No Hands – A Parody for Parents Heading in One Direction (straight to f**king bed)

So the new parody is a take on what happens to your love life after kids come on the scene – sapping your energy, spirit and ability to stay awake past 8pm…

Thank you to Niall Horan for the ease in which ‘Slow Hands’ was adapted to portray romance after kids – which, if we’re being frank, ain’t great most of the time… Generally speaking, one, or both of you, smells like off milk mixed with despair and the last time you felt well rested was in a glorious time when you had no fucking clue who Mr Tumble was.

So what’s first on the agenda once the kids have gone to bed (note, bed – not sleep, the little buggers will still be running riot upstairs) – Instagram stalking and SLEEP, that’s what. Last time I checked, foreplay does not consist of asking your partner if they can still smell poo under you nails…

Guys, it’s not that we don’t love you or find you any less attractive – it’s just sometimes… after doing a million and one things in a day (not saying you don’t either) –  we want to sit, be still, have no one ask us for anything, and drink wine / gin / vodka / calpol and fall into blissful, sweet, sweet sleep (if only for two hours). No offence. We’re still cool – right?


7 thoughts on “No Hands – A Parody for Parents Heading in One Direction (straight to f**king bed)

  1. Jennifer says:

    Another Great Vid Sophie! Thank you so much! Also your hair and makeup look amazing! Love the shade of lipstick!

    Please keep adding more! Your a true inspiration, for us tired mummys out there.

    • Sophie McCartney says:

      Thanks Jennifer – glad you liked it! So nice to get such lovely comments. I’ll keep them coming, don’t worry!

  2. Lynsey says:

    Bloody brilliant!! My youngest of 3 is now 8 so passing those stages but can still relate!! Keep being fab xx

  3. Jen says:

    My main concern was that you were going to spill precious drops of wine as you nodded off! I don’t miss smelling of gone off milk. Now I just smell of random bits I find crushed into my trousers. Sigh.

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