Wild Wild W8
As told by Charles Feilding
Happened around: 1955
Mum and Dad finally figured out I was infatuated with Kit Carson and for Christmas bought me the complete outfit - black hat, leather chaps (simulated), and a frilly leatherette vest. Best of all was the plastic Kit Carson repeating cap rifle.

There being a chronic lack of Red Indians in Kensington in those days I took up position (Kit Carson style) behind the schoolroom door. Eventually Mike came wandering in and with a whoop I leaped out and caught him a mighty crack on the back of his head with the butt of my trusty Kit Carson rifle. To my dismay instead of falling unconscious as the Indians did Mike set up a mighty bawling and bleeding that brought Nanny running.

While she bandaged his head upstairs in the bathroom I sat disconsolate at the bottom of the stairs. I am told my last comment on the event was "I can hear you crying from here". Having disabled my beloved brother there was nothing for it but to go practice my Tiger pounces on Mr Jackson - but that's another story.