I remember a sports day at primary school (I'd have been about 8 years old for those who don't understand 'primary school'). There was a 1500m race. I was so last that the guy in 2nd last didn't even know I was there and he gave up and started walking to the finish. I was still, just about, doing what I called running. My zombie-shuffle-run was faster than his walk! I could see him ahead of me. I would catch him before the line! I would overtake him! I would not be last for once!

Then the assembled parents noticed me. The bastards started cheering me on. The guy in front of me was clearly confused. Looked around. Saw the parents weren't cheering him on. They were looking behind him. He glanced back. Saw me plodding after him. Urged his legs into a lumbering gallumph.

He beat me.

I was last again.

Fuck you for supporting me, you absolute shower of cunts!

Edit to reflect: I’m 59 and that memory is still clear as a bell in my head. Among other not so great ones…