Let me introduce myself – I’m the Dummy Fairy. You may have heard of me – especially if you have young kids – since I’m kind of a big deal.
My job is relatively simple. If a child has become somewhat attached to having a dummy in their mouth, and all other attempts to wean them off have failed, parents contact me as a means of last resort to help them out. I then swoop in when the child is asleep (usually within 48 hours of getting the initial job sheet through from my office staff), and steal all remaining dummies from the house. The child then has no choice but to go cold turkey from that moment on.
Some of you may think this sounds cruel, but I find it’s the only guaranteed method of success, and I tend to leave a gift (or sometimes money – depending on the preference of the parent) in exchange for the child’s dummies, so it’s not all that bad. Besides, the dummies are then re-homed, to younger children who need them more, so nothing is wasted, and everything gets recycled. I pride myself on offering an environmentally-friendly service, and my carbon footprint is very much like my actual footprint – very small indeed.
Look, if my service didn’t work, I wouldn’t still be in business – and business has never been better. In fact, I started to get so busy a few decades ago, I had to go grovelling to that fat bastard Santa for some of his magic dust, so I could slow down time for my rounds.
Anyway, I’d argue my job is harder than Santa’s, because I have to be more thorough when visiting a child’s house. He only has to haul his colossal arse down a chimney, then throw some presents under a tree and leave; whereas I have to cover every square inch of the house, to make sure all the dummies have been collected, before I can even think about dropping the gift off and getting the hell out of there. You have no idea the pressure I am under, knowing that – at any given second – a child could wake up and spot me.
In fairness, he has to visit every child on the planet in just one night, whereas my rounds are restricted to only those kids with dummy addictions (at last year’s ‘P.E.N.I.S.’ Convention – Pixies, Elves, Nymphs, Imps & Sprites – it was estimated that our workload is roughly 4% of his), but he spends a fraction of the time in each house, and has 364 days of the year to plan his route – which is the same route every sodding year. Not me, though. I’m never off duty, and can be sent anywhere at the drop of a hat. It’s a good job fairies can’t get sick (apart from that pillock Tinkerbell, who claims to be ill every time someone doesn’t believe in her).
In the end, the workload became so much, the Fairy Council decided to divide the planet up into sections, and recruited a load more fairies like me to be responsible for one part of the globe each. As a result, I’m the Dummy Fairy responsible for the UK and Ireland; but we also now have, for example, the ‘Pacifier Pixie’ covering the United States (stupid fucking name, I know, but she insisted because she thinks it makes her sound cool); the ‘Chupete Clan’ deal with all the Spanish speaking countries; and the Germans have the ‘Schnuller Sprite’ (very efficient fairy, is Schnully, and one of the best in the business). Of course, parents in each of those countries may know their respective fairy by another name, but that’s the official titles they have been given by the Council.
Say what you like about us, but we offer a crucial role in society. Sure, there are other methods of weaning children away from their dummies, but studies have shown that Saliva Patches aren’t always that successful; Chewing Gum is generally advised against when it comes to young children; and don’t even get me started on these new-fangled electronic ‘e-dummies’. Total waste of money, and the child looks ridiculous vaping away on one of them all day long.
No, if you want your kids to give up dummies for good, you need to give one of us a call, and we guarantee success within a week – or your money back (actually, we have to say that, even though you only pay for the gift you want us to leave for your child, so there isn’t really any charge for what we do. We tried to re-brand the service as ‘no-success, no-fee’ a few years ago, but apparently the personal injury lawyers thought it was too similar to ‘no-win, no-fee’, and threatened to sue, so we had to back down).
If you still have any doubts about how successful our service is, let me introduce you to this little fella:
His name is Isaac, and he lives in a place called Sandbach, in Cheshire. Until recently, he craved a dummy more than he clearly craves a hairbrush. At one stage, he had eight dummies on the go at the same time – not all in his mouth, obviously, but he had amassed quite the collection.
His parents had tried everything to break his addiction, but the most they had managed to achieve was restricting him to two dummies at bed time. They evidently decided this was a worthwhile compromise, if it meant getting just a tiny bit more sleep (it never fails to amaze me, the steps parents will go to for just a fraction more sleep; but since I’m awake all the time, I guess I will never understand what sleep-deprivation can do to a person).
However, with primary school looming this September, and disapproving glances from other parents, they finally reached breaking point, and gave me a call. Well, I say me, but I have a team of call centre operatives based just outside Delhi, who field my incoming work for me.
Within a day, I was on the case, and crept in to their house in the small hours to begin my search. They had already told me where most of the dummies were hidden, but I can’t afford any slip-ups in my line of work, so I still have to cover every part of the house. Imagine if a child was told the dummy fairy had taken their dummies away, to give them to younger children who needed them more, only to discover one under their bed, or down the back of the sofa? My reputation would be in tatters.
Once I was satisfied that the house was entirely dummy-free, I left one of my customary notes, explaining that Isaac was too big to have dummies now, and they were being put to better use, and I was on my way. Although not before leaving him a little gift to sweeten the deal.
Another successful result for the Dummy Fairy.
Of course, I always like to keep an eye on the child for a few days after removal, in case of any follow-up issues the parents may encounter (the withdrawal can be tough at times), but that’s just part of the service.
Anyway, that’s me. It was nice to finally meet you all, but I better dash, as I’m out for dinner tonight with the tooth fairy. Nasty piece of work, the tooth fairy, but he’s rolling in it (his parents died when he was six, when a toadstool collapsed and fell on them, and they left him a bloody fortune – hence why he can afford to pay some kids a fiver per tooth these days), so he always picks up the bill. And, if there’s one thing I like more than seeing a well-used dummy sent to a good home, it’s a free meal.
See you around some time – and, remember, not a word of this to any kids, ok?
Sleep tight, folks.