On board, my wife reads Cosmo and sips champagne. I try and find something to watch but the entertainment system isn't on yet and all I can find are CNN Business & Technology reports.

Internet millionaire, I think, shaking my head.

My wife looks at me.

'I said billionaire.'

I sip my champagne, grumpily.

TADPOLES

I am back in London, and in the pub with Colin. We have spent the past hour or two exchanging important wisdom and philosophies. But then Colin drops a bombshell.

'It's not just the robots, Dan,' he says, shaking his head and putting his pint down. 'I mean, the robots will obviously have their place in our inevitable destruction - it's logical - but we will have our own part to play.'

'How?' I say, horrified. 'How will we have our own part to play?'

His eyes dart nervously around the pub. I lean in closer.

'According to reports, Dan, we can no longer rely on our own ... little beasts.'

I try and work out what he means.

'Cats?' I say.

'No. Our ...' He glances nervously again. '... internal tadpoles.'

'Oh!' I say, realising. 'Why? What've they done?'

'It's what they're not doing. A man's IT count is down ninety-four per cent from sixty years ago.'

'What? How do you know this?'

'A report on the internet. From Mexico.'

That's something you don't argue with.

'It's to do with salt, Dan. And soy. And beer.'

'But I like beer! And salt! And we've got a bottle of soy sauce at home!'

'Hmm. Have you ever opened it?'

'Of course not, no. But the other stuff!'

'Well, I'm just saying. Children are no longer a right. It's really got me worrying.'

He takes another huge sip of beer.

'How many tadpoles are you supposed to have?' I ask him. He is suddenly the font of all knowledge, and I need him.

'If it's anything under twenty million, it's not quite enough.'

Twenty million?! That sounds a lot! Never before have I questioned my internal tadpoles. I'd never even really considered them. But now that Colin has questioned them citing this important internet report from Mexico, I suddenly realise - I'm infertile! I must be! We all are!

'But I won a swimming competition when I was nine!' I plead. 'I was North Leicestershire Under Tens Breaststroke champion! Surely that counts for something?'

'Swimming quickly is not hereditary,' says Colin, wisely. 'Otherwise we'd have babies in ponds, and all you'd have at the Olympics were thousands of men called Goodhew.'

God, Colin is clever sometimes. Why can't I be more like Colin?

Later, at home, I avoid talking to my wife. I am ashamed. I open the cupboard and check the soy sauce bottle for warning labels. There aren't any.