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Thar’ll p’raps not remember fest ‘un,
But this is Infantum Horribilis Belseveorium part two.
Abart a Wimpey lad at Grammar school,
And, unfortunately, it’s a tale that’s true.
It wozzata time when a four minute mile still made news,
And I knew that woz summat as I couldn’t do.
But, I’d gorrit firmly fixed, in me head,
That I could run ‘aif a mile in two!
Runnin’ up and darn Hill at Bozer,
Meant I woz just like a mountain goat,
So, runnin’ on flat meant there was no gravity,
Tha’d just set off, and tha’d float!
It was fest time I’d stopped behind after school,
Well, voluntarily anyway,
And, timing missen, lap after lap,
I knew that elusive two minutes weren’t far away.
After abart a fortnit’s training, I did it!
One minute and fifty-nine!
A good ten seconds inside school record,
That Blue Riband trophy were gunna be mine!
On sports day, we were second sitting at dinner,
Gi’ing me time to stretch me legs and do a warm up lap,
But, wor’appened next meant I’d be late for,
Or, worse still, even miss me snap!
“Hey! You there!! Stop messing about!
And come off the running track!!”
“Get this litter cleared up from round the commentator’s podium!
It had better be gone when I get back!!”
It was the Head Perfect (not mispelt),
The star athlete of the school,
He’d ran in the All England Finals,
A barrister’s son, the original, arrogant Mister Cool!
Crisp packets, sweet papers, I gathered them all up,
But, where was I to put them all?
Then I had a brilliant idea, rammed all the lot in,
And wedged it in tight wi’ an old, discarded tennis ball!
Can tha remember them old horn-shaped Klaxxon loudspeakers?
As a rubbish receptacle, it woz just rait!
Everything went in, then I had to rush off,
If I wanted to get summat to ate!
He woz theer at starting line, wi’ his Upper Sixth mates,
And I’ll remember what he said to my dying day.
“Have a good race for second place, lads
And just kick this oik from Lower Fifth out of the way!”
Then he removed his track suit and revealed his kit,
Spikes, silk shorts - the lot, now I really was hurt.
Wi’ me big toes poking through me worn black pumps,
And navy blue shorts,”converted” from me dad’s old working shirt.
Sports master went up to microphone and said,
“Ladies, gentlemen, honoured guests, girls and boys”,
But what came out of sabotaged loudspeaker,
Was a terrible, whistling, piercing noise!
No time to worry about that now,
‘Cos the starter had fired his gun.
But, take it from me, as when tha laughing,
It ai’nt half hard to run!
In no time at all, I woz “miles” in front,
I couldn’t believe it when I looked back!
There was old bulging – eyed Big-Head,
Leading the rest of the pack!
Then --- I felt something go!!
I stopped, but I couldn’t feel any pain,
By this time, they’d all passed me,
So I set off after them again.
I jogged a bit, just to make sure,
As everything was orlrate,
And it were, and I just flew past them all,
In the finishing straight.
I’d done it!! I’d won summat!!
That athletics Blue Riband was mine!!
For fest time in me life, I knew worrit were like,
To be living on Cloud Nine!!
All the girls were swooning and screaming,
And I could hear the crowd chanting, ”Johnee!! -- Johnee!!”,
This was my moment of fame, Elvis! Cliff! Billy Fury!
Eat your hearts out! This adulation was for me!!
Then, as usually happens,
I got brought back to Earth with a clout!
Me best mate came bounding towards me and said,
“Heyup! Thi shorts have split!! Thi willies hanging out!!!”
From high to low in a split second,
There was no stone small enough to crawl under,
Then who should come steaming up but Headmaster,
Wi’ an expression on his face like thunder!
Just when tha thinks as things can’t get any worse, well they can,
As I was about to find out.
“Come to my office in ten minutes, boy!”
“There’s a loudspeaker we need to talk about!!”.
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