But at least I came round then to knowing for absolute sure where I got certain urges from. Nurture, not nature, isn't that what they say? All those dolls and dresses came back to me in a mad rush. And the cute wee panties with no place to pee out of. And the way she got me to walk, like I was modelling clothes or something. And the toys she gave me. I don't even want to think about it. And mother of God, I had more Toodles dolls than you could shake a stick at.

I didn't know what in hell I was half the time,except it was a hell I'd never been taught in school. And believe you me, I got plenty of hell from the Christian Brothers. Only their hell was narrower and, how can I say it, burnier? It consisted of being constantly reminded of the dangers of the flesh that had to be kept down if we valued our God-given souls. Let me tell you now,  there's nothing like a good Catholic education.

And then of course, there were my extracurricular gender studies which weren't what you would call the best either. I'm blaming John Bartley Stroker for that. He it was who used to keep us informed, if that's the right word, at a workshop down the breakneck steps.We were the Dirtbird gang and he was our leader and the lane jutting off from the breakneck steps was our headquarters.

Some of the other gang members didn't want me in because I was a bit of a pansy, but John Bartley insisted. I always had this feeling that he fancied me, even though he never made a move. He was sixteen I think, two years older than the rest of us, but he seemed to me like about twenty at the time. Anyway, most of his talks were about this thing he called corpulation which the Dirtbirds were sorely ignorant of.

"With corpulation," he explained one day,"you've got to get her on her back. If you don't get her on her back your jiz won't go in. Gravity you see."

 I think it was Mugs McGuire that asked: "What happens if you pee into her by mistake, Boss?"

 "She dies," said John Bartley, and his revelation was greeted with a collective intake of breath.