Back in the Jug Agane (Molesworth) by Geoffrey Willans

By Geoffrey Willans

I want infrequently inform you the esential factor a few soccer i.e. not anyone desire inform me to cast off it. i don't wish it within the first position. Wot is using having a drenched piece of leather-based driven at you? provide me a hadock whenever, at the very least you could devour it.

terrible Nigel Molesworth is again at St Custard's, being tangled up at by means of Grimes and compelled to suffer the great previous footer season. yet regardless of the distractions of hideous Molesworth 2 and weedy fotherington-tomas, he'll nonetheless percentage all his secrets and techniques to passing checks and being a grown up. yet what's this? A solution to be stable? And to luv gurls? is that this the top of the Nigel Molesworth recognized and enjoyed via thousands – or will he be bored through teatime?

Illustrated by way of Ronald Searle

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Additional resources for Back in the Jug Agane (Molesworth)

Sample text

I was astounded to see my thought processes. This practice increased my awareness of my mental noise; I'd turned up the volume on my thoughts that had only been subconscious background Muzak before. I stopped writing, but still the thoughts blared. Maybe Soc could help me with the volume control. I decided to visit him that night. I found him in the garage, steam-cleaning the engine of an old Chevrolet. I was just about to speak when the small, dark-haired figure of a young woman appeared in the doorway.

I stationed myself in a nearby phone booth. Ten minutes passed; twenty minutes. Could I have missed him? My bladder was sending out emergency signals. I had to go in not only find Socrates, but to make use of the facilities. And why not? This was my domain after all, not his. I would make him explain. Still, it would be awkward. Entering the tiled bathroom, I saw no one at first. After finishing my own business, I started to search more carefully. There was no other door, so he still had to be there.

My shift is almost up. " I creaked to my feet and put my arm in the wrong sleeve of my jacket. " "Never too weak for questions, I see. " "'Did I really fly? " I sat down again, heavily. ), and prepared to leave. " "It's a bit complicated. " Socrates yawned and stretched like a cat. As I stumbled out the door I heard Soc's voice behind me. "Sleep well. " "Please, no more surprises," I mumbled, heading for home in a daze. I vaguely remember falling onto my bed. Then blackness. I awoke to the sound of the wind-up clock ticking loudly on the blue chest of drawers.

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