Hey, Joe

Waiting in the lobby of the Showcase cinema at 9:30pm for 'Les Miz' to finish so I can drive C and friends home I clock that the games machine arcade is empty. I never play these machines, but as I have a £1 coin and no witnesses, and time to kill, why not have a go?

I choose a game with a nice big gun where you have to 'take out' the terrorists.

60 seconds later I have killed more hostages than terrorists and, resisting the machine's exhortations to redeem myself with more £1 coins, get fired on the spot.

I blame the gun - big though it was, there was no proper sighting mechanism. And I was trained to fire from a prone position rather than standing up like a Terminator.

We are talking some 45 years ago when I put my name down to learn to shoot as I thought it sounded cool and might reverse my school nerd rating slightly. The school had an indoor shooting range and we were offered several sessions over one term.

So it was that I learnt to load a .22 rifle, take up the correct firing position, aim, and shoot. (The trick is to breathe out and then squeeze the trigger in that still moment before you inhale again.)

The reason why I rarely hit the target only became clear much later. When I tried to take notes from the back of a lecture theatre, everyone else could read the overhead projector scribbles except me. I was short-sighted!

Just think - with the correct glasses I may have been an Olympic standard marksman!

I have never picked up a firearm since then but have often wished I had one...