Thanks, pops
I lost something I never had but dearly wanted.

In the 1970s a British comic (it might have been Whizzer And Chips or Cheeky, I cannae mind), announced that an upcoming issue would come out with a free joke book. Oh, the joy this brought to the young Calgacus, a connoisseur or whichever publication it was.

The foreknowledge of the arrival of this encyclopedia of wit had me quivering with excitement. I experienced sensations of excited longing and desire that I would not feel again until puberty. Seriously, this joke book was Christmas in June.

Then, after what felt like years of frenzied anticipation, the Saturday of the great free comic book arrived. Oh the glee, oh the joy.

And then I committed some very minor boyhood indiscretion and my father stopped my pocket money for a week. No cash = no comic = utter despair,

We're not talking arson, murder, theft or swearing here, the indiscretion was on a par with answering back or not sitting still.

To say pater and I are not close is an understatement. We haven't talked in quarter of a century. (Not because of the comic thing, well, not just because of it.)
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Mon 18 Aug 2008, 10:24, Reply)