Pleased As Punch
I turned 47 yesterday and my son decided it was time to start punching me. He's heading towards those teenage rebellious years and has all that pent-up anger, so I can understand his thinking. He, of course, claims the birthday gift (two pairs of inflatable boxing gloves with stylish inflatable headgear) was all about encouraging me to have fun while getting fit. I almost believed that until we went into the back garden last night and he proceeded to knock me senseless. Mrs. Z had to rush out and break things up.
"Keep it clean guys, " she told us, "the people want to see a fight, not an execution."
I blame these video games the kids play today. All that violence without consequences. My son thinks that if he knocks my head off he'll get three chances to do it again before the game is over.
It could be worse. I've just been listening to Stuart and Tam with Tony Roper on Off The Ball talking about the games that children used to play when they were allowed out of doors. I remembered most of them, but not knifey.
Knifey, it turns out, was a game which involved chucking table knives into the grass in front of your opponent . The idea was to see how close you could get before the other guy chickened out.
A listener called in to the show to describe how one of his pals turned up with a carving knife and then threw it straight in to another kid's wee toe.
If my son suggests something like that I think I'll throw in the towel.
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