If there was a way of writing this very, very quietly, just a little whisper, that's what I'd do.

Shouting out the news might make it go away, you see. But here it is..... I think my son, Matt, has moved out.

Well, in some ways he's definitely done that. He's gone to live in a bedsit a few miles away, sharing a large converted house with a a nice Eastern European lady and her child, assorted shift workers and possibly a few shifty people like himself.

Up to now Matt's always insisted he'd never "live like that" and if I refused to allow him into Madmum's Cottage he'd simply dump himself on his Nana and Grambo, leeching off them instead.

For a month or so prior to this development he was on police bail following an incident when he grabbed me round the neck, and a subsequent attempt to use one of my now missing credit cards.

This meant he was legally not allowed to visit my address for a while - and I asked for the seaside home of my parents to be included as well on the bail conditions.

So he sofa-surfed from mate's house to mate's house.

Just days ago, as the police bail neared its end, Matt called to say he wanted "just one more thing" from me.

It was the deposit on a bedsit he'd found, and the first couple of weeks' rent.

After some panic over whether this was simply his latest scam, I decided to stump up the cash as long as I could have a receipt from the landlord. And that's what I've now got.

What's more, Matt reappeared at Madmum's Cottage this weekend and packed up a vanload of his belongings, including vital items like his telly and Playstation. This makes it all seem more real.

However, there are still a few problems in all this. For a start, I haven't seen any sign yet of him actually getting a job to pay rent on his new home.

What's more he's rapidly running out of money. I rounded up the bedsit deposit so he would have enough to get through a week or two. Just enough for food and train tickets to job interviews.

No, let's get that right. You or I would have stretched out the cash and shopped sensibly, but this is a mad teenager we're talking about.

By Tuesday he was on the phone again, looking for a handout.

Not one of you will guess what he claimed to have spent all the money on.

Drugs? No. A Playstation game? No. Scratchcards? No.

Look, we might as well give up on this. He said: "It's all gone because I bought a lampshade to do up my new room a bit."

So far I've handed over no more cash. Perhaps a lightbulb will go off in his head.

Or perhaps not.