I was doing my thing, prowling on London rooftops in green tights, peering into the bedrooms of young middle class ladies – pretty standard night really. One silly bint had left her window open, so I crawled in and made myself thoroughly acquainted. Wendy – an alright sort of girl, despite the shit name. A bit naïve though; I had to carefully guide her towards ‘Never Never Land’. But after that it was straight on till morning, let me tell you. Unfortunately her little brother was in the room; I had to cart him out the window too, after I’d finished explaining myself. Meanwhile, I’ve been languishing in Hook’s dungeon for ‘lost boys’, hoping the goateed bastard doesn’t grab hold of my Tinkerbell. He never wants me to grow up, you see.

Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie’s deeply suspect imagination, 1904.