"Mum, Dad, I'm bored." I can't remember exactly how annoying I was as a small boy (not half as much as I was as a teenager eh Mum ?), but hopefully I didn't utter this phrase as often as some kids. I joined the Cubs as a nipper, progressed to Scouts and eventually I was kicked out of the Scouts, along with Stuart, Ivan, Beaky Dawson and Sniffer Lambert (we were a bad influence to younger children, older children and hardened criminals apparently) to form Burley's first Venture Scout unit. We hiked, swam, climbed, potholed, abseiled, ran, jumped, fell in, fell over and camped on most of Yorkshire, Cumbria and Northumberland during my time with the association. The Scouting Association rulebook was called P.O.R., Policy Organisation Rules, we were a more freeform unit and christened it Press On Regardless. Although my Dad always was (and still is) my hero and role model (Mum too, don't feel left out), two blokes in the scouting movement had a great impact on my upbringing, Tom and George, our errant, erstwhile and upstanding Scout leaders molded us into their own image and did their level best to turn us into decent, God fearing young men, even to the extent of handing out the worlds most lethal wedgies when the situation demanded. (I clearly remember Ivan's pained expression as the legs of his underpants were hooked over his shoulders). As boys we did Bob-A-Job, and what a great idea it was, although in this sad, modern age the overwhelming and largely misplaced fear of pedophiles and child abuse has probably done away with Bob-A-Job. We were never abused, except perhaps by the old dear that asked us to mow her lawn for 50p and then showed us into an overgrown expanse of virgin rainforest the same size as Surrey. We went on amazing, and insane, adventure weekends as older boys ( and girls too at this point, a wahey was often in order). I remember building a raft from oildrums and driftwood and floating it onto a reservoir in order to light a flare on it, abseiling down a cliff to build an A Frame at the bottom (this involved much blood, tears and heroism, more later) and blowing up a Zephyr dinghy with our mouths in order to row a frying pan full of water 200 yards along the shore, why ? Who knows, it was great fun though. I walked through the Dales, the Peaks, the West Highland Way and many parts of Norway, some of them unmapped to this day. I went down Gaping Gill on the worlds most rickety chairlift and played football in the cavern below. I pushed a toilet on a wheeled sled from Settle to Burley, and even better, while the village rough boys spent their nights in cheap cider fuelled pointlessness on the park wall, I drank with the boys, camped out miles from anywhere, smoked fags, drank brandy (hello Anne!) and (look away Mum) had sex with girls, (just to make this clear, one girl at one time, I don't wish to portray my self as a bigger stud muffin than you know me to be). To put it mildly, we weren't the most orthodox of Venture Scout units. I shall return to this topic in future, along with the Quartermasters Song (cheers for the soup John!), super keeno Rob and the 40-1 home vote, the great Bradley Wood Collapsing Tent/Brillo Pad Disaster and why you should never tell wifeswappers you're hung like a Brahma Bull. Again though, as with my recent music post, I seemed to have wandered far from my original point, which was, get your children into the Scouts, it is simply the most marvelous childrens organisation there is, and as parents, you'll bless the Scouts when they take your teenage offspring off your hands and leave you alone with your partner for the weekend. "Here ya go Jimmy, here's a tenner, bugger off camping for the week." Join the Scouts, see the world, meet interesting people and tie knots in them, to this day I can still whip up a Reef Knot, or impress the ladies with my Round Turn And Two Half Hitches, I was once arrested for demonstrating a Sheep Shank though.