AFORE YE GO
Leaves from the commonplace book of Wallace Arnold `LOVED your piece in the Spec the week before last, Kingsley.' I had managed to corner the King at a literary gathering of the type he and I tend to be Guests of Honour at. 'Eh? Wassat? Who the hell are you?' he replied, employing his standard greeting to me, a joke that goes back yanks, and which we both enjoy.
"Sod the public II",' I reminded him, `Excellent. Said what needs to be said.'
From out of his pocket he pulled an original Amis manuscript, entitled 'Sod the public III'. 'Take it,' he said, 'but only on condition you push off, you silly farting pansy.' Vintage Amis! Chuckling gamely, I pushed off', as it were, original manuscript in hand. And this was how I came to be able to bring you another masterpiece from that delectable pen: SOD THE PUBLIC III FRESH VEGETABLES: This ghastly stuff is foisted on the public by res- taurateurs anxious to impress the Arts Council, probably in hot pursuit of some grant' or other. Where can you get a
decent tinned peach these days? Or a decent bit of Mother's Pride? Oh, no, of course we can't have that — it's far too popular, and might please the public. TROUSERS: In the old days, a pair of trousers was designed to be comfortable to the wearer, but now they always make them too tight.
FLOWERS: Smelly, inedible, no good for anything. The only stuff worse is grass , livid green and often damp. Thinks it bloody owns the countryside.
OTHER PEOPLE: Never say anything of the remotest interest. No doubt they think they are being 'entertaining' or 'adventur- ous' in opening their mouths. Fat lot they know.
MUSIC: The purpose of all music seems to be 'Sod the tone-deaf , just as the purpose of all art seems to be 'Sod the blind'. By playing only for people who can 'appreci- ate' music, musicians are keeping it in the club and tweaking their noses at the general public. And the same goes for composers. SUNSHINE: Another of the lazy buggers In the old days, you could bank on the sun shining all day, regardless of season, but now it's only in the summer months and sometimes not even then. Even when it's willing to bloody shine, the damn thing gets in your eyes, so that it's impossible to read a decent book (or would be, if there were such a thing) without squinting or going indoors.
MIRRORS: Used to be perfectly all right, showing a perfectly decent and engaging young man. Now only show grumpy buf- foons. Yet another example of the sloven- ly, contemptuous attitude for the needs of those it serves.
The list goes on for another 50 pages or more, encompassing virtually every peril of modern life, from the electric light bulb to toothpaste, all polished off with the King's incomparable style and wit. Alas, no more room for them this week, but, even in this minor way, I'm only too delighted to have acted as Kingsley's Bosworth.
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