James’s parents both had terrible tempers. To avoid getting caught in the cross-fire, he always did everything asked of him growing up and was known for being a good little boy at school. He didn’t care about being called a goodie-two shoes, because as long as he was good, everything would be okay at home. When he himself had the occasional temper tantrum, the guilt drove him straight to church where he would confess to the Father O’Donovan. As he grew older, and went through college and his first job, he did begin to wonder whether there was more to life than being good.
Over a glass of wine one Friday night, his dear friend Celia mentioned a new singing group and wondered if James might like to join.
“They are a bit different,” said Celia with a smile.
James was intrigued. He liked singing almost as much as he liked Cecilia.
He was not disappointed. It was a mixed group and they sang lots of songs he liked.
At the end of the session Celia came over and pressed a box into his hand.
“They really like you,” she said. “Come again next week.”
The box contained a leather thong and a note.
James was shocked. What kind of group was this? Was it a chat-up line from Celia? And did he really want to go there anyway?
He rang Celia; she laughed at him.
“Look, just be a good boy, will you? It’s no big deal.”
James wasn’t sure he wanted to be a good boy anymore, but he still turned up to rehearsal with it on. He felt ashamed at being conforming once again and yet strangely liberated as he walked through the door.
A handsome young singer called Ed walked alongside him. Sensing his discomfort, he caught his eye and smiled:
“Me, too!”
James smiled. Perhaps he was now the rebel incarnate.
*
“This one’s from Sylvia.”
“Somehow I found it very upsetting,” said Mabel. “I don’t like the idea of a Catholic boy being led astray.”
“Oh, really? Is the pot perhaps being rude to the kettle?”
“What do you mean?”
“You are hardly in a position to pontificate.”