs to be believable. A little older. Maybe carrying a few pounds. A form guide in his pocket. Reading glasses. And bad dress sense. Now, where can we find someone like that?

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