(The misspelling of some words and abuse of grammar in this one sided conversation piece is deliberate.)
- Hey Johny, stop screamin’ for your mummy. Your mum’s at work, she can’t bloomin’ hear ya anyways! So belt up!… Stop pickin’ your nose and stop lickin’ your snotty fingers, it’s disgustin’… Just sit down there and watch the telly you useless little brat…
- Don’t call me dad, I am not your father… Where’s your dad then?… I don’t even know who your father is and I bet your mum don’t know it neether… She’d been screwin’ around for years before I met her… Will ya just sit down and watch the bloomin’ telly quietly and let me finish readin’ me comic book.
- What did ya just f…in’ said?… Stop this f…in’ swearin’, a four year old has no f…in’ right to swear like ya does! Honestly where the f… did ya learn these f…in’ four letter words?
- OK, OK I’m not cross with ya, just belt up will ya? I’m not going to wallop ya if you promises to be quiet, but if ya keep on with this racket I’ll shove a hot poker right up your a…! Just watch the bloomin’ telly, it’s edjucational… What?… No, I don’t mind ya askin’ questions if ya ask quietly, I am just p…ed oft with your screamin’.
- What?… Ya mean what’s that on that telly?… Oh, that’s somethin’ to do about fightin’ them bloody terrorists... What’s a terrorist?… Umgh, it’s somethin’ like ya, ya little bastard… OK, OK, don’t start screamin’ again, I’m just kiddin’… Can’t ya take a joke?… Well, a terrorist is a bloomin’ bastard who wants to kill ya, to blow ya up and take your guts for a garter… that sort of thing… and them soldier boys are tryin’ to kill all them terrorists, so that they can’t kill us… What’s that in the soldier’s hand?… that’s a submachine gun; he is shootin’ at them bloody terrorists…
You see, how that one had it… his guts are spillin’ out all over the bleedin’ pavement…. And that?… That soldier is jut tossin’ a grenade at them… you see how the bleedin’ bugger is blown apart?… his legs fell off and the bastard is dyin’, chokin’ in his own blood and vomit… No… not this one… this one is an American soldier, he is one of the good guys, not a terrorist… he is killin’ them bloody terrorists; blowin’ them to bits… Why are his guts hanging out?… well, them murderin’ bastards just shot him with a bazooka, but never you mind, the other good guys will shoot this murderin’ bastard’s head off in a minute, with that cannon from that tank that’s comin’ round the corner… just watch that murderin’ bastard get it right in the belly… splash!… bang!… wham!… I told ya… the f…er is dead!… Why are those kids on fire?… they got in the way of a flamefrower… they shouldn’t have been on the street frowin’ stones at them good guys… T’is what happens to naughty little kids when they don’t listen to grown ups… Now stop pickin’ your nose and bitin’ your finger nails, or I’ll go n’ get one of them flamefrowers to teach ya a lesson…
- What’s that?… Oh, that’s a missile flyin’ at that big buildin’… ya see how it blows it to smithereens?… Why are the little kids lyin’ there bleedin’ on the pavement?… Well, that missile probably missed target n’ hit a private house and the kids were blown apart… but they are just the kids of the bloomin’ enemy, so it’s OK… This is one way of stoppin’ them growin’ up into bloody murderin’ terrorists… them little bloomin’ bastards… they deserve to die… Isn’t this good fun?… You had enough?… Why, it’s just gettin’ really interestin’… watch them planes droppin’ bombs on those buildin’s… Wham!… Spot on!… See all them dead buggers?… They’ll never terrorise us decent peoples again… What you screemin’ now for?… You want to watch somethin’ else?… OK… switch over if you must, but this was real fun… wasn’t it?..
- What’s this?… it’s a football match… why are those people all fightin’ on the pitch? Well, that idiotic, good for nothin’, blind as a bat, useless referee disallowed a goal, when one of them in the blue shirts kicked the one in them yellow shirt in the what'sies… Now the supporters of that team are beatin’ up the other team members, and the referee, and the supporters of the other team are beatin’ the other supporters, and the policemen, and the officials, and they are all havin’ great fun… Come on you boys… kick them bastards… beat them!… beat the livin’ daylight out of them!… That’s the spirit!… What ya mean switch over?… isn’t this good fun?… OK, OK… switch over if ya must and let me finish readin’ me comic book…
- Now what?!… What are those two big men doin’?… they are professional wrestlers and havin’ a fight… What are the other two doin’ holdin’ on to the ropes?… Well, this is a tag-match, don’t you know, and they are waitin’ to have a go… ya see?… That one is in the ring now and twistin’ the ears and the nose of that bloke on the floor, whilst that other big hulk is jumpin’ up and down on his belly… great stuff… ain’t it?… Any moment now that big fat slob will climb through the rope too and will jump on the others and all hell will brake loose… What did I tell ya?!… Just look at that!… Wow!…What a slam!… He is now twistin’ his head and bitin’ his ear while the other guy is pokin’ his finger into his eye… fantastic stuff!… Go on ya yellow bellied coward, beat the bastard!… What ya mean this is dirty fightin’…who cares?… and anyways, what the hell does ya know about fightin’… you’re just a four year old little sod… this is great stuff.. ya can learn a great deal from them guys… Hey!… watch that kick in the balls… Ouch!… That must have hurt him…. Hahahahah!… see him roll on the floor in agony?…isn’t that funny?… it’s bloomin’ hilarious…
-Ya had enough of the telly?… OK then, sit down there and play quietly, with them toy guns and knives whilst I finish watchin’ this fight.
- What?… What’s that?… Umgh… it’s a pretty butterfly that flew in from the garden... Hasn’t it got nice colourin’?… Open the window wide and pull the curtain open, so that it can find it’s way and flutter back out into the garden… Don’t try to catch it you little sod!… Just let it go!… Oh you naughty little swine… put it down… release it instantly!… Oh you murderous little monster!… why the hell did you tear its wings off and kill it?… why hurt and kill a poor little innocent livin’ creature?… I should beat the livin’ daylight out of ya now… you useless little brat!…
© P. J. Oszmann (2004)
