The Rev Mountjoy, 'Not the Nine O'clock News'
I have to say, and hope that those who know me would agree, that I can safely be described as a good person. No dictator nor despot am I. No amoral maniac. No psycho killer. (Ooo, what is this that this is?) But we all know that evil lurks in the hearts of men and mine is no exception. I would never openly hurt anyone but as a kid, if I got angry, well let's just say you wouldn't like me if I was angry...
Once again it comes back to shyness. I found it hard to share emotions, any emotions and so instead would bottle them up inside me. Of course anything stored under pressure is in danger of exploding and once in a while these pent up emotions would finely flare up. In the playground language of my day this was described as "Having a fruity". Lord only knows why.
Playground sayings have a microcosm all of their own. Sometimes restricted to a single district or even as localised as a single school. I was therefore amazed to learn recently that the expression "Jimmy Reckon" and "Jimmy Hill" (combined with the stroking of the chin) as an expression of disbelief was used almost nationwide in the late seventies and early eighties. I wonder if the saying "Cherub" and the tickling of the other persons chin as an alternative to shouting "Gutted!" ever made it out of my part of Essex?
But I digress...
A bit like David Banner before me I had no control over when I'd turn mean and fruity. There was no Jekyll and Hyde style catalyst to help search for the evil inside myself. Rather it simply happened at the random dropping of the last straw. The red mist could having been growing over a matter of days, until finally I had to lash out. As a result I could easily find myself venting my anger on the wrong person, either because theirs was a relativity inconsequential crime or because they would turn round and beat the sh*t out of me! I could write a whole post on the ill-judged fights I have picked over the years. But the two most evil ventings were not fights at all but rather all out attacks!
My first transgression occurred when I was about four years old. My big sister had her friend Ruth round to play but rather than let me tag along decided they wanted to leave me out - possibly because I was younger or maybe because I was a boy. I probably persisted which pushed the two of them into teasing me. Both were standing just inside her bedroom and saying that I couldn't come in. Before I knew it I had a weapon in my grasp, I could feel its weight as it nestled in my palm. One final taunt and I snapped! Before I could stop myself the missile was away. Granny Weeble flew through the air and struck Ruth smartly on the head!
Now, throwing a Weeble is not to be confused with 'Throwing a wobbly'. For one thing it's far more affective. It would be nice to say that Ruth wobbled and then did fall down, but she didn't. Instead time froze for a moment until broken by Granny Weeble hitting to the floor. This was then closely followed by Ruth's screams of pain and a dash by me to my room. I'm glad to say that Ruth, myself and Granny all lived to play another day and that my punishment was either lenient enough to be forgotten or so traumatic I've locked it deep inside....
The other time I flew into a rage was I few years later while in the Infants at school. One day my best-friend at the time, Richard, told me that I couldn't see the puppet show that some other kids were doing. Why I didn't ignore him and simply walk past I don't know. Instead I argued with him a face-to-face. When this didn't change his mind I took what I saw as being my only other option. I grabbed one of his ears in each hand and bit him squarely on the nose!
Being young our falling out only lasted until the end of the day and I'm guessing he forgave me. We still played together after the event but in the days that followed my crime haunted me in the shape of two straight scabs across the bridge of his nose which stared at me accusingly.
Thankfully my emotions came under control in my teens, mostly due to my discovery of acting which proved to be an excellent outlet emotionally. I successfully exchanged nose biting and Weeble tossing for Berkoff and jazz hands! Now that I'm entering the fifth out of the seven ages of man I have far better control of my inner evil. And if all else fails I can always find release within the confines of my iPhone with the help of numerous Irate Avians...
"Ha! Ha! Ha! (* evil laugh*) Yes! Three stars! Cherub little green piggies! Cherub!"
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