Mr Jangles

Grown-ups seem to frown a lot, don't they reader? But contrary to popular belief, this isn't because they are angry or frustrated.

It's because deep down, they're confused and keenly aware that they have lost something very precious. Something that they used to cherish, that means more to them than their own name.

That something they have lost, is childhood innocence. You see, everyone is born with a brightly coloured marble in their heart, which contains all of their childhood innocence, joy and laughter. It gleams brightly as they grow up, its light seeping through the eyes and smiles of most children you'll see.

But somewhere along the line, we become embarrassed by it. We're told to shush it away and shove it out of sight. This causes the marble to rot, from the inside out.

It's ever so gradual at first, but through every time you do up your top button, wear sensible shoes, make small talk or read the terms and conditions, your childhood innocence decays.

It decays until the point it dislodges from your heart, and falls away. You might have noticed reader, that after doing something notably boring like reading your bank statement, you felt your heart drop. This was your childhood innocence falling away.

You may also remember, although no one really does, that soon after you sneezed a terribly loud sneeze.

If you'd looked carefully, you would have spotted your marble of childhood innocence shooting out and rolling away.

It's terribly dulled at this point, so don't feel bad if you missed it. Most grown-ups only notice things that make them feel clever.

This however, is where Mr Jangles comes in. He's a demon who's quick as a shadow and twice as dark, for he collects these dislodged marbles of childhood innocence and scarpers back to his furnace, deep underground.

There, he carefully burns away the filth on every marble (some are caked in the stuff!) until they're shining like new.

Then, he melts them one by one, and pours them carefully into a small circular cast, no larger than a coin.

He let's them all settle and tap dances while he waits, using maracas filled with the teeth of bankers, shaking them rhythmically above his head and behind his back.

Mr Jangles is a deeply misunderstood demon, reader. The only reason he collects childhood innocence and tries to preserve it is because his evil brother, Mr Jingles.

Mr Jingles, who is usually clad in a red suit and only seen once a year, hatched a cunning plan, where he spread a vicious lie that he would give every good child in the world a gift for Christmas.

Mr Jingles does more harm than good, for he damages childhood innocence when children realise he isn't coming.

Every year, Mr Jingles sits on his backside and laughs to the heavens at the pressure he puts on parents to make their children happy.

Many grown-ups buy wonderful presents for their children, but it doesn't take long for them to realise that their Christmas gifts aren't from Mr Jingles, and so begins the decay of their childhood innocence. A terrible crime, if there ever was one.

But anyway, back to the real hero of this story, Mr Jangles.

Once his coins have solidified and set, he puts them all into his leather pouch and jangles his away to the surface again, eagerly biding his time.

Biding for what, you may ask? Well, Mr Jangles has a rather unique skill.

He can smell silliness. The scent of it is like expensive cologne to him, and he darts towards it, faster than any human eye could see.

You see, Mr Jangles sole purpose in life is to find adults who want to rekindle their childhood innocence again.

The only way to do this, is by doing silly things. This doesn't mean an adult has to dance on a table with their underwear on their head - that's just uncivilised.

Silliness is suddenly pretending the floor is lava, or holding your breath for no reason while your microwave counts to zero. It's adding 150 marshmallows to your hot cocoa and moonwalking badly in and out of rooms.

Such silliness, gives off a scent - the same scent that attracts Mr Jangles, with his pocketful of coins of childhood innocence.

One silly deed won't do much - you have to sustain it, as every time the scent gets stronger and stronger, until Mr Jangles smells it.

Once he finds a grown-up being silly, he'll rummage through his pouch until he finds the coin belonging to you.

Then, he'll deftly jump onto your back and place the coin near the back of your neck.

Your heart will recognise its lost childhood innocence, and a small coin slot will appear in the back of your neck. Mr Jangles will grin and pop the coin in, just like you or I would when using a vending machine.

As soon as Mr Jangles is done, the coin slot will disappear. The grown-up will always fart (it's a side effect - if childhood innocence reenters the body, cynicism can't stay and must escape as broccoli-smelling flatulence).

The adult will feel their heart soar, and suddenly feel lighter and happier than they have in years. They'll smile to themselves randomly and declare things like 'I feel alive!'

Mr Jangles will slink away, keeping his nose poised for the next waft of silliness, wherever it is in the world.

As long as the grown-up performs a silly deed now and again, and doesn't let cynicism into their heart, their childhood innocence will flourish.

It's easier said than done, for sure. Everyday life is full of things to make us sad, anxious and cynical. But once a grown-up realises they have their childhood innocence again, they'll protect it viciously, like a lioness protects her cubs.

So the next time you feel like doing something a little silly - do it, and hopefully if you strain your ears, you'll hear the sound of jangling in the distance, slowly growing louder with every eager step.