the weekly

Since 1961

I'm eight. My mother waits in line with me
to see The Bulldog Breed.

My father's been in the navy, and also
has owned a bull mastiff: maybe

I'll find out about waves and dogs
with the pin-thin Kia-Ora straw

lodged in my gob. The credits roll
through the soft swirl of tobacco smoke,

drifting towards the rococo ceiling:
behind us the usherettes hush.

******* *

The clumsy child forever knocks away
the family china. He runs

from his mum's retort towards
imaginary cliffs, as gormless as Norman:

he is me, although the route
to a rocket isn't through the ranks.

Imagine being a nonagenarian
and still a prankster -

impossible. The audience applauds
its imaginary hands. I'm eight,

I go home happy, my head tumbling
with skids and scrapes,

ready to be old. There's no catcall
for a perfect pratfall.

Click here for Norman Wisdom's obituary in The Guardian.

Read Bill's 'Bill Posters' blog by clicking here

Since 1961
Norman Wisdom died, aged 95.
7th October 2010


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