Right, David Mitchell can have his own category.
In some ways, I've grown up into a slightly shorter replica of my dad. In this particular, minor, way, we both pour a great deal of bile and contemptuous scorn into the word "football" - enunciating both its syllables, Foot. Ball.
Though my dad was actually on a school sports team, which would have been pretty much unthinkable for me. I can't quite look back at school P.E. and laugh yet - it's more looking back and screaming "Nononono make the memories stop I beg for a swift death".
And remember, I played with the girls! Well... I'm not sure that you can call them "girls", more "enraged she-beasts from the Book of Vile Darkness who've been handed blunt instruments and then cheered on in their bloodshed". If I'd had to share sports lessons with the other boys, I wouldn't be alive to write this.
Menstruation? It does rather jar with my sense of self, but I'm glad that the sports teachers never kept track of my menstrual cycle. Eight periods a month is probably not the ordinary number.
I guess the attendant anaemia would have explained my height and weight...
Anyway, come on, people. Give me a positive view of sport. One that doesn't recall me having my head trodden into freezing mud.
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Unfortunately school sport is taught by PE teachers - - that's where it all goes wrong. Because they were GOOD at it and hence loved it (and some are sadistic bastards, too). The only school sport I ever enjoyed was tennis and then what I did in the sixth form - a tiny bit of canoeing (until they closed the pool) a tiny bit of rock-climbing (until they lost the staff qualified to take us) a bit of golf (I was rubbish but it was fun) and table tennnis (which I still enjoy). Not everyone is suited to team games and it's time schools realised this. But they never taught us the rules for the hated hockey and it wasn't until years later that I realised how it SHOULD look if played well!
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