Five days!

To go to the show.

I had forgotten how long it takes to get ready for a show.  Not the making, which takes a lifetime of practise and the practical six months from one show to the next, but the actual packing.

When I began doing this, thirty years ago, I had few dolls to display but still a six foot table to fill. So I designed a big wooden stand and covered it in velvet. The velvet pile helped the dolls to stand up and the stand raised them up from the table. The stand fitted nicely in the boot of the large car we had at the time and not in any subsequent boot, which is why it has lived for quarter of a century in the attic.  Given the petrol situation, cars are only likely to get smaller, so the subsequent quarter century has been one of continuing efforts to fit a quart into a pint pot but put a gallon on the table when you get there.  I have just bought another wheeled craft case, because two previously broken arms do not encourage hefting big bags.

I have a vast amount of stuff but it’s tiny, so I have to devise ways of getting it up near your eyes without it falling to its doom on the very hard floor.  I have already dropped two boxes of dolls in the last week, tripping over all the boxes of stuff on the floor, and broken two twelfth scale dolls.

In the midst of all this Andy Hopwood, show organiser, asked me to update the pictures in the Miniatura online brochure.  I have always been too flipping busy helping other artists, to update my own output anywhere but here. So I made time.

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and you can see these under Miniatura Online at  and the works of all the other exhibitors at the show, so you can plan your visit.

Andy informs me there are just a few tickets left for Saturday.  Sunday is pay at the door. Visitors have debated the merits of going for the Saturday show.  Visitor numbers tend to be fairly consistent and the show has always been designed with very wide aisles and limited exhibitor numbers, so there’s never a horrible crush, though you may have to wait to get to the front of popular stands and queue for lunch, if you haven’t brought it with you.  The main reason, I believe, for going on the earlier day, is if you are a keen collector and you want to get the one-offs or the bargains, which do tend to sell out.  I would like to remind anyone who has been shopping on craft shopping channels and big websites in the interim, that the glory of Miniatura is that it is mostly the exhibition of miniature items hand-made and sold by the craftsperson who made them.  The only things mass-produced in factories, unlike the goods on shopping TV, or many retailing websites, are tools on the tool stands, or some haberdashery supplies.  Many of the items sold to make miniatures, such as wooden mouldings and turnings are also individually hand-made. There is also plenty of inspiration in the form of exhibits by individuals and clubs and there are charity stands recycling pre-loved minis.  Anyone who bought a ticket for the show that was cancelled for Covid, still has entry on that ticket, bring it with you, please.

I thoroughly recommend buying the brochure at the door if you don’t want to miss anything.  Organised visitors bring a pencil and scribble on the brochure as they go round.  If you come with a friend I would also suggest arranging a meeting point because one of you will wander off into the magical forest  and get lost and it could be you.  There will be hand sanitiser, I’d use that a lot and your hand cream when you get home with the tiny packets.

Safety guidelines for the virus are on the first page of the show guide.  Mask wearing will be welcomed.  I’ll be wearing one and/or a visor as I could not do the last show for health reasons and would like to do this one without worrying afterwards that I’ve brought something home that I didn’t want.  There will be six hand sanitiser stations around the show.  I sell dolls and have always encouraged people to pick them up, so please do your mitts before you handle the dolls; if everyone does that we’ll all be OK.  The last request is for space, the final frontier.  All of Miniatura is great, if there are a lot of people at the stand you wish to view, go and visit elsewhere and return later.  I have interviewed many experienced show visitors who told me they start at the back and work forwards, or go round the wall stands first.  Stand holders with many little kits, or supplies, know how to do it and have enough stock to last the weekend.  The show guide is your friend, it has contact details of the exhibitors, who are there to sell stuff.  So, if something you fancied had been bought while you had a cup of tea and thought about it, ask if they can make you one and send it.  I did once, about twenty five years ago, make something overnight for a show visitor but I was younger then and obviously, slightly insane.  When I was a magazine writer I used to take kits home to review, make them in the evening and bring them back for the magazine to photograph on Sunday, and write the review on Monday.  Over quarter of a century later I still love the show and everything about it, I just need a bit more sleep.

It’s Miniatura! It’s back!  It’s at the NEC!  It’s the R&R day we all need away from the troubles of the world!  I’ve run out of exclamation marks…….no, I’ve found one.

A week to go!  See you there.


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Many dolls.

Doll dressing continues apace.  Well, I say apace.  I find whatever I’m doing with dolls, though I would like to do it all day from 7 till 11, I can’t.  It’s a very concentrated effort that is required with dolls this small.  Whether sewing with tiny stitches or rubbing down, after a couple of hours the work begins to go off a bit.  If it’s porcelain I start to break it, if I’m sewing the stitches become gigantic.  Gigantic here meaning over 1mm.  Neat is 0.5mm, sloppy is 1.5mm.  Now that I have had my cataracts done I can see every last mm and I don’t think mmmm, I think ‘pull out and start again’.

Despite the mandatory breaks, a doll a day gets dressed.  Here are some.

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I wasn’t going to stop and photograph but I had a request from Andy Hopwood, show organiser, so I did.

There is also this one

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and that’s it for now.  There are plenty more dolls, but not plenty of photographed dolls.  By the show there will be heaps.  It looks as if I may have reached the magical number of a thousand items all hand made by me to put on my table.  If you’d like to see for yourself what a thousand things made by one person looks like, I’ll see you here

in a bit less than a fortnight.


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Gone fishing.

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Apologies for the recent radio silence.  I was on grandparent duty while the S&H and his bride had a break.

Now I am back at the work table I need to get my head down and get on with the dolls. It’s only two weeks to the show and all the details you need are here.

More from me when there’s more to show you.  I am concentrating on 24th scale, which is my favourite because you can have a proper dolls’ house with everything working, that can fit on a windowsill.

Laptop down, needle up.


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2 day

Today is two,
It is Two day
Two day two you
In any way
Read two or fro
A palindrome
Two two 0 going
And coming home.

Two is the number
On Toosday two,
A day for me
A day for you
Two do what we
Would like two do
Choose carefully
It’s up two you.

Remember what you
Choose two do
Throughout your life
Will follow you.
Bairns yet unborn
Will ask of you
What did you do
On day of Two?

‘I was there’
You’ll tell them true.
‘ I honoured everything
That’s two
I taught two toucans
To sing in twone
While I twootled a floowte
At the sun and the moon.

Other stuff I wanted two
Was mostly done
By ten Two two
Two lunches two,
Two teas, how nice,
Two cakes, two Twix
And was quite sick twice
By ten Two six.

I watched two tellies
Two phones, two apps and then
Had two massive headaches
By ten two ten.

We had sunshine and rain
Two kinds of weather
There was BBC Two news
About doing things twogether.’

I then decided
This was enough for me
Because if I keep the numbers up –
Twomorrow’s 23.


I would have posted this bit of verse about 22.2.22 earlier but I couldn’t get the computer to work, so I went downstairs to work out while I was waiting, and the telly wasn’t working either.  Sometimes I think I bring things on myself, I really do.


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Dolls for the Min

Under normal circumstances, whatever they are, at this point a few weeks before the show I would be dashing around like a mad fool, doing multitasking, other wise known as displacement activity.

The facial injury, however, makes anything other than sitting quietly, inadvisable. So I am getting on with dolls.

The dolls, for new readers, are porcelain. They are my design and manufacture.  I sculpt the dolls in epoxy resin, make plaster of Paris moulds from each part, pour liquid clay into the moulds which absorb the water allowing me to remove a solid casting from the mould.  I then clean the surface of the hollow casting, or insert stringing hooks that I have made into solid castings.  When I have a kiln full of dry castings, which can take several weeks, I then fire the  casts, the high temperature in the kiln drives off the air jacket round each molecule of clay, turning it into porcelain, a different, durable substance.

I then wash and scrub every part, and when they are dry I china paint the result.  China paint doesn’t dry until it is fired again in the kiln.  Once cooled I can then string the parts together to make a doll.

The dolls that I am dressing currently are 24th scale.  They are under three inches tall.

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As you can see this doll is made up of ten individual pieces of porcelain.

I began with a couple of Georgian gentlemen.

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And have just started on the ladies to go with them.

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There are some Incredibles

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And finally for now, some pirates

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It’s wonderful what being forced to sit down can do for you.  If I can only find my specs, I’ll get on with some more.



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Cracked pot.

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Here it is.  A cracked pot, for which I am grateful.

This morning before breakfast I put out the lockdown library, as usual.  I was in my curlers and my garden overcoat, which has seen better days.  A red warning storm is forecast for tonight and we are right in the eye of it.  Therefore I decided to take the pots full of bulbs off the low wall and put them on the ground.

The pot is large.  Having picked it up I was unable to see the ground, or the handle of the library cart.

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Into which I placed my foot as I pivoted, crashing into the ground, which I cleverly caught with my face.  A lady driving past stopped to see if I was alright, it was kind of her because, as I was soon aware, there was blood everywhere.

I went in and found the OH, who was in the shower.  He got dried and dressed and took me to hospital, clutching tissues which I was soaking through very efficiently.

I hadn’t had breakfast or even a cup of tea but four hours later was back home, having had my knee and my face X rayed,  No bones broken, hooray hooray.  They stuck me together with medical glue and Steri strips.  The scar is a few inches long, right down my neck and over my jaw.  I think it was probably the broken edge of the pot that did it.  But the pot took the impact instead of me and I am grateful to it.  It would not have been clever five weeks from the Min to have broken my jaw.  Everything hurts and is swollen but they say there may be no scar, so my chances of being Miss World are unaltered.

I just have to find some teeth that will chew without hurting.  And a cup of tea.


Ceramics are good.  This brave pot saved my jaw.  Newtonian forces and all that.


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One of the features of modern life is the effects wrought on a body and mind by modern medication.  The last few hundred years in the West and hundreds of years in the East have seen the ills of the body and mind being ameliorated or potentially cured by the ingestion or absorption of substances derived from plants or animals or synthesised by chemicals.

As the list of non-food items we ingest grows, so does the list of allergies we suffer from.  Drugs and medication of many varieties can have dramatic effects on us.  If we are compos mentis and have been prescribed a drug which causes an allergic reaction, or an extreme reaction, or an unexpected side effect, we may notice this and report it, causing the dosage to be changed or a different medication altogether tried.

As you know if you’re a regular reader, I spent the last decade fetching up in hospital very frequently.  One of the first questions is the one about what it is you are allergic to.  When I broke my arm so spectacularly and was swimming in an ocean of pain, I found it really difficult to answer the question, despite having been asked it routinely in the same hospital on numerous occasions, on which I had previously trotted out the well-rehearsed short list.

The same situation surrounding a demented person with a dodgy memory, an inclination to react aggressively to unfamiliar people or rooms and a long term, tiring illness, means that the patient may be taking a medication which does not agree with them for a very long time before this is spotted.  They can’t tell you if something they are taking is making them feel odd because they feel odd all the time.

It is getting increasingly difficult to talk to SMIL because she has a tendency to put herself to bed after every meal.  When I ring it can take up to half an hour to actually reach her on the phone.  Increasingly I never get that far, as someone in the office will go off through the building only to return ten or fifteen minutes later to report that she is asleep, would I like them to wake her to speak to me? Of course I never want anyone to wake her.  Considering how drastically her life has changed since this time last year, when we were having hour long chats that were lucid and happy, with her in her own home, not diagnosed with anything, I do not want anyone to wake her if she is in a happier place in her dreams.

SMIL’s daughter writes that nursing staff are wondering if her medication is making her sleepy.  You don’t say.  The medication is to calm her, not least because other residents are terrified of her and the terror is affecting their mental health.  It seems so hard to believe that this gentle person, quietly supported by a life-long religious faith, is now running round a care home, smashing windows, hitting staff with a telephone and pointing her stick at other residents.

SMIL’s daughter is summoned to medication meetings with various agencies at the start of next month, and is hoping for a few days away first, to bolster her courage.

I consider a hard aspect of dementia to be: whatever it is various agencies are planning to do to your loved demented person, to make them deal-able with in a residential setting, with other sick people, and your own contribution to that.  SMIL’s daughter has Power of Attorney for medical matters granted to her by her mother.  I did not have that for my mother.  I had Power of Attorney for finance but in discussion early in the disease with my mother we agreed that leaving medication decisions up to doctors would be the route to go down. My mother, of course, craved attention from doctors. A procession of doctors quickly became dinner party guests. To her mind me getting in the way of her, as she saw it, charming the pants off a doctor, would have been undesirable.  Yet I think this decision, by whatever means arrived at, did me a favour.  I had enough on my plate commuting and sorting out the legal problems, running the household and managing the finances. I was grateful not to have to make the medical decisions.  As it was I swotted up on diseases of the brain until doctors asked me where I had done my training and I still didn’t think I knew enough to decide which drug would benefit my mother.

SMIL’s care home are trying a variety of medications, in an effort to find the right one.  It is my personal belief that a procession of differing medications, given to a person who was previously wary of taking an aspirin, might be contra-indicted, to put it in medical jargon.

Whilst there are no easy or obvious answers to this dilemma, what is clear is that SMIL’s daughter, having medical POA, will be let in for a lot of meetings.  The current situation with the pandemic and staff shortages also present a possibility that SMIL’s daughter will nerve herself up for a meeting that gets cancelled, which has happened before.

Taking care of my mother by engaging a private care firm and re-mortgaging her home, effectively selling her house to provide for her care, had the benefits of reducing the number of lengthy meetings with the professionals.  If you choose to request care assistance from agencies, however many agencies are involved will require a meeting about their level of involvement and decisions reached, and they will keep their own paperwork, and you will be required to inform yourself of it, not least so that everything is transparent and above board to protect the patient and the nursing and care staff.

It is a terrible choice to have to make, do you throw all the money you can access at the problem and, largely keep it to yourself, so to speak, cutting down the meetings, potentially having to run out of money and resort to other means anyway?  Do you embrace the right to social assistance and keep the money, if there is any, maybe for greater care further down the line, letting yourself in for more consultations than you ever wanted with opinionated people, you may not like at all?

There is no right or wrong answer. All I can offer in the way of help is the knowledge that others have been in this dilemma before you.

There are classical stories in which the hero, entering the underworld, stands before three closed doors.  One door leads to eternal fire, one to perpetual agony, one to a rickety stair which may lead up or down.  If you are the hero in this you have the added complication of carrying your loved one over your shoulder; you are choosing the door for both of you.

You may see this as a good argument for having plentiful discussions with your demented relative as soon as possible after diagnosis.

I can tell you from personal experience that cancer and dementia are not diseases that like to be ignored.  The sooner you embrace them, investigate and discuss them with others, the more choices you will have and possibly, the more possibilities to ameliorate the progress of the disease.  I am sure, if you are an avid reader of the dementia diaries, that you will be aware that a vaccine that entirely cures dementia is on the cards in the future. This, needless to say, is a game changer.  The better condition you can deliver your demented person in, to the future, the more future they may have.

But if you fail and the situation only goes downhill and you have every meeting pointlessly with every self-serving official life can serve up, know at least that you did engage with the situation.  Recognise that if it were you with dementia, you would be so glad of a relative going on to bat for you and so bereft if you were abandoned, that any effort to help is a good effort.

And if you are reading this, you are making the effort, good on you.  If all you can do is go and give your demented person a hug, a phone call, a postcard, you will feel better in the future because you did not run away.


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Spring Min.

It is looking as likely as rain in England that Spring Miniatura will take place at the NEC.

Therefore I am working flat out dressing dolls.  When I say flat out, it took me a week to rev up to speed.  There is always a point in starting up an old endeavour when you really can’t believe you ever did that, if it is something difficult.  It has been two years since I had my fingers on the tiny thin needles, it has also been two years since I last poked a needle eye or pointy end up between my finger nail and the finger beneath.  I had also forgotten that silk, being the only fabric soft enough to bend round a limb as thin as a pencil lead, also has a mind of its own and a tendency to faint like a duchess and slide on to the floor with a hissing sound.  You then stamp on it and leave a great big footprint, or bending down smash your head into the table, or, for fun, both.

This is also an activity posing great risk to health because you are basically just sitting, keeping yourself going with chocolate or sugar in some form, and, to save getting it on your fingers, shovelling it in, in one great lump.  A week of this and you will need a couple of valets, one on either side. like Henry V111th essaying a new untried armchair, just to clamber on the scales.  The OH bought new scales, weight watchers ones, which are horribly accurate.  No more standing in the wardrobe with one toe on the scales, arm grasping the rail, breathe in, lift, take a reading, double toe loop and dismount.  If they ever did cheat weighing as an Olympic sport, the field would be VAST. (So would the, for want of a better word, athletes.)

There is no point in the making of miniature porcelain dolls at which you can relax concentration without totally messing it up.  From clay poured so thick it isn’t hollow enough to string, to entire rows of giant stitches in a garment that took half an hour to cut out and fray check, the whole undertaking is fraught with annoyance.  Having spent the whole day getting in the zone, you then go to bed with yourmindbuzzinglikethis, and take two hours to get to sleep.

Nevertheless I am delighted to be doing it again.  You would think after however many years it’s been (I think about 36)  I would be heartily tired of making difficult, miniature porcelain dolls and trying to actually make them look like tiny people with expression and personality while still being very doll-like and not in any way threatening.  But I am not tired or bored, I am still interested.

Interestingly, though it is my distant sight that has been mended, the cataract surgery has helped so much, that, with appropriate magnification, I can see every single mistake in great detail.  Lovely.

So I’ll get on with this and when I have something to show you I will.  I’m currently making 24th scale dolls because it is my favourite scale.  I have a hoard of thin articulated ten piece porcelain under three inch dolls to be getting on with, so I’ll do that then.


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The Min.

It is two years since I was writing about Miniatura.

Just in case you are a new reader, please allow me to enlighten you.  Miniatura is the miniature art show that has been in existence since the eighties, of the last century.  I visited it then and have attended as an exhibitor for about thirty years.  There have been a couple of years that I missed recently with broken arms, cancer and the disastrous aftermath of surgery.  The disaster coincided with the pandemic that caused the show to be cancelled at the last minute two years ago. I wrote about it up until the cancellation and showed you the dolls I was making for the show.  Miniatura began again last autumn but I still wasn’t really well enough to do the show.

There have been shows of numerous kinds for the dolls’ house hobby, in its current flowering since the 1970s.  This hobby has flourished like a weed for several thousand years.  The first inklings of it that have survived can be glimpsed in museums across the world which house ancient Egyptian tomb artefacts.  The Pharaohs of long ago liked to face the afterlife well provided with everything they had enjoyed in life.  Where the items they would require were too big to be accommodated in a tomb, modellers provided all that was necessary in miniature.  Buildings, boats, people, animals, everything in scale and as detailed as was required to ensure the artefacts would be correct on the other side of life.  They were a wish list.  Whilst you will undoubtedly find samples in a big museum near you, I have found the Ashmolean museum to have a good a collection for our purposes. the many models of buildings, livestock and people are made with such love and care, you only have to look at them to see the work of an undoubted miniaturist.  The care with the modelling, painting and details is not just paid work, it is obviously work in which the delight in the construction has eliminated all drudgery.  I write as someone who has made in miniature for thirty years and interviewed artisans for a long time; there is always a point at which the art takes over and there you are, lost in a little world of your own making, making it as perfect as you can because only that will do.

Ancient Roman households had small altars with figures of gods, offerings and oil lamps.  These miniature models of heaven were found wherever the Roman Empire flexed its claws. Not dolls’ houses as such but sufficiently widespread miniature modelling to ensure that you could consider going into production as a job.

The weed then sprang to life in various famous examples of villages and individual houses. Five hundred years ago the miniature house was a teaching aid for any aristocratic little girl whose future was to be running an important household.

Between the first and second world wars Queen Mary sought to lift the spirits of the nation by commissioning a dolls’ house, which still resides at Windsor Castle.  She ensnared the famous in various disciplines, who produced in miniature whatever they were notorious for in large.  Writers wrote miniature books, painters painted miniature paintings, furniture makers made furniture and so on.  This high profile interest has nourished the weed for a hundred years to date, and took what had become a Victorian children’s toy into the realms of legitimate adult interest miniature art.  Which is where the hobby was when I found it, or it found me.

What makes Miniatura so very good, in my frequently banged on about opinion, is that it was founded by Muriel Hopwood for the purpose of giving miniaturists a place to exhibit in the Midlands of Great Britain that was easy to get to and didn’t cost a lot to exhibit in or visit.  Wonderfully, the show, now run by Muriel’s son, Andy, has never lost sight of the original intention that it was a show by miniaturists for miniaturists. At one point, about twenty years ago, the show itself became very famous, at which point the organisers were besieged by tradesmen wanting to make money and urging the organisers to expand the show or wedge another few stands in by the toilets or on the way in.  The organisers stuck to their guns, exhibition was by qualification  by committee examination. No mass cheap imports, no stands that have nothing to do with miniatures.  Nothing that’s not good enough. The entire show is about miniatures and miniaturists and always has been.  It’s a great day out because every single stand is relevant to the hobby.  Aware of the variety of miniaturists, the aisles have always been wide enough for wheel chair users’ comfort.  There is always a place to sit and eat your sandwiches.  The focus is on the miniatures and seeing the miniatures.

At one point I became quite famous too, writing the funny column, and anything else for a variety of magazines.  I was then begged by other show organisers to do their shows elsewhere.  I have not done so, except for a couple of small charity shows, for a friend.  Part of the problem is that everything on my table is hand made by me.  I usually have close to a thousand items, certainly many hundreds, mostly porcelain.  If you are visiting my stand I like to have a lot for you to look at and to know you cannot get it anywhere else.  And I think that’s the point of a hobby day out.  I keep my prices very modest because when I started the only money I had to spend on miniatures was gathered by missing meals.  I once worked out that I was working for 43p an hour.  It’s just as well I’m not employed, I’d have to sack myself.  But you know if you like my style of miniatures, which have always been naïve and doll-like (because I like dolls and it is the dolls’ house, you know – when they’re made of porcelain, you’re just temporary), you’ll be buying something you cannot get anywhere else in the world for a pocket money price.

Because it is about the hobby. It is about the collecting, the making, the absorption into a smaller, better world of your own designing.

Only occasionally does reality intrude.  Such as, for example, a global pandemic.

I will keep writing about the show and hope to be there and see you there.  It is the weekend of the 19th and 20th of March 2022 at the NEC, if the pandemic does not do another surge, if the government does not change the rules.

If you are a miniaturist exhibiting at the show and would like to be featured here, please get in touch.  For details about the show which is still an astoundingly original, modestly priced day out with a hall full of world class original artists working in many disciplines (it’s good, it’s really good) please click on the link below.


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Careers Advice.

The new Head, opening his study,
Said, ‘Welcome to you, Mr Toddy,
Mrs Toddy put your body
In this chair.

There is no need to appraise me,
You really can’t surprise me,
I already recognise why
You both are here.

I assume that Toddy Junior
Is why you are in this room here
You hope I am the new broom here
To sweep the dust away.

I have just got his report
It is long, it is not short
Not a teacher yet got caught
With nought to say.

His maths teacher, Mr. Frisson
At some length is really wishing
He believed in long division
Or being neat.

His gym teacher, Mr. Merit,
Says he’s lacking in team spirit
And does not know how to do it
With his feet.

His form teacher made remarks
On things he does for larks
On the school field, and in some parks
In any weather.

Other stuff from other tutors –
‘Quite despairing’, ‘Has no future’
I think I will read them to you
All together.

“He does things I cannot mention
Right outside of all convention
Absolutely with intention
To annoy.

He is arrogant and haughty
He far surpasses naughty
He’s a layabout – not sporty
For a boy.

He likes to snap his braces
And pull rude and silly faces
And have worm and beetle races
All at once.

We caught him smoking and sniffing glues,
Wearing other children’s shoes
And I regret to have to tell you
He’s a dunce.

He’s a well accomplished liar,
He is an idler – not a trier
He’s no ambitions to aspire
To get a job.

We have often caught him fighting,
He steals other children’s writing
He will fart right through a night in –
He’s a slob.”

‘Oh dear!’ cried Mrs Toddy
‘If Junior’s a bad boy
Should we put him in the Navy
All at sea?’

‘Or the Air Force?’ asked his father,
‘Unless, that is, you’d rather
Send him off to be a soldier
Advise me.’

‘Please leave him,’ said the Head
‘This is not a thing to dread
Cuthbert Toddy is the lad
We think we know.

We have had his type before
Walking right in through that door
In fact, there are many more,
From long ago.

They are haughty and repulsive
Lying and compulsive
Ruthless and subversive
To a man.

When they graduate to College
With huge bribes but little knowledge
(Because we like to stir the porridge
If we can) –

On these wooden plaques we add here
The name of any lad here
Who does well when he’s left here
Later on.

Look! This lad, Junior Purviss,
Now runs the Civil Service
He is devious and churlish
Loud and fat.

This boy, Siddiq Brabinet,
Has three times lead the cabinet
Whilst possessing all the intellect
Of a gnat.

There’s a mover, shaker, wheeler,
A very rich arms dealer
This one heads the Met – the Peelers
A long time.

Cuthbert Toddy, I assure you
Is the lad in whom to put your
Faith, he has a solid future
As P.M.

He’s a mendacious, idle boy
Unsurpassably annoy
ing, they will welcome him with joy
At Number 10.


I appear to be suffering from intermittent doggerel.  Who knows when it will end?  Do you?

Me neither.


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