I linked a piece of his a couple of weeks back (Go look, lazy arse; I can't be bothered to relink, do I have to do everything for you? And I asked you hours ago to bring up the laundry. Oh. Sorry. Got sidetracked there).
He writes a column for the Guardian in Great Britain, one the papers I read most days. He's like a Fatherlode to my Motherlode, if I was funnier - way funnier - and allowed to use much worse language. He has a long suffering wife (note to self: get one of those) and sons. Sons.
Go read this, if you want a laugh. Or if you've ever been a houseguest. Or just because I told you to. Anyone who can argue with a late-rising petulant son by saying "Fine...When you have your own crystal meth lab, you can get up at lunchtime" is kinda my new hero.