Well, it will not be long now before I am nominated for the Nobel Prize for Literature and I am confident of hearing my name after, “The Winner is…”.
Already I have composed my acceptance speech in which I thank my dead parents for their support, and Bob, Dizzy, Jim, Maloney, Jo my dog, and Great Aunt Gertrude, who was buried with a supply of gin bottles in her coffin, as she requested, bless her, and has ever since been my inspiration and role model to follow! Oh, and of course, thanks to old Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all. Just sing out and I’ll include you on the list if you like.
In preparation for the presentation, I’ve marked in my calendar when to start growing three days of stubble-beard, like the young blokes do and I’ll buy a pair of very tight pants to show off my butt, taking care when I sit down in order not to reduce me to my pre-puberty situation.
Then it only remains to wear an open neck shirt with the three top buttons undone to show my manly chest after I’ve glued on some thick black hair. Then I will become filthy rich at last and place my new-found wealth in some tax-haven country that President Mugabe uses as he knows all about that sort of thing.
How did this all come about? You may well ask. It has happened since our Webmaster, Nick Ogbourne, told me to go to Google, and to type in “John Powell bonzer”. That’s me, without the bonzer bit.
Incredible! There I am; me and my articles floating out there in unlimited cyberspace; circling the moon, available free in all celestial planets and galaxies and read by the crews in UFOs all over the universe—now and forever. No wonder I’ll win the prize for Literature. What fame!
Yes, I know; I am sure you think that I don’t deserve this distinguished award for Literature and the acclamation that will surely follow; I agree, as modesty demands, but really I must admit that it is all thanks to old Nick shoving me into Google. It illustrates very well that it is not what you know but whom you know that matters, doesn’t it?
© John Powell 2010
