Bedtime stories are getting shorter and more glittery. Although the number of parents who read to their children has doubled over the last generation, according to a survey conducted via a parenting website, the reading time has shrunk: it's down to an average of seven minutes, with many mums and dads adding "celebrity glamour" to keep the plot moving.
It must be a good thing that parents are reading to their children more often. And it's probably a good thing that the stories are shorter, so nobody can get bored. Seven minutes is perfect for bonding time, after which the parents can slip away for a gin and tonic while the children return gratefully to their iPads.
But what about the introduction of celebrity characters? Can that be good? Some people have expressed concern that children are already growing up in an overly celebrified world and the levering of famous names into traditional bedtime stories will make the problem worse. Is nowhere safe from the incursion of mindless TV trivia?
However, perhaps this is to make too many assumptions about the sort of celebrities that parents are levering in.
We naturally imagine that they've started to tell stories in which Mr Toad, poop-pooping along the road to Toad Hall, is overtaken by Justin Bieber, high as a kite, taking part in an illegal midnight drag-race. Or that the Ugly Duckling meets the cast of The Only Way is Essex and turns into a swan by virtue of a giant, new, surgically enhanced beak.
Yet why should this be so? Perhaps the parents are spicing up old stories, not with the glitter of talentless nonentities, but the serious names of our age? Maybe they are using their seven-minute reading window to introduce children to important culture, history and politics?
I, for one, assume that the modern bedtime story is now going something like this…
Little Red Riding Hood
Visiting her grandmother one day, Little Red Riding Hood felt a bit suspicious. Grandma seemed hairier than usual, with bigger ears and longer teeth.
"What big ears and long teeth you have, Grandma," said Red Riding Hood.
But it was not Grandma at all! It was the former Countryfile presenter, Miriam O'Reilly.
"Actually, there's nothing odd about my ears or teeth," replied Grandmiriam. "You're just not used to them, due to the under-representation of older women on television."
Fred and the Beanstalk
Fred Goodwin was taking the family cow to market. On the road, he met an old man who offered to swap the cow for some magic beans. Fred did so immediately.
Fred hoped that the beans would grow into a giant beanstalk, leading above the clouds to a world of infinite gold. Unfortunately he was wrong.
To be fair, it wasn't just Fred. At the same time, all over the western world, bankers were swapping cows for beans. And now nobody has any cows, so there's no more free milk for thirsty people.
The Princess in the Tower
Long-haired Rapunzel was locked up in a tower by an evil enchanter. Her crime? Being a member of the Burmese opposition.
The poor trapped lady (full name Rap-Aung-San-Suu-Kyi-zel) spent long years weaving her thoughts into a great silken rope, until she was finally released from the tower and is now running for the presidency of Burma, which is even better than marrying a handsome prince.
Cinderella
Cinderella wanted to go to the ball. Her dream came true, thanks to a fairy godmother who did not appear in a puff of smoke, but simply knocked at the scullery door.
That's because the fairy godmother was, in fact, avant-garde Danish film-maker Lars von Trier.
Lars pointed to a pumpkin that he had brought with him. Cinderella hoped it would be transformed into a magic coach, but, on principle eschewing any gimmickry or unnatural special effects, Lars insisted that she simply stand on the pumpkin and use it as a makeshift "walking ball" to propel herself to the palace.
As a result, Cinderella did not arrive until midnight. However, she was there in time for the last dance and remained forever grateful to her "fairy Dogmeother".
The Three Little Prasata
There were once three little pigs, whose house kept being destroyed by a big bad wolf. It wasn't just any old big bad wolf; it was senior Nazi official Reinhard Heydrich. Heydrich was not as big a celebrity as his fellow woodland creatures Goebbels and Himmler, despite being every bit as bad and horrid.
The three little pigs did not like SS-Obergruppenführer Heydrich. He huffed and he puffed and he blew down thousands of houses all over the former sovereign state of Czechoslovakia. But the three little pigs (or, in Czech, "prasata") weren't standing for it. They hatched a plan to fight back against the evil Reichsprotektor, and soon all the wolves were overthrown. Hurrah!
Goldilocks and the Three Goves
Strolling through the woods one day, Goldilocks came upon a cottage. Sneaking in and finding three bowls of porridge at varying temperatures, Goldilocks gobbled down the third portion, which was "just right".
At that moment, the three Goves (for this was their cottage) returned home from hunting.
Luckily, the Goves were not cross. They believed that porridge was a good, old-fashioned meal for a young girl and certainly an aid to concentration.
The biggest Gove encouraged Goldilocks to sit in his own chair for the rest of the day, as it was the hardest chair in the cottage and ideal, the big Gove felt, for a long day of doing sums and learning that the First World War was a jolly good thing.
