Mr Timid Come Good.

Probably as a result of the manner of my upbringing I grew into a timid sort of teenager. I shied away from the big boys for fear of being laughed at, and girls terrified me so I shied away from those also.

Naturally I wanted to be one of the big boys, I wanted to prowl the school corridors and terrify the juniors, because that's what big boys did. One morning at School the Army had a recruiting team displaying their wares in the school hall so naturally I sloped along and stood at the back.

They were big, meaty guys, with shaved heads and cool uniforms, and as they gave the school a pep talk on life in the military I couldn't help but notice the girls who were agog at these military paragons of masculinity, they pursed there lips and oohed at the show of testosterone.

Then I thought - that's it! That's the life for me, so straight after leaving school I took the Queens Shilling and signed on the dotted line.

Many years later I became one of the mean ones. The ones who had perfected the look that could kill. I had grown and filled out, and my years of service had taught me not to take any shit (ask any infantryman!). We were on exercise in Calgary, Canada and I had two stripes on my arm to prove my worth. One weekend we were given passes to enter the nearby town, God knows I've long forgotten it's name, but we headed straight for the bars to show the locals how Brits hold their ale.

Anyway, after an hour or two had passed a fight broke out between myself and this Canadian dog face, in seconds everyone was going for it as the fists and teeth flew everywhere, it all was stopped by the bouncers but not before I'd laid out two knuckle heads who thought they were Jack Shit.

Afterwards I became a local hero among the Company, I'd made it, I was a big boy.