‘Wot is on the t.v. we hav nothing to do,’ we sa.
‘Nothing,’ sa the parot, ‘the programmes are lousy’ he is browned oft becos since we hav a t.v. he hav not been able to get a word in edgeways.
Mum seme to hav run out of conversation.
‘Tell us about skool,’ she sa, at last.
‘Skool? The masters are all teddy boys and would slit you with a broken botle for 2 pins. The food is uneatable and conditions are vile.’
‘You poor darlings!’
‘It is horible,’ blub molesworth 2.
‘My poor little lambs ect’ hem-hem rather embarassing mum look as if she will burst into tears, good old mum. All mums are the same and luv there wee ones somebody hav got to, after all. I send her for my mail and litely thumb over the leters i.e. 16 football pools, I bill from the bookmaker, a badge from the golly club, an invitation to a dance chiz and HO! wot is this, eh?
Caption: SKOOL! DISMISS! With one mad yell the mob surge away down the passage
Dere frend,
Welcome! in sending for details of the Goliath, the Strong Man course you are opening a new life. If you are a pigmy i can make a giant of you with bulging mussles and HERCULEAN strength in 6 weeks. Write at once with P.O. for 2/6.
(signed) G. Goliath.
Gosh! This is something! A new future open up by the time we return to skool i can hav giant strength. How wizard that will be next term.
Scene: big skool at st. custard’s. Goliath molesworth is unpacking his tuck box.
PEASON: Hullo, o weedy wet, you hav a face like a squished tomato.
MOLESWORTH: (thinks) Poorfule, he do not kno
(enter sigismund the mad maths master)
SIGISMUND: Come on get cracking no talking no smoking, no entrance you are in my clutches agane.
(He striketh peason.)
MOLESWORTH: Stop! Enuff!
(sigismund aim a wicked blow with the protractors. molesworth catch them, bust them, brake an iron bar with his teeth, lift a statue of j. caesar, leap 82 feet, beat his chest, crunch a skool cake, do 2 back somersaults and aim a rabit punch at sigismund?)
MOLESWORTH: Take that.
SIGISMUND: Wow!
MOLESWORTH: And that and that and that and that –
SIGISMUND: Do not repeat yoreself.
(M. toss him over his shoulder and the bout is over. Sigismund is down for the count the crowd roars?)
At this point the dreme is interrupted.
‘Would you like another cake, nigel?’
‘No, thanks, mum. I hav some correspondence.’
‘To whom are you writing?’
‘Just to the golly club, mum. Just to the golly club.’
i write to the golly club thanking them for their good wishes. Also to Goliath for the strong man course. We shall see.
And so the hols proceed. I quarrel with molesworth 2 and he do not seme to see my point of view. Let him wate. Ocasionally there are treats e.g. gran come to see us in her 90 m.p.h. sports car and zoom about the roads which is more dangerous than the skool bus. Boys come in to pla and depart in tears. The parot see sooty on the t.v. and sa a rude word. He want to get an audition and kepe saing “Cock-a-doodle-doo” and swank he is a cock he will not get to first base. Then come the FELL DAY i.e.
dere nigel andmolesworth 2
GLORIA AND HYACINTH
AT HOME
dancing 8 – 10.30. Cakes, creme buns, trifle, jelly, chocs, crackers, whisky for paters and gin for maters. Do not miss this unique ocasion.
A snip!!!!!
CURSES! me dancing with gurlies? gosh, i ring the bell for mater and issue stern protest but in vane. It will be good for me to go, she sa. Also gloria and hyacinth are such nice little gurls and i must learn to dance early before it is too late chiz chiz chiz.
Another weedy party and lots of weedy little gurls with pig tales and also some joly big ones. a nice lady come up with a knuckle duster and ask me to dance with tough baby called honoria. Cornered, i bow, take gurl by my gloved hand and draw her litely on the floor. After a few turns she speke shyly:
‘This is a waltz, you big lout. You hav kicked me 5 times.’
‘And, fare made, i will kick thee agane.’
‘Sez you? I will do you if you do.’
‘I shall do thee first, see if i do not.’
And so to the lite strains the young couples in the first flush of their youth whirl round and round to the strains of the craked gramophone. Wot young hopes and ideals are confined in these innocent breasts, wot – SPLOSH! Wot can that be? It is hyacinth who hav thrown a jelly at gloria she hav been sipping mater’s gin. Gloria respond with the trifle cheers cheers cheers. ‘Go it, Gloria,’ shout honoria, ‘tear out her hare’ and molesworth 2 zoom by dive bombing with eclares. A wizard confusion ranes.
‘Did you enjoy the party, nigel?’ sa mum when we get home.
‘Oh yes,’ i reply, tired but hapy. ‘Altho next time you mite send us to the moulin rouge or an apache’s dance hall.’
The weeks and days pass on winged feet. Soon we shall hav to think of getting our things together for the new term. Ah-me! All those pants and vests and shirts got out for another tour of duty. The happy relationship between me and molesworth 2 hav broken up in cries of ‘Shall’, ‘Shan’t’. ‘You are.’ ‘You aren’t’ ect.
‘Wot did you sa about the masters at yore skool, nigel?’ ask mum. ‘The ones who are teddy boys?’
‘They would rip you with a botle for 2 pins, mater.’
‘So would I,’ she sa. ‘So would i.’
As for Goliath i never hear from him agane. The golly club thank me for my contribution to party funds. They hav made me a golly Captain now. i must hav put the P.O. in the wrong envelope. I would rather be Goliath than a Golly Captain any day but that is life.
HEE-HEE FOR TEE-VEE
Gosh super! we hav something to contend with which no other generation hav ever had before i.e. the television cheers cheers cheers. Everbody kno wot a t.v. is it is a square box with a screen. You switch on and o hapen, then just when you hav given up hope and are going off to buzz conkers a great booming voice sa, ‘That’s an interesting point, postlethwaite. Wot does higginbottom feel? Higgin-bottom? ect ect.’ It may be an interesting point but i could not care less and just go away agane when a ghastley face suddenly appere. It is worse than a squished tomato but it hold me in hypnotic trance and it is the same with molesworth 2, tho he always look dopey like that. We sit and watch more and more ghastley faces with our mouths open and even forget to chew the buble gum we are slaves of the machine.
Of course all boys and gurls hav to go through a time when there is no t.v. xcept at the postman’s down the road. Yore mater and pater then sa weedy things.
i will not hav one in the house.
the programmes are simply terible, my dear.
it is bad for children.
it destroy the simple pursuits of leisure.
Hem-hem if they only knew what the simple pursuits of leisure were like potting stones at vilage oiks or teaching parot rude words they would not hesitate for a moment. Anyway they get one in the end and sa ‘Children can only look for 1 hour at suitable programmes’ then they forget all about it until we are halfway through ‘1984’ and molesworth 2 sa ‘if that is the best a rat can do i do not think much of it.’ ‘The rat,’ i sa, ‘is exactly like thou, o clot-faced wet.’ Then mater become aware of our presence and hury the dreamy-eyed little felows up wood hill to blanket fair, as dear nana sa.
A ghastley face suddenly appere
When you setle down to it this is wot hapens in your dulce domum (lat.)
Scene: A darkened room with glowing fire. Mum, Nana, me and molesworth 2 are goggling at the screen. So are the cats, dogs, rats, mice and various bugs about the place.
T.V. Are you a clump-press minder? (Grate cheers)
MATER: I thort he was an aero-dynamicist or a moulding-clamp turner……I really think… …
ALL: Sshh!<
br />
(Enter pater, tired from the office.)
PATER: Are you looking at that friteful thing agane? Programmes are terible. Nothing to look at.
(With a roar and a ratle he put coal on the fire).
ALL: Sshh!
(Pater setle down, molesworth 2 aim his gat at very fat gentleman in specs. It is the same gun with which he shot mufin the mule, mcdonald hobley, a ping-pong champion, three midgets, a great-crested grebe, a persian student and lady Boyle and a budgerigar.)
MOLESWORTH 2. Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah. Got you.
ALL: Ssh!
MATER: Do you not think it would be better if their heads were not three feet away from their shoulders?
(Pater go and twiddle knobs. First of all there is a snowstorm then what seem like the batle of Jutland, then an electronic bombardment. Finaly a vast explosion.)
MATER: YOU hav ruined it, clot.
NANA: Boost the contrast.
MOLESWORTH 2: Adjust the definition.
ME: O gosh, hurry up.
(Now picture is upside down, then leaning drunkenly, then it disappear altogether amid boos and catcalls. Finaly Nana do it.)
T.V. Are you conected with seaweed? (Huge cheer)
MATER: look at tibby the cat he canot stand gilbert harding..…
ALL: Sssh.
PATER: He’s a guggle-gouger..…
(And so it go on. Supper is not cooked, fires go out, kettles boil their heads off, slates fall off the roof and house burn down, but we are all still looking at a nature film in w. africa chiz in fact we hav seen more monkeys since we got the t.v. than ever before xcept at st. custard’s where peason hav the face of a wild baboon.)
He is going to zoom to the piano and pla fairy bells
Aktually t.v. is v. cultural for boys and improving to the mind. You learn so many things that when you go back to skool all are quite surprised.
MOLESWORTH 1: To the q. whether the hydrogen bomb should be banned i give a categorical ‘no’, unless there can be international agreement to co-exist in disarmament.
MOLESWORTH 2: That is a valid point, o weedy wet. Do you kno the population of chile?
MOLESWORTH 1: No. But everyone should look both ways before crossing the road and wot can be more dramatic than man’s fight against the locust, eh?
MOLESWORTH 2: The problem of asia is the problem of over-population and now i will pla brahams etude number 765000 in F flat..…
You kno wot this mean he is going to zoom to the piano and pla fairy bells nothing can stop him the whole skool will rock and plaster drop from the ceiling, chandeliers will shake and light bulbs burst. Hav to take cover until it is all over when the head of an elk, dislodged by the blast, fall on my head chiz chiz chiz that is life.
So you will see that t.v. is a joly good thing and very restful to the nerves, my dear. You can talk about it next day, particularly to those who hav no sets and hav not seen the programmes. This make you very popular socially, with the smart set of 3B, and take your mind off the lessons. It also gives rise to several wizard wheezes. For instance, why not start a maths lesson with a ghastley face smiling at you?
‘And now, 3B, we are going to show you the elementary principles of vulgar fractions so we hope simper simper you will be able simper to get the things into yore thick heads without carving the desk or sticking compasses into fotherington-Tomas. Simper. May we also remind you that there is cocoa and buns at break and from 10.30 to 11.15 there is a gorgeous lesson in which Cotta will be beaten for the umpteenth time by the Belgians with darts and arows?”
With a huge SIMPER the picture fade. Which only leave time to prepare placard for the final wizard wheeze.
molesworth, next sentence. Marcus and Balbus, my dearest friends, are walking out of the city. Come along, boy.
You do not need to sa er-er and scratch yore head or even ask what the blazes the two cissies are doing walking out of the city for. You just hoist your placard for a technical hitch:
A NEW DEAL FOR THE TINIES
Hist! Cave! methinks the bold bad molesworth 1 have wind that there are tinies around the place. you kno wot tinies are – they are ickle pritty little boys who wear blue corduroy trousis and zoom about on fairy cycles. They hav not come to st custard’s yet they do not kno their fate. They hav mistresses at skool and dance weedily with ickle gurls chiz chiz chiz e.g.
Now david, now bobby, now cyril stand round me in a fairy ring and join hands with drusilla we will pretend we are all going to fairyland.
At this all the tinies becom xcited and jump up and down. Goody goody hurray and hip hip they cri shall we see a fairy godmother?
‘But,’ sa fotherington-Tomas, when i express these things to him, ‘we must hav the younger tinies to folow in our footsteps. After all,’ he sa, ‘you were a tiny once yourself.’
‘Me? Curses!’
‘With corduroy trousis and your mother wept when she cut off your curls. You looked just like bubbles, molesworth 1, and the old ladies said how swete you were.’
With that he skip weedily away singing tra-la-tra-la but i feel there is a grane of truth in wot he sa. Gosh chiz, i dare not think of it. Me in corduroy trousis! 1oooooooooo boos to bubbles.
Aktually all boys hav to hav a time when they are not tuough and canot even read. There was even a time when i had no culture myself hem-hem which was when my pater and mater thort i was a brane and would win a skolarship. Not much hope of making me a slave to pay the fees nowadays. But there was a time once when –
(Scene) the molesworth nursery young nigel molesworth is sitting on the floor braking a hornby trane with a hamer. The place is litered with debris of wheels nuts bolts dinky toys tanks and clockwork mice it is as if there hav been an H-bomb xplosion.
There was even a time when i had no culture myself
NURSE: come nigel dere it is time for your reading lesson.
NIGEL: Boo-hoo-boo-hoo-hoo.
NURSE: If you are wilful i will smak yore little hand.
NIGEL: And i will thro the hamer at you. If you want to get tuough, you can hav it tuough dere nana.
(With a quick judo thro nana come up from behind and disposess the game little chap of his weapon. He sits upon her ample knee with an open book.)
It is a funy thing about reading when you are a tiny they make you sa Ah-Eh-Ih-Ou-URR etc. which is uterly wet and read about weedy dogs e.g.
There is a dog. Jack is a…Jack is a…Jack is a…is a bitch. No, not that, nigel, do not guess. Read the word. Wot does DER-OU-GER spell? Jack is a dog he is a bad dog jack steals the bone… (zoom zoom along you can remember it all). Cook is angry. Cook is a cow. Well, that is what dere Dada…Cook is a lady. She whacks jack with the LUR-AH-DUR-LUR-ER. Wot the blades can that be? She whacks jack with the hamer…with the gun…with the cosh … with the rolling pin…etc. etc. And so it go on until nana fall into a stupor and it is time for the archer family on the wireless.
Everything is difficult for tinies they hav to write too. But first they pla with plastissene and make drawings in crayons which is like glorious tecknicolour hem-hem i don’t think. When they write it is like this they copy things why dus the owl owl wodpek on the nos. Or, hokey-de-poke de zoopity zing you are under my spel and dus everything i tell.
wot speling eh?
Soon however the tinies can use their new found skill and scrible on their books rude things about lambs, roy the rat, tortoises, geese which they hav to read about e.g. ded he is ded i shot him he is ded yes. This show promise for the future and a brite career at st custards.
Another thing tinies kno o about is games such as foopball or criket. When they first see a foopball they are amazed. ‘What do we do with it?’ they ask the mistress. ‘You slam the leather right-footed into the reticule, little dears,’ she repli. So they put the ball down and retire to the end of the field then zoom up for huge shot. Ball go two inches and tiny fall on his nose. ‘Ha-ha-ha,’ sa mistress, ‘that will teach you, rat. Now it is cedric’s turn.’
It is the s
ame with criket, which the tinies ushually learn with their pater on the lawn.
pater: Set up the stumps, boys.
Do you not want to be grown-up?
tiny: i were playing with my balloon.
pater: All grown-up men pla criket. Do you not want to be grown-up?”
tiny: not when i see some grown-up men, Dada.
But pater is inexorable. He grasps the bat. First tiny bowls the ball backwards over his head, then into the greenhouse, then along the ground and finaly the dog run away with it. When the pill is recovered tiny bowl pater with a wizard daisy-cutter. Pater then bowl and hit tiny’s stumps. ‘You’re out!’ he yells. Tiny throw the bat at him and walk off into the house. The game is over.
So you see. Even the Hugest hav been tinies once. And even when they are huge and hairy as me their maters sometimes sa: “Did I show you that sweet photo of nigel when he was a baby?” And there you are looking weedy on a rug. But it’s all right as long as none of the other boys don’t see. You take another look. You weren’t a bad looking tiny at all quite d. in that peticoat – curses wot am i saing?
Dere Little Chaps
Will you take me for a bike ride, dad?
Parkins shows a good deal of promise.
nigel is a slo developer.
You hav caught me, sir, like a treen in a disabled space ship.
i shouldn’t do that if i were you, old chap.
SUMER BY THE SEA
Hurra for the hols agane cheers cheers cheers. Boo and snubs to all skools and masters which are closed for repairs and renovation during august. (‘i think we’ll have big skool done a pale dove grey with petunia lame curtains,’ sa headmaster’s wife hem-hem i do not think. Big skool will be lucky if it get a rinse with the carbolic.)
Whizz for Atomms Page 5