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My life's biggest regret is that I never made an attempt when I was a cub to achieve the gold arrow award. The bronze and silver ones were a piece of piss - you just had to have tied some knots and boiled an egg and maybe taken a photograph of something. I think you also had to be able to undo a bra with one hand, but maybe not in fact.

Rudimentary badges like those were just dished out at the end of the evening followed by a hand-shake, a salute and dob-a-dob-rub thing, or whatever it was. If you think that sounds sordid, please do get a grip, this was the cubs not the Catholic church. All our leader dudes were dudettes anyway.

But anyways, the Gold Arrow, that was something special. Guard of honour stuff. They even made you a cake. There were a couple of guys in our pack who had them. My next door neighbour was one. He was just naturally the kind of guy who had those sorts of things. He also made five gold runs in a row on Blockbusters and was kind to strangers.

Great at all sports he was too, probably never had acne either. Bastard..he's an evangelist now - no word of a lie. I find solace in the fact that he's probably still a virgin. Had the bra thing been a real task in getting the gold arrow he'd have never made it.

So anyway yes..I never had the level of commitment required to see the tasks through. I'd have had to swim too far, camp for too long, do things out of the goodness of my own heart and to be fair it just wasn't me. I'm not even sure why I was the cubs in the first place. I was a heartless c*nt even when I was 8. I certainly had no intention of doing anything for the elderly - they made me feel sick. I've never looked good in shorts either.

My time in the cubs came to an end shortly after one of those jamboree things. I'm not sure if the following incident was the catalyst for my exit from the cubs, or merely hastened my departure, but the former seems likely.

There was obviously many other packs of cubs at this thing and there was some rivalries developing. I was very very small and wheezy at that age, and while those that knew me were well aware of how viscous and completely lacking in remorse I was which made up for my lack of size and deterred the bullies, new kids who encountered me were caught unawares.

I was targeted by a fat boy almost immediately upon my arrival. I had him pegged as a standard bully so was not too concerned. I did a few simple equations and felt my best opportunity to put some hurt and retribution on the kid was at lunch time...a standard play against a fat kid.

It was hot, it seemed that we had proper summers back then. He was eating and obviously a fat kid eating has no peripheral awareness so I was able to take advantage of his lack of focus on his surroundings and place a significant lump of jam from one of my sandwiches on his back.

The wasps were all over him in minutes.

His screams are delivered to my conscience even now in moments of reflection. I'm a different man you see these days, but back then I had no pity. To me it was all routine. Anyway I was observed planting the jam and although the memories are hazy I think I was encouraged to leave. All's I can remember is seeing this kid flailing about as if he were engulfed in invisible flames making squealing noises just barely audible to humans. Bats were falling out of trees though by the dozen. They do hurt to be fair to him, those wasp stings.

So yes...one of my few regrets is that - the Gold arrow thing not the wasp torture.

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