Wednesday, 2 July 2008

Sleeping with the lights on

Meeting of the Secret Society Responsible For Giving Children Nightmares

'Thanks for coming, everyone. Help yourself to Garibaldis. They really are squashed flies inside them. At least, that's the party line. Now, let's begin. We all know the Society is in trouble. Children these days aren't scared of anything. I read it in The Daily Mail. Authority, prison, ghosts, daleks – they're just bouncing off these kids like fruit gums. They hardly ever even show Chitty Chitty Bang Bang on TV any more. So can anyone actually give us some good news? Clive?'

'Well [shuffles papers proudly], yes, actually. I'm quite excited about this one. There's some truly excellent work being done in the Dulwich Village area.'

'Dulwich Village? Where the mere idea of a bus running down the main street is so inharmonious to the overall vision they've been banished to the outskirts?'

'That's right, Keith. That's what makes this so exciting. Just look at this incredibly sinister dummy wedged in a tree in the playground of an infant school.'


'God, that is really horrible. Simple, sure, but devastatingly effective. Firstly, they've taken the battle to the target's very own play area. Secondly, they've really gone back to basics. Dummies, guys, mannequins – all fantastically disturbing. We've really been caught napping here. The primitive approach is a masterstroke. Carry on, Clive, carry on.'

'Well, I particularly like the way the head droops to one side at such an angle as to make it look exactly like an asphyxiated corpse. It's just so… haunting.'

'Like the bit in Jesus Christ Superstar when Judas hangs himself, which I'm not too big to say I found very traumatic as a child?'

'Yes, Keith, exactly like that. And allow me to draw your attention to the emaciated, prisoner-of-war-style flesh-coloured stick leg. Of which there is only one.'

'One! And is it…? Yes! Footless too! Quite, quite brilliant. Oof, I don't mind saying, I think someone just walked over my grave. Shall we break for lunch?'


2 comments:

big brother said...

On a related note, Mrs Jones The Younger (sister in law to the eponoymous Miss Jones of this blog and mother to Harriet Jones, Young Miss Jones The Younger) counts, amongst her diverse contributions to the community, occasional care of the pets at the school attended by the Young Miss Jones'. She nobly undertook the duty of taking Toffee, the much loved, but alas much afflicted, school rabbit for his last visit to the vets - on a one-way ticket (if you know what I mean). The headteacher resolved to communicate this sad news sensitively to the children - telling them during assembly that Toffee was feeling very poorly, so Mrs Jones had taken him in her car to the doctors, where he had a special injection that would mean he wouldn't feel poorly again. Ever.

Fast forward a week. One of the Miss Jones The Youngers' class mates is taken ill at school. Frantic 'phone calls to dad, who is away, and mum, who is nearby but doesn't drive. Mrs Jones happens to be in school at the time, and offers her services. The classroom door opens. The school secretary pops her head round it - "It's okay, Mrs Jones will take you to the doctor's in her car". A small child goes very, very, pale and start trembling. Her classmates emit a collective little gasp...

Crazy Cousin said...

Miss Jones I am a first time visitor to your site and found this last blog to be quite amusing. After reading Big Brother saids comment, if I were a child, I am not sure I would get into a car with your sister in law either!