DEAR UNCLE HAIRLIP 

DEAR UNCLE HAIRLIP

DEAR UNCLE HAIR LIP.
WOT I RITE IS WOT I THINK AND I THINK YOU LIVE INSIDE THE BLACKBORED WATING TO GET OUT TO GET ME AND I LEEVE THIS BY THE CHORK DUSTER SO YOU WILL NO I AM ON TO YOU.
REGARDS, MURKY




Dear Murky,

I am writing this from inside the blackboard and it is quite difficult as I am writing it back to front, if you see what I mean.

When you have a dream and there is something nasty in it, that is me.

When you have an irrational fear, it’s me that makes it make sense.

When the teacher smacks your bare bum with the yardstick, it’s me sitting in his brain making him want to do it.

When your body gets out of control and when you do dirty things to it and when the stuff sticks to the sides or comes out too soon too quickly, then it’s me champing at your vital bits, making it all happen.

Sorry, run out of space, where the blackness ends. Make sure this is rubbed off before the others arrive.

Not yours, but mine, Uncle Hairlip.



DEAR UNCLE HAIRLIP,
IT WOOD NOT RUB OFF AS YOU HAD CHORKED IT FROM INSIDE. THE TEACHER GAVE ME A CLOWT FOR USING IN-DELL-ABLE CHORK, HE SED. WOT MADE IT WURSE WAS I DID NOT UNDER STAND WOT HE SED. I DID NOT UNDER STAND YOUR MESSIDGE EEFER. LIFE’S LIKE THAT TO KIDS, AYNT IT. IF YOU WUR EFFER A KID IN THE FURST PLACE. SORRY ABOWT THE SPELLING. WORK MEN TOOK THE OLD BLACKBORED AWAY TODAY. IT WOS NO USE WIF ALL THAT RITING STAYING ON IT.
MURKY.



(published 'Psychopoetica' 1989)

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