How to Train Your Parents

by Pete Johnson

  ‘Hardly anything.’

  ‘And it’s only a background part, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right. In fact, the main thing you’ll do is sign forms.’

  ‘I think I can do that,’ she replied gravely. ‘But I’ll need to get some clothes to disguise myself. So I’m off to the charity shop tomorrow.’ Then she added, ‘Don’t worry Louis, I won’t let you down.’

  TUESDAY MAY 14TH

  Running-away equipment

  1) Toothbrush

  2) Shirt and jeans

  3) Seven pairs of underpants

  4) Dad’s pongy aftershave

  5) Knife, fork, cup and plate

  6) Tin of baked beans

  7) Chocolate

  8) Book: Very Good, Jeeves

  9) Hair gel

  10) One dinosaur (just for old time’s sake)

  11) And if space permits, socks. But I look on socks as sort of optional, really.

  I’ve been smuggling all these things up to my bedroom and storing them in the bottom of my wardrobe. I do realize that running away is quite an extreme measure and wonder if I should give my parents one last chance. Still not sure about this.

  9.00 p.m.

  Just been called downstairs. Dad said he knows I’m very worried about something and he and Mum want to help. This sounded promising but then, would you believe, he started droning on about my school work! Why does everything in my life have to be about school? We never talk about anything else these days.

  Then he announced that they’ve arranged for a private tutor to come here on Friday. His name is Mr Walrus (that’s what I thought they said, but it can’t be right and who cares anyway as I won’t be here) and he will be taking me for English and maths. Dad started grinning inanely at me, as if he’d just told me he’d bought me a puppy.

  ‘How do you feel about that?’ asked Mum eagerly. And blow me down, she was smiling away at me too. They obviously thought I’d be delirious with joy at the news that I’m getting a tutor. I tell you, my parents’ sanity is hanging by a thread at the moment. Anyway, I just shrugged my shoulders, looked glum and popped into the conversation another of Maddy’s killer phrases: ‘I’m sorry you feel you have to resort to that.’

  It didn’t let me down. The sickly smiles vanished instantly and my dad said, ‘All right, off you go,’ without even looking at me. As I was going up the stairs I heard Mum say, ‘There’s just no pleasing him these days.’ Communications between my parents and myself have slumped to an all-time low.

  Tried to cheer myself up by reading some jokes, but even that didn’t work, so I called Maddy instead. She’s been to the charity shop and got all togged up for Thursday (she won’t tell me what she’s bought, said she wants it to be a surprise). She’s also raided her savings account: taken seventy-five pounds out of it. That’s to pay for the train fare to my old home and any other expenses my running away might incur.

  I told her to write me out an IOU. But she said she didn’t work like that and she knew I wouldn’t forget her when I become a comedy star.

  And I swear on my life I won’t.

  WEDNESDAY MAY 15TH

  5.00 p.m.

  On the way into school today Theo jumped out of the bushes at me. ‘Louis, tell me one of your stupid jokes, will you?’ he said. Well, I’m not at my fizziest this early in the morning. But I’m also a semi-professional now, so I rattled off about half a dozen jokes. And Theo was a very good audience, actually.

  Then he suddenly stuck out his hand and said, ‘Best of luck in everything you do, Louis.’ Gave me quite a turn actually. It was as if he knew I was running away tomorrow. But how could he know? That’s a secret shared only by Maddy and me.

  There was no time to ask him anything else as Mrs Archer appeared on the horizon, so he moved off pretty nippily. And I didn’t get a chance to converse with him again.

  Rest of the day crawled past at two miles an hour. But as I walked out of the gates this afternoon I had this really strong feeling that this school will never, ever darken my life again.

  9.30 p.m.

  All my running-away equipment is stored away in my bedroom now. After I’ve written this I shall transfer them, and you, dear diary, to my school bag, whilst bunging all my school books away. Well, I shan’t be needing them again, shall I?

  I am leaving my parents a note just so they know I haven’t been kidnapped or anything. It says:

  Dear Mum and Dad,

  Hope you are keeping well. This is to let you know that I’m off to start my career now. Thanks for all the meals and for looking after me.

  Good luck in the future and I will definitely see you again, one day. Until then, keep smiling.

  From your loving son,

  Louis

  PS I know I’m vacating my bedroom but I’d be grateful if you still kept Elliot out of it. Cheers.

  Running Away to Fame and Fortune

  THURSDAY MAY 16TH

  10.15 a.m.

  Left home just after eight o’clock this morning.

  Dad had already gone to work and Mum was busy searching for Elliot’s maths book. As she probably wouldn’t see me for a long time I thought I’d better say a proper goodbye to her.

  ‘I’m off then, Mum,’ I said. ‘Thanks a lot for looking after me for the past twelve years.’

  She whirled round. ‘Are you all right, Louis?’

  ‘Me, yeah, I’m blooming. See you then, Mum. Take good care of yourself, won’t you?’

  And after that I was out of the door. Gone – probably for years. So, a moment of incredible significance. But, to tell the truth, I didn’t feel as excited as I’d expected. Instead, I just felt a bit flat and . . . well, that’s all, really.

  Cheered up at the railway station, though. Maddy was waiting for me holding her school bag and a carrier bag from Help the Aged. She was also, to my great surprise, still in her school uniform. She said she’d rather wait until we got into London to get changed. I think she was just incredibly nervous about the whole thing. And who could blame her?

  On the train I spouted my act aloud to Maddy. It was mainly about my parents, but with a splash of Wormold and Spitty too.

  ‘Your jokes were funny,’ said Maddy, ‘but this is much better. Now you’ve got something to say about life, haven’t you?’

  I nodded proudly. ‘Yes I have, though don’t ask me what!’

  When we pulled into King’s Cross I said to Maddy, ‘Are you going to get changed now?’

  She gulped, said, ‘It’s time, isn’t it?’ and sprinted off to the ladies.

  She was gone for ages. But at last this apparition came tottering towards me in high heels. I’ll never forget it. She was wearing massive blue glasses, long dangly earrings and a grey suit. But it was her huge, curly, red wig which really caught my attention. She looked as if she had a ginger tomcat perched on her head. She didn’t look especially old or young, just very, very weird.

  ‘What do you think, then?’ she asked, smiling shyly at me.

  ‘Well, they’ll certainly remember you,’ I replied. At that point her wig took a spot of exercise, jumping down onto her forehead.

  ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I think you should go on instead of me. You’re much funnier.’

  Maddy sped off to the ladies again to adjust her wig. When she returned she said, ‘It should be all right now, provided I don’t walk too fast or shake my head about.’ She went on, ‘I look a right sight, don’t I?’

  ‘No . . . well yes, you do, actually. But I bet a lot of those show business parents appear odd too. So you’ll blend in just fine with them.’

  I think my little speech cheered Maddy up.

  12 noon

  Reached the Robson Theatre dead early, so we stood outside for a bit. Then Maddy let out this strange, retching noise.

  ‘Are you going to be—?’

  ‘Don’t even say the word,’ hissed Maddy, her face red enough to fry eggs on, ‘because if you say it, I’ll do it.’ Then she got some car ke
ys and started rolling them about in her hand. ‘They’re my mother’s spare keys,’ she whispered. ‘I thought if I held them it might help me get into the part.’

  There was no queue this time and we walked straight into the reception. The bored-looking boy was there again. He gave Maddy a long, hard stare.

  ‘Hello,’ said Maddy. ‘I’m Mrs . . .’ And there was this awful, agonizing silence as she struggled to remember my surname. In the end, I had to prompt her. The boy gave Maddy another long stare, then gazed down at a clipboard, handed me a sticker with my name and the number twelve on it and directed us towards the waiting room.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Louis. My mind just went blank . . .’

  ‘No worries, Mum,’ I replied. ‘Just a bit of nerves, that’s all. Everyone gets them.’

  At that moment I spotted Josie coming out of the waiting room. I warned Maddy, who started whispering, ‘Focus and concentrate,’ to herself and clenched those car keys really tightly.

  Josie gaped a bit when she first saw my dodgy-looking ‘Mum’. But as soon as Maddy started talking Josie seemed to relax. Maddy’s voice might have been a tiny bit quiet but it was twenty-four-carat adult. No doubt about it.

  Josie showed us into the waiting room. Although we were twenty minutes early it was packed already. In the middle was this girl in a cowboy hat and a burgundy leather jacket, loudly declaring, ‘Music is my whole life, you know.’

  ‘Let’s get right away from that,’ whispered Maddy.

  Then Serena the Sorcerer burst in, accompanied once again by her grandad and mum. She rushed over to me. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you again,’ she cried, and even gave me a little hug. I noticed Maddy bristling a bit. Then Serena started eyeballing Maddy.

  ‘Is that your mum?’ she whispered to me.

  ‘In the flesh.’

  ‘She doesn’t look at all how I imagined her.’

  ‘Funny, a lot of people say that,’ I replied.

  Next Maddy was introduced to Serena’s mum and grandad. And she had the adult patter off perfectly, gushing things like, ‘You must both be very proud of Serena.’

  What’s more, Maddy was walking about like a mum too. She didn’t overdo it either, got it dead right. I was mighty proud of her, actually.

  Then we were all herded into the Ashcroft Room again, Maddy sitting at the back with the grown-ups. The same three judges as before faced us. ‘I see the firing squad are back,’ I whispered to Serena.

  She giggled. ‘You take away all my nerves.’

  But inside my head I was more than a little worked-up. After all, if I passed this audition and the one in the afternoon some really fantastic things could come out of it. If, if, if.

  The acts were mainly singers and some of them had top voices. The girl in the cowboy hat had a great pair of lungs on her. And she danced really well too. Not that Serena agreed with me! ‘Her moves are actually very dated and she’s got an obnoxious personality.’

  ‘Unlike us,’ I replied.

  She grinned – and then it was her turn. She was totally great, and did some awesome card tricks.

  And the next contestant was me. Legs went a bit jelloid and I was sweating when I started, especially as it took a few seconds to crack my first laugh. But then I was off (and in my own accent too!) telling them the things I’ve told you, dear diary, about my parents and my school. I slipped in some impressions and a few jokes, too. Like, ‘I wouldn’t say Spitty was boring but he once sent a glass eye to sleep.’

  But the parts everyone laughed at the most were the little stories about my parents stealing away my telly and sitting in my bedroom and watching me do my homework. And it’s just fantastic up on that stage. That’s the only word for it, fantastic. And when I’d finished everyone was grinning away at me and some people patted me on the back and I felt just as if I’d made all these new friends.

  The panel have seen all the fifteen acts now and are deciding who goes on to the telly auditions this afternoon. Josie said, ‘Tough decisions have got to be made,’ which sounds a bit ominous.

  As you can imagine, the tension in here is just unbearable. Some children (and a few parents) are sitting with their hands over their faces. Others are talking really loudly and laughing a lot. I’ve been telling Serena the Sorcerer some more funny stories about my parents but my heart is thumping away. And the waiting just goes on and on.

  Hold on. Josie’s up on her hind legs . . .

  1.05 p.m.

  Wanted you to be the first to know.

  Josie only called out three names. Serena the Sorcerer, Caro, the girl in the cowboy hat, and me. We had to walk out to the front and she said, ‘We’d like you three to go through the “Yes door”, with your parents.’

  We left the theatre to the sound of everyone clapping (which was nice of them). I felt like a king.

  I’m nearly there, dear diary. Just one more stage to go.

  1.50 p.m.

  We’re back in the waiting room again. Sandwiches and drinks are scattered about. But no one’s eating much. Maddy’s disappeared to the ladies as her wig’s got very itchy! So I’m sitting here going over my act yet again and wondering if Mum’s found my note yet.

  Thinking about it now, I suppose I’ve been a bit hard on her – and Dad. I mean, it can’t be much fun having all the neighbours saying, ‘My son’s got five As today and my daughter plays the tuba. Now, is your useless son doing anything yet?’

  Well, Mum and Dad will have something to boast about soon. And when I know the date I’m going to be on telly I’ll definitely tell them. I might even go home the night it’s on and watch the show with them. And afterwards they’ll apologize for not giving me any support. But I won’t let them apologize for too long. After an hour I’ll tell them to stop.

  Just want to go and do my act again. I hate all this hanging around. Maddy’s been gone ages. But she’s coming back now, so I’ll sign off. More news updates soon.

  8.15 p.m.

  Haven’t had a chance to write any more until now. You see, a great deal has happened over the past few hours. Still can’t believe some of it.

  First of all I had to wait until a quarter past three before I got my telly audition. Now, telly auditions are totally private. It’s just you, your parents and the three wise monkeys. Serena the Sorcerer went in just before me. She was in there for ages too and then she shot out. I went up to her and she couldn’t speak at first, she was so out of breath.

  ‘They didn’t make you run round the room, did they?’ I asked.

  She laughed, then gasped, ‘I got through.’ She hugged me twice and her mum and grandad were skipping about like six-year-olds. I was dead happy for her.

  Serena wished me luck but didn’t think I would need it as I was so good. Then it was my turn.

  Josie told Maddy where to sit, then instructed me to stand on this star which was taped to the floor. There were cameras alongside me. But Josie told me to ignore them and just peer into the one bang in front of me. She said she knew it was more difficult doing my act without a large audience but she was sure I’d do just fine. Then she asked me how I felt.

  I don’t know why, but I suddenly felt really scared and unconfident. Maybe it was the sight of the living dead on either side of her. But I didn’t tell her that or she’d think I was a total amateur. So I kept up my confident front and I was away.

  Once I started the nerves fell away again. I didn’t enjoy doing it as much as I had in the theatre, but it was still a real buzz. Maddy laughed away as if she hadn’t heard it all about fourteen times already. Josie laughed too but Beardo just sat massaging his chin and Permo looked as if he’d gone into a trance.

  And then it was all over. I went and sat beside Maddy while they conferred. ‘You were just brilliant,’ she said.

  ‘Say it a bit louder,’ I grinned.

  About forty hours passed while the judges mumbled together, then Josie asked me to step forward.

  ‘Hats off to you, Louis, for getting this far. You’
ve done really well and we’ve greatly enjoyed your entertaining performance. However, tough decisions have had to be made and we’re not going to ask you to go forward to the recording tomorrow. I’m very sorry.’

  I couldn’t take in what she was saying at first. Her words seemed to be coming down a long tunnel. And then I heard myself saying, ‘Oh well, such is life.’

  ‘You’re not too disappointed, are you?’ asked Josie.

  ‘Oh no. You’ve got to roll with the punches, haven’t you?’ Even now I was determined to keep up a good front.

  Josie smiled at me and handed me a tape. ‘A little souvenir of today,’ she said. I took it in a kind of daze.

  As we were leaving Maddy cried out in her normal voice, ‘I think you’re mad. He’s just bursting with comic talent.’ As if in sympathy, her wig gave a little wiggle, and sprang forward.

  Outside Serena the Sorcerer pounced on us. ‘How did you—?’ Then she saw my face and stepped back in horror. ‘Oh no.’

  I just waved a hand at her. ‘Really glad you got through and I’ll watch you on the telly too and cheer when you come on. I promise.’

  Maddy and I stumbled our way towards reception. It might sound big-headed, but I never thought I’d lose. Not after coming so far. I felt totally humiliated. I’m obviously nowhere near as good as I think I am.

  Maddy tried to say something. But I didn’t want to talk to her. I didn’t want to talk to anyone except . . . my mum and dad. Clearly, the shock of losing must have turned my head. But at that moment, I just wanted my parents. No one else would do.

  And then I thought I saw my dad come striding into reception. Is that really him, I wondered, or am I totally losing my marbles?

  Suddenly this Dad look-alike spotted me and gave a remarkable impression of those toys whose eyes pop right out of their heads when you squeeze them.

  ‘That’s your dad,’ hissed Maddy helpfully.

  He ran over to us. He was staring at me, all shocked and anxious. ‘Louis, what on earth’s going on?’

  I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that one but luckily, my agent, her wig now hanging right over her forehead, answered for me. ‘Louis’s been auditioning to be on the telly. And he would have done it too if it hadn’t been for those two sleazeballs on the panel.’