"Having a kid changes everything. I mean, there's the diapers and the burping and the midnight feedings ... Then you spend years trying to corrupt and mislead this child, fill its head with nonsense and still it turns out perfectly fine."

So says a cynical Edward Bloom in Tim Burton's wonderful movie "Big Fish". Watching the film again the other evening I couldn't help but grimace. There comes a point in your life when you find yourself standing on the threshold of parenthood, your pleasantly carefree, self-centred lifestyle soon to be obliterated by those diapers and midnight feedings. I'm standing there now, far-off theoretical decisions suddenly real and imminent.

Everywhere I look these days I see babies, babies and more damn babies. Four women at my place of work are either pregnant or have recently given birth. The spouse of one of my fellow columnists recently had twins, my wife's niece gave birth to her first child last year, and our friends are starting to get pregnant too.

This has had a predictable effect on my wife. First it was living together. Then it was marriage. Now the wheedling has begun again, this time to entice me into the maw of the ultimate terror: parenthood.

I initially hoped to stave off any broodiness by persuading my wife to take a job as a teacher. I was certain that being exhausted by a roomful of screaming brats every day would be sufficient to quell any desire to do it on a full-time basis. Evidently I miscalculated.

Her enthusiasm for motherhood seems even more inexplicable when you consider that we already have two cats. Why do we need children too? Cats are furrier than babies, you can throw them outside whenever you want some peace, and they don't ask you for $300 for a pair of new trainers.

Then there's the birth itself. My wife has made it perfectly clear that I'm going to be in the delivery room with her, even though I have an impressive record of going a bit funny where hospitals are concerned (I once fainted while watching a documentary about plastic surgery on TV). But she seems peculiarly unconcerned about the distraction a fainting father might present to the midwife. Indeed, she seems to regard me passing out as some sort of minimal quid pro quo for the agony she'll be enduring, even though she's the one leading the charge to motherhood. It's so unfair.

The other problem with children is that you have to talk to them. I've never felt comfortable talking to kids. I imagine it's not too bad when they're babies: it can't be much different from talking to a cat. But what you chat about with a five year old? Too old for baby talk, too young for discussions about philosophy, local politics and international affairs. It's that tricky, in-between age.

I'm also deeply suspicious about the effect of a baby on my relationship with my wife. I'm just not happy about having to compete with anyone else for her attention. I want us to be able to go out for a romantic dinner without needing to find a babysitter first. A child seems likely to furnish more things for us to argue about too. I'll want it to be academic; she'll want it to be social. I'll be encouraging it to play "Half-Life"; she'll be encouraging it to play hockey.

Fundamentally, though, I'm unhappy about the prospect of a baby intruding on my spare time. I don't want to spend my leisure hours wiping bottoms and thinking of a colour scheme for the nursery. I don't want to have to worry about where I'll relocate my office when a new-born takes over the spare room. I don't want to be kept awake all night by a wailing baby and I don't want to have to try to discipline anything that I'm unable to reason with.

No, I want to spend my evenings reading, writing and playing games on my PC. Alas, the likely impact of a new-born on such pursuits was summed up by Hudson in the movie "Aliens", after the marines become stranded on the alien-infested planet. "That's it man, game over man, game over!" he wails.

That said, the prospect of having a son or daughter that I could indoctrinate with my political prejudices does have a certain appeal. And joking aside, I would be devastated if it ever turned out not to be possible for my wife and I to have a child together.

But just not yet. I'm still too young ? yes, too young.

No sense rushing these things. Maybe in a couple of years. Once I've had chance to work though all those unread books on my shelves. Proust in particular. And I really must play "World of Warcraft" first too. Games like that don't come along very often, you know.

Maybe then I'll be ready. Yes, maybe then.

Phillip Wells is the creator of weblog www.limeyinbermuda.com. He will be on holiday for the next two weeks and his column will resume on April 21.