UNDER PRESSURE TO BE A MAN

Along with a lot of men

I’m drawn to the world of Special Forces (SAS or SBS, we could discuss which is more incredible over a pint for maybe an entire evening or weekend away). However, when God was handing out Special Forces DNA, I think I was a lastminute bolt together.

Let me hit you with the criteria for not being a soldier. I need glasses or

I’m blind, I have hayfever, dust allergies and asthma, I hate camping, get irritable when I’m cold and wet and I’m no good with Ordnance Survey maps.

These characteristics and many others mean I don’t get to write books about my exploits that you can buy in supermarkets. Books with quotes like ‘I made a gun out of my teeth’ and ‘I walked seven miles in a desert with no water carrying a camel’.

As none of this great stuff is coming my way, I’m limited to simple yet still manly pursuits. These are as close as I can get to being special forces ready. I have a hand vacuum cleaner that, when I switch attachments, I do it like James Bond building a sniper rifle assembled from a stainless steel obviouslyit’s-a-gun case.

Now, to add to my repertoire I have just purchased a… pressure washer! I know, it’s probably ‘age and stage’ but it’s great. It’s just me, armed to the hilt in the world’s smallest garden. I’m not saving the world. It won’t make a tough-guy book. But with my M16 lance, I can clean the patio. I hunt problems and sort them. I washed the bins, doorstep and a desk tidy. Then I wrote my name in the dirt and drew an amusing picture.