The Strange Incident of the Long Ginger Plait

I've just been reading Silverback's most enjoyable blog where he has posted a rather scary video of a woman footballer, Liz Lambert, committing an interesting range of assaults on other players. At one point she grabs one girl's hair and uses it to hurl her to the floor.

It looks truly terrible. Send the woman off! Send her to jail! - - ah, yes, all very well, but I have to confess to you I once did a somewhat similar thing myself.

Mind you, I was only ten at the time. And games hadn't even started yet - we were all lined up outside in our PE kit on the playground waiting to start athletics on the field.

Though, in my case, the word "athletic" was not appropriate, for I wasn't very athletic. All I could do was swim and there wasn't any water on the playing field. I couldn't run very well and I certainly couldn't jump. I am sure that I was a big disappointment to my mother who excelled at all sports.

I was good at the classroom stuff though, in general. And because I wore glasses and was always reading and generally worked hard at it all, the word "Swot" was sometimes directed at me. Not often, because it was quite a swotty school and I had quite a few swotty friends. Usually it didn't bother me.

But that day, Karen Pegg, with her one long ginger plait and her skinny runner's legs was standing in front of me, and decided to talk to her Horrid Friend next to me about how Daphne in the row behind behind was such a swot, and was teacher's pet, and had glasses, and frizzy hair (also true by the way - hated it then and still hate it now) and couldn't run to save her life.

And that time it really got to me. I never tried to be teacher's pet - I just got on with my work because you got a lot less hassle at school that way.

So I did the only possible thing. Which was to grab Karen Pegg's long ginger plait, which reached down to her waist, and then pull it as hard as possible. Which was really very, very hard. Because I wasn't any good at running, but my ancestors were Eastern European peasants, and I was - and am! - quite strong.

Karen screamed like a girl. Which, let's face it, she was. Though a rather spiteful one. She screamed and screamed. I think it must have hurt a lot.

The teacher came. "She - - she - - she pulled my plait!" sobbed Karen.

"She did, Miss," said Karen's Horrid Friend whose name I forget (I can still picture her face though).

"Who did?" asked the teacher. "Who pulled your plait?"

"Daphne did, Miss," chorused Karen and Horrid Friend together.

The teacher, bewildered, looked at Swotty Teacher's Pet Daphne, who was standing in the row behind, engrossed in the book she carried everywhere, as usual, with her other-worldly expression as she remained in her imaginary world, away from the realities of Physical Education.

"Don't be ridiculous, girls," said Teacher. "Daphne would never do a horrible thing like that. She's always very well-behaved. How dare you make up such a terrible story?"

"But, Miss - - "

"That's enough! I don't want to hear another word. Now let's go down onto the playing field, shall we?"

Swotty Teacher's Pet Daphne quietly put her book in her pocket and followed the others onto the field.

But, of course, a lot of time has passed since then. Who knows where Karen Pegg is now? Ah, well, we were only children then. And, Karen, if by any chance you're reading this, I feel it's time to say something to you about this incident.

And it's this.

Daphne Ten Points, Karen No Points, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!