We each had our own people in Wentworth. These were the ones we somehow identified with, or at least cheered on during the fights.
Until last night, I'd forgotten about Reb Kean. She was me in there. It helped that we looked vaguely alike at the time. We were partial to James Dean, and we had a similar quiff.
Only Reb was confident and outspoken, where I was very reserved. Part of me really wanted to be Reb Kean, though perhaps without the criminality. Then I had my big moment to be just that. In real life, I became her.
A teacher was picking on my little brother. These days he's twice the size of me and quite capable of looking after himself (and everyone around him). But back then, he was just a child and I was a much more mature eighteen year old.
I was furious about how this teacher had upset my brother, but I was then (and still now) pathetic in verbal confrontations. So I picked out a denim jacket and a comb, then I marched down into the school. I found the teacher.
I can't say that I fully embraced 'what would Reb do?' That would have probably involved beating the sweet proverbial out of the man. But I definitely went in there as Reb. I would have fallen to pieces at the first hurdle, but Reb could speak her mind. And speak my mind I did.
He was told that if he didn't sort out his attitude, I'd be informing both the headteacher AND my mother. He owed my brother an apology. He gave me one. I left the room pulling my lapels forward. Anyone watching would have seen Reb stride from the building.
Then I went to pieces outside, as I returned to myself.
Perhaps I could still do with a modicum of Reb Kean in my life today!