Yesterday, the elderly mother of Little Miss Bossy Boots passed me on her creaking bicycle - it reminded me of an incident that happened at primary school many, many years ago...
For some reason I found myself sitting next to Little Miss Bossy Boots. It couldn't have been by choice - I hated her. I would have been about seven at the time I hasten to add.
Anyway, Little Miss Bossy Boots - blonde and precocious - was constantly turning round and bossing the children sat at the desk behind. It really annoyed me for some reason.
So, I decided to teach her a lesson.
I sharpened my pencil and paused, not very long, for her to turn round. I then placed the pencil in my right hand (she was to my right) such that it would pierce her when she twisted back and I affected a distracted air by gazing to my left for the benefit of any witnesses and waited.
Sure enough, a few seconds later I felt the pencil pushed and at almost the same time Little Miss Bossy Boots shrieked and burst into tears. Result.
She then blurted out through the sniffling
"Miss! Matt has stabbed me!"
Mrs Dodderer the teacher wandered over and carefully inspected Little Miss Bossy Boots arm to ascertain whether it required medical attention. It didn't.
Mrs Dodderer then turned to me and asked me: "Matt, did you stab Little Miss Bossy Boots on purpose?"
I remember answering something along the lines of: "Why would I do that? Little Miss Bossy Boots is my friend."
I could teach politicians a thing or two about lying.
Nevertheless it was a sticky moment.
Mrs Dodderer weighed it all up for a moment, whilst I affected an innocent expression, then said: "I believe you Matt this time, but if it ever happens again then you'll be over to see the Headmaster!"
Phew, it was a strict little school and a visit to the Headmaster inevitably meant the cane - ouch!
The excitement in the class died down and we returned to our work - I had got away with it.
A few minutes later I sneaked a glance at Little Miss Bossy Boots bare arm (she was wearing a red short sleeved jumper) and espied a small puncture mark ringed with graphite on the tanned flesh of her upper arm. I smiled inwardly and I had learnt a valuable lesson in life: Honesty isn't always the best policy!