For Competition 3410 you were invited to imagine a celebrated character from a children’s book in later life. There were a lot of entries for this one, most of them excellent, and many of them pretty bleak – including Tiny Tim becoming Jack the Ripper. A possibly controversial policy of allowing only one winning entry per children’s author made for too many near-misses to list – but the £25 vouchers go to the following.
Although the charges against her were dropped, the gluing of the council leader to his chair in protest against library closures brought Matilda Wormwood’s career as a librarian to an end. She was now trying publishing, which meant arguing with Mr Molly of Molly, Coddle and Gayne. The firm had just accepted Miss Honey’s misery memoir (‘Child abuse is still profitable,’ said Mr Gayne), but Matilda and Mr Molly were at loggerheads over editing. ‘We must change the word “fat”,’ he said. ‘But it’s what the author wrote,’ protested Matilda. ‘There’s no room for body-shaming here,’ said Mr Molly. ‘A fact’s a fact,’ retorted Matilda. ‘But children must be protected from such negative comments.’ ‘Children can jolly well look after themselves. People can say what they like.’ ‘Even hate speech?’ asked Mr Moly. ‘Would you publish a children’s author who was anti-Semitic?’ ‘Oh, I’m sure that could never happen,’ said Matilda.
Nicholas Hodgson
Fifty today so it’s time to take stock;
Much as he’d like to, he can’t stop the clock.
Climate change, warfare and losing his hair:
Christopher Robin is weighed down with care.Working from home, so lost touch with his mates.
Social life only Deliveroo plates.
Ex now remarried, their children have flown.
Christopher Robin lives all on his own.If he could pray – but there isn’t a God,
Banished by Dawkins, who thought praying odd.
Netflix and Sky might console him, and then
Bracing himself to face Newsnight again.His doctor tells him to visit the gym;
Two seconds’ thought says it isn’t for him.
Thinking of all the achieving he’s missed,
Christopher Robin resolves to get pissed.D.A. Prince
My lived experience has led me to a career as a child psychologist specialising in fantasy/reality distinction. Children with this psychosis struggle to perceive the divide between the real and the non-real. They often cast themselves as heroes in bold adventures, rescuing people from burning buildings, apprehending burglars, performing circus tricks. They may attribute to themselves super-human powers, claim dialogue with mystical creatures and assign exotic roles to their parents such as buccaneer, angel. Their maladaptive dreaming becomes so absorbing it severely impairs their concentration. Attention deficit disorders are common in this cohort. Many are school refusers. With intensive therapy they may develop the ability to regulate their aberrant imagination. This process is made more difficult if their fantasies are enabled by their principal caregiver, a psychopathology with which I can identify. Distinguishing truth from fiction was a key milestone in my own recovery. Read my inspiring story at www.pippilongstocking/adhd.com.
Sue Pickard
Remember Franklin Hyde, that dud,
who found his fun in smearing mud?
Despite his uncle’s kindly thrashing,
he still thought dives in dirt were smashing,
and now his mum, poor Mrs Hyde,
wishes her filthy son had died,
(like many did in Belloc’s verse),
for what became of him was worse!
Children who dive in dirt and grime,
and love to swim in muck and slime,
and swill like pigs in all that’s rank,
harken to what became of Frank:
the man became a journalist!
If hearing this, you still insist
on sludge and slop and slime, please listen:
he then became a politician!Matt Quinn (Belloc’s Frankin Hyde)
Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret, obviously. Remember me asking for a bigger bust? I wanted to be normal. Now I’m fricking menopausal, God! After three kids I can’t find a big enough bra and they’re nearly down to my knees. I once worried about choosing either the Jewish or Christian religion. Now one child’s a Buddhist, one’s a Wiccan and my youngest is a Trump supporter. Nancy’s onto her third husband and fourth therapist. I suffer hot flashes rather than hot crushes. Gretchen shamed me on social media by recommending Botox. Instead of loafers without socks, I wear my pyjamas and dressing-gown until midday. I want to lose my brain fog and fit into my clothes, but I can’t fit all the candles on my birthday cake. The Pre-Teen Sensations are now the Post-Midlife Lunatics. Screw being a woman, God. I want to be 13 again.
Janine Beacham
It was a lovely day. It was Noddy’s birthday. He was 50 today. He would visit his best friend Big Ears. He would invite him to his party. They would have a gay time. Then he remembered. Big Ears was in gaol. ‘Historical offences,’ they said. The little nodding man didn’t know what they meant.
He would invite Mr Plod. Then he remembered. Mr Plod was taken to the home after his nervous breakdown. Policemen didn’t go out anymore. They used computers. Mr Plod couldn’t learn to use them.
Tessie Bear and Dinah Doll. But Tessie Bear was too busy being mayor of Toytown. Dinah Doll was also busy. She was building a skyscraper even though she was a girl.
He would have to ask his friends from another book. He would invite George and her wife. She will like that. Her famous cousins don’t talk to her.
Ralph Goldswain
No. 3413: Category error
J.G. Ballard wrote ‘The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor Race’. You are invited to consider another event, small or large, in a category to which it does not belong (150 words maximum). Please email entries to competition@spectator.co.uk by 13 August.
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