Peter Pan was the boy who didn't want to grow up, a little bit like our very own John Howard who still thinks it's 1956 and has only just got around to getting himself a television.
Born in the very wealthy southwest London borough of Kensington, Chelsea, he disappeared one evening and strangely social services were not called. He then went to prance around with a small girl called Tinkerbell which can only be one of those strange names given to children born of pop-stars like Apple or Heavenlt Hirany Tiger Lily.
Not happy with his underground exploits with pirates such as Smee and a man with a strange clawed hand (that is to say illegal activties on the high seas, rather than flogging off copied movies down at the local tube station). He used to nip into the chambers of other children and drag them along with him - aiding and abetting it could be called.
One night a child who was named after the outlets of the sanitation system, John, was enjoying a restful kip when suddenly the elfin child appeared at his window. "Hello" he said "I've come to take you away from the drudgery of school and football and take you to a nether world of madness".
Someone accused me of having a Peter Pan complex and by this I thought that they meant that I refused to grow up. As it turns out they were merely pointing out my fascination with wearing green tights, running across inner-city rooftops, and flying. However I would suggest that if anyone would try to combine these ideas one would simply get thrown off the aircraft.