When we were young my aunt Mercy took me and my cousin Brendan camping for a week every summer holiday. In this way I experienced for the first time Kerry, Cork, camp sites, swimming in stony inlets without a lifeguard, eating cold beans for tea and sour milk and corn flakes for breakfast and the utter, inexplicable joy of not washing for a week. Golden memories, folks. In the above picture Brendan has just told a filthy joke. Note my prudish response, even then.
In the picture below we attempt impressions: Brendan does a mean Calvin sans Hobbes while I struggle to pull off Violet Beauregarde without blue body paint. Not pictured is Mercy doing a David Bailey.
Yes, yes: I know that's not very funny but the photos are cracking, aren't they? Notice especially our perverseness in failing to pose in any traditional manner. We were rebels even at age eight. At least I still am a rebel. Brendan now works in IT.
I need say no more, I think.