Molesworth

by Geoffrey Willans

  2ND MUSHROOM: Here’s HERE. THERE’S there. THEM’S they. He, she or it equal the 3rd person sing and ushually go in the nomminative.

  1ST MUSHROOM: Higgnerant. Here THEY come.

  2ND MUSHROOM: Ugh!

  MOLESWORTH: (stepping forth from the space ship) Ugh!

  they glare at each other, mutually repulsive. He canot eat me for brekfast and i canot eat HIM. Impasse. Nothing for it but to go home.

  ZOOSH! ZOOOOO.…!

  Wot’s wrong? Anything the matter? Try the boost. Flog the reactor. Why did i not marry a mechanic? ECT . . . . . .

  And so it prove my point q.e.d. There is only one thing. Tomorow is another day and there will be geom. eng. fr. lat. botany, rest on the bed and then ho for more. Life is tuough. It depends whether you can take it.

  2nd Mushroom: It’s THEM. From THERE

  3

  HOW TO SURVIVE IN

  THE ATOMMIC AGE

  GUIDE TO GURLS

  As i sit among my faded memories and old relicks e.g. lat books, bungy, caterpillers, mice and old stamps which i hav not stuck in, wot do i find but my Skoolboy’s diary. This tell me that it is 7021 miles from London to Bangkok, also my size shoe is 6 watch number 234547 and oxford won the boat race in 1896 so wot i sa so wot. At this moment fotherington-Tomas skip in –

  ‘O molesworth,’ he cri. ‘Do read me your diary go on o you mite.’

  ‘Well – ’ i sa, flatered in spite of myself.

  ‘Goody goody i hav always admired your prose work altho sometimes it is a little strong especially when they set us “Wot i think about masters.” ’

  So the little wet curl up on the floor and i read:

  JAN 1. did nuthing.

  JAN 2. mucked about.

  JAN 3. Went to a party.

  ‘Genius,’ cri fotherington-Tomas, claping his hands. ‘Economical, stark, compressed t.s. eliot himself. . . . .’

  But i do not listen for i think about parties and parties mean gurls chiz chiz chiz. . . . .

  All girls are soppy. This fact is recognised by all boys and the mesage is clear but seme to become dimmer as they draw on to man’s estate chiz. Eventually it fade altogether and all is lost in a welter of SOP and SLUSH, like you get in the films they dare not show us at Skool. e.g. darling chiz i guess this is the end. Gurl cries tho heaven knos why, she luv other men beter and hav a husband anyway. Man then go into the night from which he should hav never emerged. ‘How beautiful,’ sa your mum to your pater who is sitting despondently behind her. ‘If only you could be noble like that ocasionaly.’

  ‘It is only a world of makebelieve,’ he repli. ‘You must face up to reality.’

  ‘Reality,’ sa molesworth 2, ‘is so unspeakably sordid it make me shudder’.

  He take a bullseye and pater lite his pipe. The matter is closed.

  If we are to believe the books gurls read life at their skools is full of jolity and xcitement. There are always some tremendous PROBLEMS to be solved e.g. ‘why choose mavis?’ sa the other pres indignantly. ‘We doubt her capacity to handle the most difficult house in the skool.’ Do they not kno they talk about mavis grabber? grabber ma is head of st custard’s and win the mrs joyful prize for rafia work. He could win a brownies kniting badge for the ushual amount.

  Anyway imagine wot life would be like at st custard’s if the weeds oiks tuoughs snekes and others behaved like they do in gurls books. Imagine conversashuns like this:

  “Rats, you crumpet,” sa gillibrand, the mad cap of 3B. ‘It’s joly rot to sa that molesworth cribbed in the botany exam.’

  ‘It’s simply swete of you to sa that, gilly dear,’ chime in peason. ‘I kno he was cobbed with 3 newts and a titmouse in his gym shirt, that he hav a guide to natural hist open on his desk, a snake curled round the leg of his chair, a pair of binoculars, and british birds tatoed on the palm of his hand – but there must be some explanation.’ (there is, enuff said.)

  The xpresion tense on his luvley face

  ‘And you realise this mean he won’t pla in the lax match aganst st Cissy’s on Wednesday? Oh bother i do think miss grimsdick is too bad.’

  He toss his tawny head and a hale of beetles fall out.

  molesworth flush as he enter the study. He know they hav been talking about him becos they wouldn’t hav been little gurlies unless they had been jabering.

  ‘Hullo, you clot-faced sewer rats,’ he sa, quietly, the xpresion tense on his luvley face, the lights in his hair shining and also the lights on his nose.

  ‘O, moley dear, you absolute juggins! Now miss grimsdick want to see you in her study.’ molesworth go chalk white benethe the dirt. . . . .

  Aktually my racecourse correspondent tell me that real life in gurls’ skools is not a bit like what (grammer) it is in the books.

  ‘Carrots’ Crumpshaw, the madcap of the fourth is swanking along to the musick room when a huge prefect bear down on her.

  ‘Crumpshaw! Why are you walking down the Milky Way, a pasage reserved for prefects? WAM. And you ar wearing lipstick. SOCKO. And you cut the coll. criket match. BIFFO. Blow yore nose. (ZOOSH). i shall tell the whole house to pinch you this evening. . . . .

  (‘Carrots’ Crumpshaw thinks: just becose miss peabody [gym] praised my knees bend she is jealous.)

  ‘How cynical you are, molesworth,’ sa fotherington-Tomas, at this juncture. ‘Gurls can be most interesting companions, as you will find when you gro older.’

  The only bonds in fact between boys and gurls is that the skools they go to are SIMPLY SHOKING.

  N.B. my racecourse correspondent tell me that there are some gurls skools like ro-hem, st. j-hem, heath-hem, wyk-hem, where all is luxury and you must bring yore own servant to tend after yore lightest wants. Imagine this at st. custard’s eh i mean to sa just imagine it.

  Dawn brakes a few dispirited birds sa Queek and go to slepe agane the skool dog growls in his slepe a master steel guiltily across the lawn. Another day is beginning at st. custard’s.

  Tap! a manservant enter with a glass of coca-cola.

  it is seven a.m., sir on a filthy morning and all is friteful.

  Snore.

  The curtains are drawn sir and your clothes are laid out.

  Yore marbles are laid out on the closet.

  Snore.

  The ice in the white jug hav been broken. Should you wish to clean your teeth or knees the appropriate brushes are at hand, the electric fire is switched on and before you lies the adventure of new day. One last word the penalties for being late for brekker are mediævil in their severity.

  SNO – in the middle, the matron burst in like an atommic Xplosion. Wakey-wakey she bellow, sho a leg rise and shine. Up you get rats it is only 20 below and there is nothing like a song before brekfast. . . . .

  Another dreme is shatered. Come to think of it, gurls hav to put up with boys. So their lot is hard too.

  How to be a Goody-Goody

  ARE YOU AN ERIC OR A NIGEL?

  A smug chart for sissies

  Get teacher to hang this on the klassroom wall

  Do not bolt your food, boys. Eric sits erect and chews his food at leisure becos the weed hav got up early.

  Now look at nigel, ugh!

  A FEW TIPS FROM THE COARSE

  A velvet silence (peotry) enclose the famous PINK dorm of st. custards. Beyond the curtaned window there is no sound except the tread of feet as boys break out down the fire escape and the plop-plop of darts as ye olde matronne sink another treble twenty into the board. Below a gang of mice attack the skool cheese with jelignite. . . . .

  Sudenly the stillness is broken by a low, musical whisper e.g.

  Wot is yore fancy for the 3.30 at Sponger’s park, tomow, molesworth?

  Instantly the whole dorm is awake. Aktualy it was never silent becos wot with SNORES GRUNTS AND GROANS it would be quieter when they are re-laying the surface of the 7 sisters road than here.

  The q. i hav been asked, however, catches my interest.

  Get out the port and ci
gars, i sa, and we will diskuss the form, i wate until the decanter is passed hem-hem it is pepsi-cola aktually and give my verdict.

  Bees Knees will be having a go. On breeding alone it should be cast-iron. i shall risk half a lb of wine gums on her.

  Ta-ran-ta-rah! yell molesworth 2, weedily. ‘Come on, lester pigot. come on, scobie breasly. Come on me yar boo to molesworth I he couldn’t hurt a flea.

  He jump up and down on the soft springs hem-hem of the skool bed until he bounce too high and strike his head on the ceiling cheers cheers.

  Which all go to show that apart from backing a county at criket, a foopball team or two, cris chataway, le rouge at the casino and mr grabber for the father’s race every boy ort to equip himself for life by knoing a bit about horse racing.

  All i kno about this subjekt is contaned in my grate work Snaffles, fetlocks, pasterns and girths – A CRITICAL EXAMINATION (Grabber 25/- or send a p.o. to the auther direct). This book go to the hart of the matter by considering something you canot hav a horse race without e.g. the HORSE, (see above)

  This is only one side of a horse

  This is only one side of a horse so it hav only two legs, one ear and one eye. However, most horses are aproximately the same on the other side and if they are not it is not safe to hav a fluter on them.

  Every horse is said to hav POINTS which is pritty dificult for any animal which is not a hedgehog or comon porcupine. In racing, however, there are only two POINTS about the horse which need concern the eager student – the ears and the tail. If the horse is going to try the ears should be so far back and the tail so far up that they almost meet. When it trot up to the post like that the backer can be sure it is trying, which is something with a horse. It is something with a boy, too, but no one can kno from his ears otherwise we mite get something like this in klass –

  MOLESWORTH I stare at a problem in algy scratching his hoary head.

  SIGISMUND THE MAD MATHS MASTER regard him anxiously through his racing glasses.

  SIGISMUND: there go the galant molesworth upon whom i hav put my shirt (heaven forbid). He is a cert for this algy problem. But wot is this? His ears do not twitch. He sweateth at the mere look of x+y. He screws his pen into his ear he is in a lather. Quick quick i must lay this off on peason who hav an answer book but it will be O.K. unless there is an objektion.

  (He rushes out. molesworth gets the answer from gilibrand and so foils the plot.)

  That is all about horses. Now the q. is how to put your money on. You do this with a bookie or the tote as even a fule kno. Wot every fule do not kno however is which horse to put the money on and bring back a dividend.

  To kno this you hav to study form e.g. buy all the papers which say:

  The Dope’s Nap-3.30. BEES KNEES.

  3.30. FATTY IS A CONFIDENT SELEKTION.

  COARSE WIRE. 3.30. BUMBLE PUPY.

  NEWMARKET. TOOTHBRUSH.*******

  This leave you pritty much where you were but it is better than buying a midday edition when all the tipsters agree:

  RACING SUMARY.

  3.30.

  PREPOSTEROUS (Daily Plug)

  DANDRUFF

  MENDAX (The Smugg)

  DANDRUFF****

  ON THE BALL (Daily Shame)

  DANDRUFF

  ALCESTES (Farmer’s Joy)

  DANDRUFF

  ect.

  Every horse is said to have POINTS

  Everything is right. DANDRUFF hav won over the distance, it hav two ancestors from the national stud, a french owner, trained on meat, sits up in its stable, lest…pig…up…firm going THE LOT. BASH ON THE WINE GUMS. As you are sitting nonchalantly in your club drinking a last pepsi cola you carelessly pick up the ticker tape.

  3.30. SPONGER’S PARK. I. BEES KNEES. 2. CLOT.

  3. MORBID. ALSO RAN – DANDRUFF. SKOOL CHEESE.

  5 RAN. DANDRUFF 51/1 ON (FAVRITE)

  ‘Hogsnorton.’

  ‘Yes. sir?’

  ‘Bring me another pepsi cola.’

  ‘The ’37, sir, or the Club?’

  ‘Wot do it matter? There is only 6d in it.’

  Let us stroll over to the padock where the horses are parading. All around is the clamour and bustle of the race-coarse full of gipsies, oafs, cads, snekes tipsters, bullies in fakt it mite just as well be a half-hol at st. custards. See who strolls among them it is ickle-pritty fotherington-Tomas the wonky wet of the skool!

  FOTHERINGTON-TOMAS: Hullo clouds hullo sky! How colourful the scene! the colours so gay so alive. But, woe, here is the headmaster GRIMES!

  HEADMASTER: Want to buy some jellied eels? Lovely jellied eels, (he starteth) Discovered! it is fotherington-tomas!

  FOTHERINGTON-TOMAS: Oh wot, sir, can hav brought you to this pass?

  GRIMES: the skool doesn’t pay all hard work nothing out of it. The boys hav got to be fed and as for the masters they fair eat you out of house and home, (fotherington-tomas begin to blub) And then look at the rates on the old place – and the taxes. Can’t blame me if i try to make an honest penny down here, there’s no disgrace –

  FOTHERINGTON-TOMAS (blubing harder than ever) don’t go on, sir. Take my money. Here.

  GRIMES: don’t you want no jellied eels?

  FOTHERINGTON-TOMAS: no, no.

  GRIMES: Bless you, sonny, you hav a kind face.

  As fotherington-Tomas skip away a thick wad of banknotes fall from GRIMES poket. He pick them up agane and begin to GLOAT!

  PLATE IX PICK THE WINNER – to face page p. 100076.

  GRIMES: there is one born every minit.

  And now we hav aktually got to the padock where the horses are walking round and round and people are looking at them. This is yore first chance to make sure yore selektion is in racing trim. Even at this stage it may be lathering and foaming at the mouth. If, however, its eyes are brite pinpoints, it is dancing lite-hartedly on its horseshoes and neighing to itself – it is safe to assume that the stable hav decided to hav a go.

  BASH ON MORE WINE GUMS and return, for the START.

  This is the most exciting moment and fotherington-Tomas jump up and down.

  ‘Hurrah hurrah how good it is to be alive and the horse is the frend of man!’

  At this moment a beer both fall on his head from the roof of a motor coach and he is borne away. Cheers cheers we can watch the race in peace. THEY’RE OFF! Everyone go mad men shout, gurls fante, molesworth 2 shout ta-ran-ta-ra. Everyone shout and point at each other, IT’S BEES KNEES. DANDRUFF A STREET. FATTY WALKS IT ECT. The race only last ten sees before it is over. And wot hav hapened to the chokolate hoops, raspbery hoops and suede gloves of yore fancy? Alas, it is almost always down the COARSE.

  Boys, keep away from race coarses. Wot is the fun of them. They are crooked and you do not stand a chance. Open the paper and see how grave the world situation is. Look at the H-bombs and disasters and find how you can give yore services to the cause. Open the paper i sa – and wot is the first thing that catch yore eye?

  4.00. COARSE WIRE. NANKIE-POO CAN’T MISS.

  BASH ON THE WINE GUMS!!!!!!!!!

  THE MOLESWORTH MASTER METER

  Chiz moan drone they are everywhere. Masters i mean. Beaks. Thin ones fat ones little ones tall ones some with cranky cars others with posh ties, some you can rag and others who strike mortal fear into our tiny harts it is cruelty to expose us to such monsters. Everywhere a boy goes at skool there is liable to be a master chiz chiz seeking you out with his fierce burning eyes. It was becos of the pressing need hem-hem for some such instrument that the molesworth Cave-Counter or master meter (patent pending) was invented. See below.

  prof molesworth and his batty assistant peason had the geiger counter in mind in creating their famous master meter. The principle is the same. When a master is in the offing dreaming of BEER and LUV the meter throb and the needle come up to the CAVE position on the dial. Increasing danger makes the needle creep up until it reach the maximum spot ie. when a master rush you with a kane held in his hary hand and his eye
s bulging with fury the needle show BOOST and the whole gadget zoom up and down like a skool blancmange. That is the time to scram quickly leaving a heavy pall of cig smoke hem-hem behind, safe and sound with trousis still full of dust thanks to yore Cave-counter. In fakt in generations to come the name of molesworth will be venerrated among skoolboys as we are suposed to venerrate the chap who discovered chloroform and other pane savers.

  But enuff. Charge ta-ranta-rah for the masters comon room. Leave yore Cave-counter behind or it will go mad at so many masters, such a pong poo-gosh of pipes and cig ends you would almost think they all go around picking up ours.

  Any boy kno wot a masters comon room is like. It smell of beetles and the ceiling is suported by ex. books. It is a place where you take yore lines, impots and corections

  e.g.

  A stitch in time saves nine

  A Stich in save tim

  A ssave is nine

  A stitch in time sav

  A stich in tim save

  on the table. The master look up from the chair at the fruits of yore toil and sa languidly All right molesworth you can go away now. Then he go to slepe agane while below the slaves are toiling in the salt mines.

  Here then the masters gather in their gowns and discuss the problems of their existence i.e. the brave noble and fearless boys whom they persecute. When the HEADMASTER is around this is how it goes.

  you kno HEADMASTER that thanks to the brilliance of my tuition, the care i hav lavished, the hours i hav spent molesworth hav improved in lat out of all knoledge.

  HEADMASTER (thinks) Wot is all this leading up to? i must go carefully.