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A true story.

It was during the summer holidays and I was about nine or ten. A group of the neighbourhood kids got together and had our own Superstars championship (this was back in the day when Superstars was ace).

One of the events was a race around the block and I was up against Jason, an older and considerably cooler boy. As we tore down the pavement, I was ahead of my rival right until the last bend when he put on a burst of speed and beat me convincingly.

At the finish line, hands on hips and breathing hard, I wanted to impress this fine figure of a man, to talk to him as an equal, to be accepted and received into his circle of cool.

“Fucking hell,” I said, “I thought I was going to win.”

The rest of the team gasped. It was a more innocent time and I had used a word of great power.

Unfortunately, my younger brother witnessed the scene and promptly grassed me up to my parents.