KOLD WAR KIDZ

Back in Preston in the mid-60's it seemed like a war zone. There were toy bullets and missiles flying everywhere.

Hiding by the  privvy my eager brother was ready to launch a blazing attack with his Sekiden pistol, his pockets stuffed with little boxes of that strange crumbly silver ball shot.

Like any decent spy my nephew would skulk in the shadows near the incinerator assembling his Secret Sam rifle from his briefcase - stock, scope, barrel and a choice of long or short plastic bullets.

My other brother would be dressed in his army greens brandishing his home-made plank rifle, leaping from the swing cocking the dead-bolt he nicked off the gate, his water-filled jiff-lemon grenades dangling from his belt. Formidable as they all were, the really never stood a chance against me.

I really was Top Gun (or maybe Top Cat!)  for a while, as Santa had delivered the ultimate weapon, the Johnny Seven One Man Army. The mere mention of it's name was enough to send my Sibs running for the shed. The sight of it would have them quaking in their Wayfinders, the hidden compass needles in their heels spinning wildly.

Once set up on the tripod, my OMA would unleash every concievable type of munitions short of an H-bomb! Missiles, shells, bullets and for close-range work round the pigeon coop there was a handy detachable pistol.

I always wished they'd have included a small plastic dagger as well but even so, my Sibs really didn't have a chance and spent most of the time 'dead' counting to fifty! Probably totally un-PC these days!