Tom McLaughlin - The Day I Became the Most Wanted Boy in the World

This man is dangerous. Probably the most dangerous in the entire world. Whats he going to do? Hes taking his time and

What a safety shot for Mark Shelby! He really does have John Wiggins on the ropes.

These two heavyweights have been duking it out for the last half hour and not one ball has been potted. I hope youre enjoying this as much at home as we are in the commentary box.

YES! Pete gasped. Im so excited I can hardly breathe!

For Pete, snooker was a passion. It was right up there with rearranging his sock drawer and having a nice sit-down.

While others bungee-jumped off bridges or free-climbed cliffs with little more than a pair of trainers and a silly haircut, Petes adrenaline ride was a thrill-a-minute roller coaster of snooker balls, chalk and softly spoken commentators.

Nothing, but nothing was going to interrupt his afternoon in front of his tiny TV.

yelled his mum. Pete! Can you hear me?!

Why cant they give me a moments peace? Pete huffed as he got up from the bean bag that hed carefully plumped, squeezed and moulded, ready for an afternoon of white-knuckle excitement.

Yes, Mother? Pete replied. He always called his mum Mother when he was annoyed with her.

Less of the Mother malarkey. I need parsnips, she called up the stairs of their small home in Barnet. Pete and his mum and dad had always lived here; it was on the edge of the city and the edge of any excitement.

Petes dad, Malcolm used to be in the Navy before becoming a washing-machine salesman in a local store. This was where he met Petes mum, Diane. She was a fridge saleswoman at the time, and soon their love blossomed in the electrical appliances department.

Im making parsnip and cheese bake, Mum continued as Pete plodded down the stairs, and without parsnips, its just a bowl of hot cheese. I need you to go to the shops. She handed Pete a bag-for-life, a handful of coins and a shopping list.

Cant Dad do it? Pete asked, his voice whining with frustration. Theres a terrific match on TV any minute now someone might even pot a ball.

No. Whenever your father goes to the shops, he goes rogue. Remember the time I sent him out for stamps and he came back with an exercise bike? Besides which, hes in the middle of tending to his hanging tulip. Mum rolled her eyes and pointed out of the window.

There was Dad in the front garden, watering can in one hand, feather duster in the other. Would you like some water, Gertrude? Dad smiled, giving the flower a little dust.

Hes naming them now. Mum sighed. I caught him talking about a Jemima in his sleep the other day. I was about to wallop him when I realized he was talking about one of his roses. Mum paused and looked Pete up and down. What are you wearing and where did you find those clothes?

Oh, erm, nothing. It was the first thing I found in the wardrobe, he said sheepishly.

Pete was dressed in a large shirt, bow tie and waistcoat just like a snooker player.

The outfits were one of the many reasons he liked the game; the players dressed in a way that added to the sense of occasion.

Pete wondered what it would be like if other sports took their appearance as seriously as snooker players. Surely the world would be a better place if footballers wore tweed and racing drivers sported cravats and sensible shoes.

Which wardrobe? Mum asked and folded her arms. Have you been going through your dads stuff again? You know he doesnt like it when you dress in his clothes. Have you forgotten that time you borrowed his white shirt and he saw you coming down the stairs in the dark and thought it was his own ghost?! Mum shook her head. I had to chase him around the house for half an hour before I could convince him otherwise.

Well, if youd just buy me my own snooker outfit I wouldnt have to! Pete snapped.

Theres no such thing! Mum said. I go into shops and ask for it and they look at me like Ive gone loopy.

Oh, Pete maybe if you wore normal clothes you might make a friend or two? Wouldnt that be wonderful?

Bye Mum! Pete said, folding the shopping list and tucking it into the shallow pocket of his waistcoat; a place normally reserved for a square of snooker chalk.

It was true that Pete didnt have any friends. He once had a childhood friend, but that ended when he pushed Pete down a bumpy slide in the local park resulting in not one, but two grazed knees. Ever since then, Pete, like the Arctic wolf, preferred to operate alone.

Remember the parsnips and the other bits and bobs that Ive written down on the list! Mum shouted after him.

Fine! Pete snorted and headed for the front door. I bet Mark Shelby never had to put up with this.

He stashed the change in his trouser pocket, scrunched the bag-for-life under his arm and narrowed his eyes as the bright of day hit him square in the face.

said a voice from behind a bush in the garden.

Take my money, my trousers take it all! JUST DONT HURT ME! Pete wailed.

There was a moment of silence, then Pete got a soaking of epic proportions and promptly fell to the ground.

HAHA! the voice yelled and started to laugh.

Pete shook his head the way a dog would after getting out of the bath. He wiped the water from his face, eyed up the dastardly villain and slowly got up. There, on the grass in front of him was a small boy. He was holding a huge water pistol that was almost twice his size, covered in silver plastic telescopes and levers it could almost have been the real thing. The boy had stopped laughing and now had a very worried look on his face. He was called Sammy, otherwise known to Pete as his massively annoying next-door neighbour.