mum—’
‘Would be delighted if I were to keep you on here, in a permanent residential capacity. Especially if I were to offer her a reduced rate. As you’ve seen, we have excellent educational and recreational facilities. And you know that your mother has absolute faith in my judgement.’
That bit was true. They did yoga together, and my mum used to speak in awe of Doc Morlock’s ability to hold in her wind, which is apparently a big thing in yoga circles. I didn’t know if the threat had real teeth, or just a mouthful of gums. But I didn’t want to take the chance. I couldn’t stand it much longer in this place.
‘I’ll be good,’ I said. And I think I may have meant it. ‘I beg you, just the cooler—’
‘We’ll see, Dermot, we’ll see. And for your sake, I hope you’re telling the truth. And by the way, we know exactly who helped you to get over the fence. You’ll be pleased, I’m sure, to find out that you’ll all be sharing the same reward for this.’
‘But,’ I said, thinking aloud, ‘what’s to stop me telling everyone about this place when I get back? They’ll close you down. Worse, they’ll—’
‘Love me for it. Imagine the headlines. “Blimp complains of harsh regime in fat camp.” And then they’ll see the before and after photographs. Parents will beg me to take their loathsome couch potatoes. This country is suffering from an epidemic of obesity, in case you hadn’t realized. OK, you’ve taken up quite enough of my time.’
And then Doc Morlock rang a little bell on her desk, and two goonettes came in. I was put in the back of a van with CAMP FITSO: WHERE YOUR DREAMS OF HEALTH COME TRUE! written on the side in jaunty lettering. After a bumpy five-minute ride around the perimeter, I was released back into the hands of my own friendly goons, Badwig and, of course, Boss Skinner, both looking very annoyed at being woken up in the early hours of the morning.
Skinner came very close to me.
‘I hope you like yourself, son,’ he said, in that terrifyingly quiet way of his, ‘because for the next few days you’re all you’ve got.’
Then they marched me to my old cell and kicked me inside. Badwig threw in a thin blanket.
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ he laughed as I squirmed on the bare floor.
And, just as Doc Morlock had said, my friends were in the other cells. I heard a noise like someone slowly strangling a goose, which could only be Igor blowing away at his mouth organ. And from somewhere, the sound of Flo’s tears.
They left us rotting there for the whole of Saturday and Saturday night, and only dragged us out on Sunday evening, which is when I’m writing this. All that time in the cold and the dark, with nothing but those creepy meat carcasses for company, and the sound of the strangled goose, and Flo weeping.
In case you’re wondering, there was a bucket for a toilet. And I’m not even going to talk about how disgusting that was. You’ll have to imagine it. Actually, no, don’t imagine it. Think of something nice. Some flowers or butterflies, that sort of thing.
Twice a day the door opened and a goon brought in a cup of water and a carrot.
I’d have gone mad, I think, if it hadn’t been for one thing. I found it in the pocket of my filthy tracksuit. It had been put there by Tamara as she stumbled into me.
It was a donut.
She had given me the gift of a donut.
Sometimes a donut can be more than just a donut.
It can be a symbol.
And sometimes it’s just a donut.
Was this a symbol donut, or a donut donut?
More confusion.
As a little kid, when there was nothing on the telly I used to sit and watch our washing machine. I was kind of fascinated by the way the clothes and suds all churned around. Well, that’s what the inside of my head was like now. Spinning and churning. But not getting the clothes clean, of course.
If it was a symbol donut, I should probably keep it, because those kinds of donuts don’t come along very often. But then I was
‘Would be delighted if I were to keep you on here, in a permanent residential capacity. Especially if I were to offer her a reduced rate. As you’ve seen, we have excellent educational and recreational facilities. And you know that your mother has absolute faith in my judgement.’
That bit was true. They did yoga together, and my mum used to speak in awe of Doc Morlock’s ability to hold in her wind, which is apparently a big thing in yoga circles. I didn’t know if the threat had real teeth, or just a mouthful of gums. But I didn’t want to take the chance. I couldn’t stand it much longer in this place.
‘I’ll be good,’ I said. And I think I may have meant it. ‘I beg you, just the cooler—’
‘We’ll see, Dermot, we’ll see. And for your sake, I hope you’re telling the truth. And by the way, we know exactly who helped you to get over the fence. You’ll be pleased, I’m sure, to find out that you’ll all be sharing the same reward for this.’
‘But,’ I said, thinking aloud, ‘what’s to stop me telling everyone about this place when I get back? They’ll close you down. Worse, they’ll—’
‘Love me for it. Imagine the headlines. “Blimp complains of harsh regime in fat camp.” And then they’ll see the before and after photographs. Parents will beg me to take their loathsome couch potatoes. This country is suffering from an epidemic of obesity, in case you hadn’t realized. OK, you’ve taken up quite enough of my time.’
And then Doc Morlock rang a little bell on her desk, and two goonettes came in. I was put in the back of a van with CAMP FITSO: WHERE YOUR DREAMS OF HEALTH COME TRUE! written on the side in jaunty lettering. After a bumpy five-minute ride around the perimeter, I was released back into the hands of my own friendly goons, Badwig and, of course, Boss Skinner, both looking very annoyed at being woken up in the early hours of the morning.
Skinner came very close to me.
‘I hope you like yourself, son,’ he said, in that terrifyingly quiet way of his, ‘because for the next few days you’re all you’ve got.’
Then they marched me to my old cell and kicked me inside. Badwig threw in a thin blanket.
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ he laughed as I squirmed on the bare floor.
And, just as Doc Morlock had said, my friends were in the other cells. I heard a noise like someone slowly strangling a goose, which could only be Igor blowing away at his mouth organ. And from somewhere, the sound of Flo’s tears.
They left us rotting there for the whole of Saturday and Saturday night, and only dragged us out on Sunday evening, which is when I’m writing this. All that time in the cold and the dark, with nothing but those creepy meat carcasses for company, and the sound of the strangled goose, and Flo weeping.
In case you’re wondering, there was a bucket for a toilet. And I’m not even going to talk about how disgusting that was. You’ll have to imagine it. Actually, no, don’t imagine it. Think of something nice. Some flowers or butterflies, that sort of thing.
Twice a day the door opened and a goon brought in a cup of water and a carrot.
I’d have gone mad, I think, if it hadn’t been for one thing. I found it in the pocket of my filthy tracksuit. It had been put there by Tamara as she stumbled into me.
It was a donut.
She had given me the gift of a donut.
Sometimes a donut can be more than just a donut.
It can be a symbol.
And sometimes it’s just a donut.
Was this a symbol donut, or a donut donut?
More confusion.
As a little kid, when there was nothing on the telly I used to sit and watch our washing machine. I was kind of fascinated by the way the clothes and suds all churned around. Well, that’s what the inside of my head was like now. Spinning and churning. But not getting the clothes clean, of course.
If it was a symbol donut, I should probably keep it, because those kinds of donuts don’t come along very often. But then I was
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