I was a goody-goody at school. 

I only once received a detention and that was for getting 0% in a PE exam.   I failed the practical by being unable to climb a rope and failed the theory by being unable to spell “apparatus” (which, in Latin, means: “the Romans did somersaults”).

What I did have was a lot of red ink over my books.  If I knew I was going to be this unsuccessful academically, I’d have bought shares in Quink when I started secondary school.

If I had a £1 for as many times as I had “SEE ME” emblazoned in red ink on my workbooks, I’d be (like Rodney) a millionaire.

Most aspects of my class and homework were marked out of ten.  For most of my secondary education I never knew there were numbers higher than five.  Or that there were colours other than red.

I’d dread getting my books back.  I’d open them up to the corrected work only to assume the teacher had been the victim of some savage attack, such was the amount of red on the page. 

This could well have been the case, as our PE teacher modelled his teaching techniques on Jack the Ripper.