Childhood of an Idiot

I entered the world kicking and screaming in 1973. I put my theatrical entrance down to me craving a nicotine fix. Mom smoked, like a chimney, right through the nine months of pregnancy. As far as anyone knew back then, smoking was good for the unborn child. I'm pretty sure smoking was even permitted in the Plunket rooms mom and I used to go to before I was born. How I survived to tell the tale of my young years is a miracle—we had no seatbelts, no bike helmets, no sun screen, we had trampo...