There was a game we played as children called King of the Castle. The aim was to climb to the highest point possible and then start singing "I’m the king of the castle and you’re the dirty rascal!" These high points could be anything: dirt mounds, walls, trees, ladders... The kings were always the brave ones, the risk takers, or those with ape-like qualities. The rascals were the cautious children or the slower ones.
Every so often I have K.o.t.C flashbacks usually brought on by somebody standing where I’d like to be. Take the sailor on the deck of this battleship. He is up there watching us. Daring us to make our move, to squeeze through the protective fencing around where the ship was moored. And having done that, to try and get on board. Instead, because we are allegedly wise, reasonable and cautious, we just stand a look for a bit then sigh and walk away. If the wind is right, it’s possible to hear the sailor singing, under his breath “I’m the king of the castle…”