Not all scars are pink of course. The parents of boys who acquire pink scars are usually so upset at the girly colour of their boys horrendous injury reminder, that they apply industrial strength bleach in a futile attempt to whiten it; or, for the more ambitious, a blowtorch, which actually might work.

Many feminist blogs discuss the issue of child development. How much do boys really gravitate to playing mud in the face games and how much do girls gravitate to making me pretty games? Wait, if we’re talking about making pretty with the mud packs, that’s the exact same thing isn’t it? This isn’t one of those blogs. This is not an academic theory of gendered behaviour. This is a record of exchanges I have observed and overheard. Ladies and nicemen (inclusive to men who cannot be gentle due to a genetic propensity to clumsiness), I give you: The British Public.

[To give to a bit of context, I should explain, I’ve been working in retail at a theme park for almost six months now. I see children and their parents and I see them approach the shiny sweets and sticky items ( which weren’t sticky before they got their grubby mitts on them) and I see them paw and drool (parents are so embarrassing).

Today’s incident: at the confectionery.

Dad to son: want some Maoams? What colours? Red and yellow. Here you go.

Dad to daughter: Want pink? Here you go.

Son: I want pink.

Dad: You can’t have pink! You’re a boy!

The daughter got told she wants pink, but when the boy asks for the same thing his sister gets the Dad makes fun of him. Double standard.

Example 2: at the toys.

Mother: No, you can’t have that. It says ‘Girl’s’ on it. Do you want to turn into a girl?

That is how sex change surgery works, as I understand it. By the magic vested in commercial transactions. Packaging is holy writ and not to be disregarded. From their position in the store and the fact that the packaging had ‘girl’s’ on it, I deduce that the boy wanted a toy plastic scooter. They come in purple, pink and baby blue.

Example 3: toys again.

Dad to son: you don’t want that – look, there’s guns over here!

What was the boy looking at? I can certainly say it was something colourful. Possibly the  sand toys, loved by all genders. (I wasn’t able to get equipment on him to track his gaze, but, again, I can judge by his position in the shop.) God forbid that my boy should turn out a nancy, better by far a murdering bastard! At least he’ll be a MANLY bastard! I can only assume, that is what was going through Dad’s head.

From my observations, I can say that young boys like pink.  It isn’t just that pink has all the best flavours. I think kids just like bright colours. Children’s tv and illustration tend to agree with me and go for the whole explosion in a paint factory look. I also have a theory that EVERYONE secretly likes bright fun colours, but adults often pretend not to, because they’re trying to look sophisticated. I’ve walked with a black tide of commuters coming towards me towards London Bridge tube station in a magenta jacket and felt the world a very strange place. Whose funeral are they going to? And this was before the credit crunch. (Credit crunch is too happy a phrase for it really. It sounds like a new flavour of Monster Munch, or Jordan’s latest development in granola.)

A Positive Incident. Boy (older than in the other examples – ten or so) wants a brightly coloured plastic fashion ring. Mother agrees, doesn’t bat a eye (apart from at the price) or mock. Then again, another boy goes ‘ooh, look at those’ to his mother and his mother assumes he’s pointing them out for her and tries them on herself. Since this came after the first incident, I wonder.