OK. So for those of you who would like to learn more about me from my childhood up to my adult years, here is another riveting instalment of my life.

Years 4 upwards

I’m cheating again. I don’t know what age this will take me up to, I can’t really remember my teenage/early adult years so I might end the story here.

I started school aged four. I was on a good little screw. I got paid £1.95 per hour for six hours attendance. It was Government initiative scheme to pay kids to go to school to keep the truancy figures down. Of course, it all changed during the Falklands conflict, as they had to pay for that instead. That war has got a lot to answer for. I was told not to eat corned beef, as it came from Argentina and it could been poisoned. Good job I didn’t like corned beef back then really.

One memory from my first day at school was walking into the urinals to go for a ‘wee’ (I didn’t say piss back then) and seeing two other boys in the toilets having a ‘wee’. I stood up to the trap, then proceeded to pull my trousers and pants down. The two boys were laughing at me. I thought to myself,

“What am I doing wrong here? Why have these boys got their winky (I didn’t say cock or nob back then) through a hole in their trousers?”

It was then that I realised people used their zips in public, rather than pull their trousers down to their ankles. I always seemed to find things out the hard way, something I also do to this day.

School seemed to be pretty cool during the early years. Games of army, kiss-chase, show me yours and I’ll show you mine, and of course, British Bulldog against the Fourth Year pupils. This would separate the men from the boys. We also used to play a game with a tennis ball, and see who could through it over the school building. My throw was such a spazzy one at the time, I could barely make the bottom windows of the school.

I was what you might call “thick as pigshit” as a child. I once asked for a hotdog without the sausage. I just didn’t twig on that the sausage was infact, pretty much an integral part of the meal. This story gets brought up at the dinner table pretty much every time I go round my parents for a meal.

I didn’t even have the courage to ask Darth Vader for his autograph when he was on vacation in Barnstaple. I didn’t cry or anything, I think it was just because there were a lot of kids around and I felt a little embarrassed to ask him.I should have really, I mean, it’s not every day a Dark Lord of the Sith turns up in your hometown, is it? My Sister got it for me in the end, no harm done. I was probably about seven or eight then.

If I remember any more random shit, I’ll let you know sometime. Thanks for reading.