Back in the Jug Agane

by Geoffrey Willans

  And so it go on and even me, molesworth the goriller of 3B, am not unmoved by the sentiments of the season. Helping myself to 7 spoonfulls of sugar in my tea at brekfast i look pensive.

  ‘Tell me, bro, wot are you thinking, o weedy wet?’ sa molesworth 2, making a lake of treakle in his poridge.

  i slosh him and return to my reverie.

  Time 2000.

  Scene: The laboratory of sir nigel molesworth, full of atommic instruments, retorts, bunsen burners ect. A copy of a horor comic lie on the table and, in the corner, a plektodotroscope revolve slowly, making calculations.

  Enter molesworth 2, now grown more hideous than ever. He is an interviewer for t.v.

  MOLESWORTH 2: Good evening, sir nigel. This place does not half ponk, if i may sa so.

  ‘Ah yes, that removed the figgs from syrup of figgs. A grate boon.’

  SIR NIGEL: Even with the technical progress of the 20th century no one hav been able to eliminate ponks from labs. They used to be called ‘stinks’ you kno hee-hee-hee.

  MOLESWORTH 2: now, sir nigel, one of your inventions was a cure for smoking, was it not, clot?

  SIR NIGEL: Yes, yes, That was a simple matter. i made a cig that was so long no one could reach to the end to light it. A simple application of the laws of pythagoras hee-hee-hee.

  MOLESWORTH 2: How weedy. But yore greatest invention, that by which you are world famous was the droposcope?

  SIR NIGEL: Ah yes, that removed the figgs from syrup of figgs. A grate boon.

  MOLESWORTH 2: No, clot, the droposcope.

  SIR NIGEL: Ah yes, i’m sorry. A little hard of hearing. The droposcope. That was the first ballooon to go downwards: i’m afrade it made nonsense of sir isaac newton and, of corse, the rusians were grately discomfited.

  MOLESWORTH 2: Was not a boy called peason, an old skool frend, associated with yore diskovery?

  SIR NIGEL: Peason? Well, i did kno him and he did a little of the elementary alg… mind you, i don’t want to sa a word against him… but you kno, on quite the wrong line… quite hee-hee-hee.

  MOLESWORTH 2: Hav you anything else to sa, sir nigel, in the glory of your later years?

  SIR NIGEL: Oui. Scram, you clot-faced worm, or i will utterly bash you up.

  (He seizeth the microphone and throweth it in the plektodotroscope. A bird sing: a worm turn ect.)

  And so it go on. But i do not think i will ever be the BRANE of BRITAIN as every other boy will be. Perhaps by that time there will be room in the world for a huge lout with o branes. In which case i mite still get a knighthood.

  THE END

  ****** All the fakts are CORECT for a change.

  * All fakts cored for a change.

  * All the fakts are CORECT. They have been certified by the board of trade, ticked by Sigismund the Mad Maths Master and approved by the glassblowers union cheers.