My uncle Mahmood was kicked by a teenage girl on a bus last week. He is a lecturer in sociology. I mention this, because of all the people this young lady could have kicked that day, he was the only one likely to try and draw her into a discussion about the cultural implications of her behaviour. Uncle Mahmood rather reasonably asked her to explain how one might, given her behaviour, differentiate between her and a barnyard animal (the example he used was a goat). She kicked him once more, then disembarked with her friends, giggling. My uncle is a black belt in karate. I don’t know if I would have acted with his restraint, but then I don’t practice martial arts. My own sporting accolades never went much beyond a near-perfect forward roll in 1984.
