None the less, if the question of whether the world needs more children is a tough if rather futile one to call, the question of whether the world is worthy of one’s own children is harder still. Can it really be right to have children when they’ll grow up in a world dominated by narratives of social and environmental catastrophe the worst aspect of which, following the likely failure of my own generation to act, is that the ability to alter the course of events may well have disappeared? Is the inheritance of a guilt- and insect-ridden Armageddon – and a secondhand Range Rover – really what we would wish upon our heirs?