The fact that I’m wistful for the days when adults could physically assault children with impunity would suggest I am a natural fit for my new age group, the 40s

“WHAT are you going to do about it?” He had a point. The no doubt necessary rebalancing of rights, between adults and children, means there’s very little I can do about a couple of small boys squirting water at me in a park.

I am not within my rights to deliver what would be known in Cork as a funt up the backside or to throw their super-soakers over a wall. Or call Lugs Brannigan, the legendary Dublin policeman and exponent of summary justice, to hand out an ear-boxing. Those days are gone, both from a criminal and litigation perspective. Any young lad receiving so much as an ‘eff off’ could get a battery of shrinks to diagnose PTSD and emotional distress.

Anyways, the two boys were fairly confident I wouldn’t be able to catch them. They said as much. And I quote: “You won’t catch me and him; you’re too old.” Maybe they guessed my sore spot on the matter, as I had just that week turned 40.