I took the day off sick yesterday so I could take my daughter to pre-school, because the latest edition of Good Parenting magazine said you should spend quality time with your children, or some new-age hippy shit like that.

So I went.

It was mostly cool, getting to play with all those paints and drums and toys and the sandpit was choice and there was this really big slide, but some of the big kids tried climbing back up it the wrong way in order to push-in and get two consecutive turns, which was So Unfair.

I was a little traumatised, however, when a bunch of kids ganged-up on me and started asking questions about why I had no hair and I had to point out to them that NO, I SHAVE MY HEAD, THIS IS A HAIRSTYLE, Goddamn little punks, but still they’d keep asking questions about it and in the end I got fed-up and simply informed them that I had been playing cowboys and Indians and the Indians caught me and scalped me.

Tears ensued.

I then had to explain to the children that I meant the “woo-woo-feather Indians, NOT the Indians from ... India”, which, it turns out, is where many of the preschool kids are from.
The other kids were worried that the Indian-Indians were going to try and chop their hair off.

I understand their fear though.

My neighbour at work is from Bombay. For some reason he always refuses to be an Indian when we play inter-department Cowboys & Indians. And I always feel a little uneasy about having a cowboy-Indian on my side. Who ever heard of such things? I mean, isn’t that just asking for an arrow in the back, or something?

What would John Wayne do?