Day 35: Stealing Thunder

Thundercats, eh? Legendary. I've got a fantastic T-shirt with the logo printed on it - it's a tight fit, black - genuinely greyed and weathered by 8 years of wear and tear. The red transfer is cracked vertically through stretching, and aside from my beloved Interpol T-shirt it's probably the only genuinely vintage looking bit of gear I own.

I bought it when I was 17, and whilst I've seen loads of different versions over the years I've never spotted another one that's quite like the one I own. It's been envied by many over the years, and I've had to stop a variety of people - mainly women, to be honest - from stealing it.

I could never give it away of course - the Thundercats are legendary, a classic piece of kids TV history; an unforgettable part of the 80's childhood. But here's the kicker: Honestly? I don't actually remember the Thundercats. I don't remember their names, I don't remember what they got up to on a weekly basis. I vaguely remember the swords, and that irritating furry thing that followed them around, but apart from that, nothing; a guilty secret I've carried around for the best part of a decade.

I'll continue to wear the shirt though, the logo emblazoned on my chest shining as a beacon of shame. Should you see me wearing it in public, you must point at me and slowly shake your head in disappointment - eyes ablaze like a pantomime witch - and I in turn will break down onto my knees, and begin to weep uncontrollably.*

Do you know what makes it worse, though? Button Moon. I remember Button Moon, and every candid detail of the adventures of the blasted Mr. Spoon. There's no justice in the world.

When faced with this kind of adversity, who wouldn't forge a childhood?

* Actual melodrama may vary