Whizz for Atomms

by Ronald Searle

  Caption: ‘Yep, stranger, and he’s plenty light on the trigger too’

  ‘Yep, stranger, and he’s plenty light on the trigger too,’ sa mapplebeck the new bug. ‘Git and skit while the going’s good.’

  grabber fante dead away at such neck. When he come to he find himself by molesworth 2’s wigwam where a huge pot of radio malt is slowly cooking at the fire. Beyond it a delicious meal of dried braces and stewed prunes.

  ‘Who are you?’ gasp grabber.

  ‘How,’ come the chorus.

  ‘How indeed can an apparition so friteful with a blue nose and a smelly old blanket hav come to pass? Wot is it?’

  ‘How.’

  ‘This will drive you crazy, pard,’ i sa. ‘Join our merry game we are having a supersonic time..…”

  5 mins 6 secs. later

  ‘Cave, chaps! Here comes the head. You’ve woken him up from his hog-snoring.’

  Headmaster it is indeed with the skool coyote scampering at his heels and barking. Headmaster is in good bate and chat with the matron about gillibrand’s vests hem-hem so he is glad to change the subject when the new bug with specs jump out at him.

  ‘Stick ’em up,’ he sa. ‘Pronto. And that goes for your squaw too.’

  ‘A game of cowboys,’ sa the headmaster. ‘An excellent game to develop quick thinking. I trust however that when the hero turns to the right the posse do not galop past? You see it is obviously quite simple – ’

  ‘Sir sir sir pla with us sir. Sir pla with us..…’

  20000 years later

  As i said before, the human race hav progressed so much that they hav only tiny legs and the rest of it look like an egg. they hav so many branes. It is afternoon at the Institute Custardhuss. Sudenly a shout rends the air: ‘Tha he goes git after him.’ One egg is hotly pursued by sixteen other eggs..…the first egg pulls up a sidetrack to the right and the other eggs go thundering by..…

  There is a lesson in this and wot it is i am sure molesworth 2 can tell us. He ponder for several hours and at last give his verdict.

  ‘How.’

  MORE CULTURE AND A CLEANER BRANE

  Now it can be told. The story of our pioneer inventors early struggles..…

  ‘I think, peason,’ sa prof. molesworth, gravely. ‘That we may now conect the cyclotron to the reactor. We shall then be ready for the plutonium –”

  ‘You mean???????’

  ‘i do not kno wot i mean, o measly weed. But if all do not go well, i would not give 2d for st. custards chances in the local skools charity league next season.’

  Above them tower the huge atommic PILE which they hav constructed in the MUSICK room. There are 10 bombs – a litle one which trigger off a bigger one, which trigger off the next one until you get to the last which is super coolossal.

  ‘Well?’ sa prof. molesworth. ‘You seme thortful?’

  ‘It is just that it appere to be going to a lot of trubble just to heat the gym.’

  CAVE! CAVE MOLESWORTH CAVE!

  The warning cry come just in time. HEADMASTER GRIMES puts his hoary head round the door. He beam at the two keen little chaps who are now sitting together at ye olde skool piano plaing a super duet.

  ‘Bravo,’ he yell above the din. ‘Keep it going, hep-cats, get in the groove. If that is the Flite of the bumble BEE it must be the biggest bee in the world, in space. It sound more like a comet IV at full boost. It is louder than when molesworth 2 pla Fairy Bells.

  ‘There are 2 of us at it,’ shout prof, molesworth. ‘Why not join us, sir, on drums?’

  ‘No, no. Can you lend me a tanner till tuesday?’

  GRIMES catch the coin in his mortar board with the skill of long practice and withdraw. Out in the passage he rub his hands. ‘Peason and molesworth are at last settling down to a sense of responsibility,’ he sa. ‘st. custard’s will hav cause to remember them.’

  He pick up his banjo and move to the next pitch outside 3B where he strum swannee river with one hand and ratle the bones with the other. Molesworth and peason return to the ‘Young Students Chemistry Set’ which gran hav given molesworth for Xmas..…

  ‘Wot are you doing, molesworth, go on tell me o you mite.’

  It is fotherington-tomas who intrude this time skipping weedily he is utterly wet. And is he to be trusted? Hav he been cleared for security, eh?

  ‘It is the Peason-molesworth Atommic Pile fitted with radio and plug for electric razor.’

  ‘Goody goody,’ sa fotherington-Tomas. ‘Will it cost a grate deal to get a shave?’

  ‘About three trillion pounds.’

  ‘A new era for the world,’ sa fotherington-Tomas. Then he begin to blub. ‘Science is not everything. There is culture as well.’

  ‘Come agane?’

  ‘In a mechanised age the things of the spirit are more important than ever. Consider shapespeare, c. dickens, c. kingsley, sir w. scott and others. And wot of christopfer robin, eh?’

  His words set up a chain reaction and the skool piano and chemistry set blow up. Only the Peason-Molesworth Atommic Pile seme unaffected tho we use the metronome as a geiger counter..…

  That was how it began. That nite in the Pink Dorm i hav DOUBTS. It is the same old q. for a scientist. Should he make his knoledge avalable to everyone? It do not mater one jot in my case becos with my knoledge they would all still be where they were before. And wot about all these books which we hav in eng.? Wot of all those q’s in the exams e.g.

  Should he make his knoledge avalable to everyone?

  Sa wot you kno of silas marner, queeg, jack the ripper, perseus and mrs do-as-you-would-be-don-by. Writing and neatness will be taken into consideration.

  Answer:

  A grate thort strike me:

  ALL BOOKS WHICH BOYS HAV TO READ ARE WRONG

  How dare you, molesworth. You are idle, inattentive, slovenly, stupid, irascible, hopeless and hav o branes. Also you hav drawn beetles all over m. dubois in the fr. book and hav given armand a moustache.

  How dare you?

  i can see wot will be the answer to my grate thort but i hav my defence.

  Take the first book in my little selection this week e.g. O. Twist featuring in the old Curiosity Shoppe introducing douglas fairbanks jr. as fagin. Book and lyrics by grabber I. From an idea by c. dickens.

  You remember how it go? Where is my book bag? Ah, here it is. O. Twist feel that he hav not had enuff skool sossages ect. and ask Mr bumble the beedle for more i.e. he make the message quite clear and sa Please, sir, can i hav some more. Mr bumble is so surprised anyone could want any more he fall into a rage and O. twist get his chips. Now wot would hapen toda?

  TWIST: Another sossage, fatty.

  BEEDLE: Eh, wot. You hav had yore allocation as presribed in the skool leaving act A/cD/IoL.

  TWIST: Come on come on. This is the welfare state. Give us a couple also some free milk and orange juice, a corset, some false teeth, old age pension, forecast for the pools, 20 peoms by w. auden, six beetles, a pencil sharpner and anything else you hav in yore poket.

  BEEDLE: No, no.

  TWIST: Garn, or we’ll rip yer.

  It is the same with many a well-known charakter. Another is that well-known weed christopfer robin who luv poo bear ect. and watch the changing of the gard at buck house with alace, alice, avise alias Mopp the Mess.

  ALICE: They are changing the gard at buckinham palace.

  C. ROBIN: So wot so wot?

  ALICE: YOU had better be there. You have yore publick. You hav made the whole place impossible for the q, also the de of e and prince charles.

  C. ROBIN: i am getting past it i am slipping.

  ALICE: You talk as if you hav to march from Wellington baracks every day. And carrying a trombone. Where are yore call-up papers?

  Another wet in my book bag is jules verne. He said there would be submarines he is brilliant. Also the flying machine e.g. around the world in 80 days (delay at gander even b.o.a.c. must start to be thinking they mite catch up) jules verne, in fakt, was
responsible for SCIENCE Fiktion, also h. g. wells who wrote The First Clots in the Moon.

  You remember how it went? Or not?

  FOTHERINGTON-TOMAS: Hullo clouds hullo sky. Let’s all go to the moon. Hurray hurray. Prof. cavour hav the answer i.e. the Peason-Molesworth Space Ship (patents pending).

  ZOOSH!

  The scene switch to the MOON. 20 mushrooms are on watch. They watch the skies. They also watch each other wondering which will be fried with the bacon and skool sossages tomorow. Sudenly a BALL arive. The mushrooms jump up and down.

  ‘Go on, Stanley, net the leather. Get yore head to it. Foul! Send him oft. Shoot! Buy more players. Who’s for tennis?’ SUDENLY there is a hush.

  1ST MUSHROOM: Anything the matter?

  2ND MUSHROOM: It’s THEM. From THERE.

  1ST MUSHROOM: Cripes. Where’s THERE?

  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! ZOOOO..…!

  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 I. 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 cigars, 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 1 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)