I know that Richard Dawkins is wrong about Down’s syndrome, because I know my son

No household that contains a 13-year-old boy is eternally tranquil. There had been a bit of temperament that evening, an outright refusal to go to bed, hard words for his mother and his father, and trickiest of all, an attitude that seemed to deny not only our parenthood but our humanity.

Then the dam broke, and that was better but more exhausting. Still, at last he was in bed and at peace and the world was easy again. So I poured drinks for us both and raised my glass: ‘Dawkins was right,’ I said. And my wife laughed and agreed. Thank God for jokes, eh? What would life be without ’em? So thanks to Richard Dawkins for bringing us a new one; it won’t be the last time we use it.

Because Eddie has Down’s syndrome, you see, and that’s not always easy. Of course, there are thousands of other occasions when things are quite different.