In the  1976 chart topper No Charge, a little boy presents his mother with an itemised bill for all the household chores he’s performed. Rather than tell him to bugger off, the mother, a master of passive aggression, decides to use the medium of song to present her child with a list of her own:

For nine months I carried you

Growing inside me – no charge

For the nights I’ve sat up with you,

Doctored you, prayed for you – no charge

For the time and the tears.

And the cost through the years, there’s no charge

When you add it all up.

The full cost of my love is no charge.

Duly chastened – or possibly just creeped out – the boy decides he’s already been “paid in full” (although whether he mows the lawn or makes his bed ever again is yet to be confirmed).

Read the full piece at the New Statesman.