[John Whitworth]

Grinding of teeth. More prose. Humph!

No. 2814: genesis

We all occasionally have good ideas in unlikely circumstances. You are invited to describe those in which a great writer might have stumbled upon an idea that he or she would later put to good use (150 words maximum). Please email entries, where possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 4 September.

[Brian Allgar]

John, Lucy often accepts verse as well as prose. After all, look at Frank MacDonald's winner this week. (I certainly hope she does - I suggested this one some months ago, and had assumed it could be verse or prose!)

[John Whitworth]

In that case, Brian...

[Graham King]

“A neighbourhood boy, Abner, used to tease the goldfish in their garden pond… especially a big white one. One summer day, when he’d been sitting cooling his feet in the water, it had unexpectedly nibbled his toe, startling him; he hated it thereafter. He’d ‘hunt it’ around the pond, dabbling with a stick, stretching, while peering wrathfully. His best mate Buck said, “Don’t! You know you’ll get into trouble,” but Ab laughed and continued determinedly, even inciting other boys to join in. One day, truly seeing ‘that white fiend’, he over-reached with his poking stick and fell in, yelling. Lifted out, drenched, he got one hell of a row from his pa; his mom said, “You’ll be lucky not to catch your death! You might’ve drowned.” But Ab blamed the White Goldfish, claiming it had pulled him in.
If ever I should believe that, you can call me ‘Imbecile’.”

(Herman Melville - inspiration for ‘Moby-Dick, or, The Whale’)

[John Whitworth]

Genesis

If you're a little four-eyed git,
You find you have to pay for it.
The nasty bigger boys will come.
To smash your specs and kick your bum,
They'll take your guinea-pig and boil it
And push your head right down the toilet.
But then, when you are feeling bad,
They tuck you up, your mum and dad.

Your life's a miserable place.
You're fat. You've got an ugly face.
Your spots are bad.Your breath is rank
And everybody knows you wank.
You've got no friends. Your future's bleak.
You haven't shat for half a week.
But then, when you are feeling sad,
They buck you up, your mum and dad.

[basil ransome-davies]

Originally Posted by John Whitworth

Genesis

If you're a little four-eyed git,
You find you have to pay for it.
The nasty bigger boys will come.
To smash your specs and kick your bum,
They'll take your guinea-pig and boil it
And push your head right down the toilet.
But then, when you are feeling bad,
They tuck you up, your mum and dad.

Your life's a miserable place.
You're fat. You've got an ugly face.
Your spots are bad.Your breath is rank
And everybody knows you wank.
You've got no friends. Your future's bleak.
You haven't shat for half a week.
But then, when you are feeling sad,
They buck you up, your mum and dad.

No, don't tell me – let me guess.

[John Whitworth]

I hope you don't think it's subtle, Bazza. I don't do subtle. The big bow-wow style, that's me.