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Thursday, 12 February 2015

In which One’s storytelling life begins…

story

One has always been rather keen on spinning a yarn…

As you know, Dear Reader, this very tome contains but a grain of truth…

Awake in the early hours with nothing on TV save Panorama droning on about HSBC assisting it’s v wealthy clients in tax-dodging, One fell into a reverie…

(Like we don’t all know that this country is set up to make the rich richer and the poor die from ignorance and want)

One, for some reason, drifted back to the days of a v young Lovely One…

All blonde curls, huge blue eyes and a powerful right-hander, One was relayed to school by the mother of a class-mate (Aged P had to moon about over the Brother, so didn’t have time)

I believe the other child was called Janice or some such semi-detached name of the day. The Mother was a large ungainly woman clad in Crimpelene, as I recall, who used to push a bicycle along side us as we skipped up the hill. 

Anyway, One, being born aged around 47, and being bored with only the Aged P to terrorise, decided to see how stchoopid adults actually were and embarked upon a lifetimes storytelling to see how far One could go without getting caught.

‘Twas in the days when summer sandals, plimsolls and the like were whitened by those ghastly foam tipped containers of gooey white stuff.  One, sporting Clarks Start-Rite’s suitably ‘whitened’ decided to embroider a tale for Janice and her Mother.

By the time we got to school One had convinced both that One’s shoes had started off life as ‘red shoes’ and One’s Mother had dyed the shoes white.

A silly tale with no reason to be told other than to demonstrate the persuasive powers of a very young Lovely One.

One can recall, even now, the superior feeling One had all day, until, upon being collected by Aged P and ‘The Brother’ in his pram, was given a biff round the ear and marched home to face the Father.

The v stchoopid Janice Mother had been round in One’s absence to enquire where she could purchase the marvellous shoe dye and thereupon One’s jolly jape had been discovered.

Seeing One as a ‘Devil-child’, Janice and Mother never again escorted One to school.

I’ve never understood that.  I should have thought that they would have been impressed by the story telling powers of One so young.

Any road up, it meant that One had to skip to school on One’s own and get bashed up by Jonathan Hill every sodding day…

More on that story later… 

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