Well in a nutshell, there was a monster who was huge and terrifying.

It took me a wee while to realize that in fact I had just stroked my hoover. Bleary eyed, groggy from the antibiotics that I am still collecting in my upper throat apparently (they honestly won’t go down), it’s also very dark, this is probably why I mistake the black hoover for my hunched up black cat. Still, it did leave me wondering a little, after all, it may be black, but it is not hairy, so to have actually stroked it? Hmmmm…

Last year I used to go into school a couple of mornings a week and read stories to the kids. This year, I am doing the same, only once a week this year, as there’s so much else going on, only it appears that I have been demoted. I am convinced that this is due to the fact that (and those who are my friends on facebook, may remember this story) once last year, when presented with the children’s story, we all sit down, get comfortable, kids hanging off me with noses snottier than frogs in a blender (it was threatening to my health too, this reading stories to kids malarkey), and I begin: “Once upon a time…” Well in a nutshell, there was a monster who was huge and terrifying, only not that terrifying, as he could only eat flies, you see he had a teeny weeny mouth. One day a plastic surgeon opens a clinic in his village, he goes and asks for a bigger mouth, as he gets laughed at for his current mouth. The surgeon makes him promise he will still only eat flies. He duly promises. Astonishingly, one day, the monster breaks his promise; he sneaks out, and devours a teacher and her whole class! (This I am reading the whole time with ‘is this real? Am I really reading this all out loud to 4-year-olds?’ voice on, but I plough on, as I am hoping it maybe gets better, or at least a little less horrifying for the kids. I’m not sure that ‘better’ is the word I would use for the conclusion of the story, as in fact, that very night, after having eaten all these children, the monster gets the most excruciating stomach ache. And, dies. He dies because (and wait till you hear this French author’s children’s story-writing abilities reveal themselves well and truly here with the reason…) when he had a teeny weeny mouth, and just ate flies, he also had, accordingly, a teeny weeny bum hole (oh yes, I am still reading this all to the 4-year-olds, but I can’t help it, I am fascinated, truly, desperate to know why he died, why this book was ever even written, let alone published), as he still had a teeny weeny bum hole (the surgeon had not corrected this) he was incapable of pooing out the remnants of the teacher and her class. The end! Magnificent. I mean, as if? As if you write, publish, or read these kind of things to kids. I fail to see the moral of the story. You are free to enlighten me, if you are any the wiser. 17 of the 23 children I read the story to, have never been back to the Bibliotech (library) since…

Needless to say, the English mummy who spends half her time with her clothes on back-to-front, wafting chicken pooh when she swings by, snorting drugs for breakfast and reading entirely inappropriate books to tiny children. (Please read earlier blogs if you have even the slightest bit of confusion, with reference to my snorting drugs..(it’s not true!)) has been demoted to simply doing the book exchanges now. Yep, no stories, just the book register. Not even allowed to help the kids pick their books, no, not allowed to ‘get involved’ just sign the books out.

I had a brill weekend, but I will have to do a part 2, I think, as I have already used up my quota of your attention spans now with my monster-dying-of-too-small-bum hole-death anecdotes. On that note, I hope your Monday is a very good Monday, in fact, I hope it’s the best you’ve ever had, and I hope too, that you are not eaten by a monster who has just had his mouth fixed… Part 2 tomorrow.