Rancid Giblet

© 2012 David Jasmin-Green

“Get out of my room, you nuisance! You're always messing with my stuff and poking your nose into other people's business, you pest, you git, you, you rancid bloody giblet!”

“I ain't a rancid bloody giblet.”

“Well you look like a rancid giblet to me. Mum and dad call you a rancid giblet, Mrs. Peters, your teacher, calls you exactly the same thing, and so do all of your friends, but they don't say it to your stupid face 'cos they're sick of hearing you blarting. Shit, even Pinky and Mr. Waggy call you a rancid giblet behind your back.”

“I ain't a nuisance and I ain't a rancid giblet. And Pinkie and Mr. Waggy can't talk - Pinky's a cat and Mr. Waggy's a damned dog. You think I'm stupid, but I ain't! I'm telling mummy what you called me.”

“Fine, run and tell mummy, you titty baby. Tell her whatever you like, then I'll tell her that you just said 'damned'. And maybe I'll tell her who ate the choccies in her bedroom.”

“What choccies? I ain't ate no choccies. You said 'bloody'. And 'shit.'”

“You said 'bloody' too – twice, in fact, and you just said 'shit' when you told me that I said it. Anyway, 'bloody' and 'shit' are OK for adults to say, dad said so, but they're not OK for midgety little kids like you to say.”

“You ain't a nadult, you'm a kid just like me. And I ain't midgety!”

“Well I'm bigger than you, short-arse - you're a pygmy.”

“You said 'arse' as well! I'm telling mum. What's a pigley?”

“Oh, shut your cake-hole, you rancid bloody giblet. And you know exactly what choccies I mean, you little liar - the ones wrapped in fancy gold and silver paper that mum was saving to hang from the Christmas tree, the ones you found at the bottom of her wardrobe when you were nosing around looking for your Christmas prezzies. You picked the foil off those chocolates one by one and gobbled them up, every last one, and you hid the box at the bottom of the bin. I suppose you're hoping that mum won't miss them.....”

“I did not! Oh, please don't tell, Peter. I'll do anything. Anything!”

“Anything at all?”

“Anything at all.”

*************************

“I ain't signin' no confection.”

“It's a confession, not a confection, you divvy. Your writing is rubbish anyway, no one would be able to read it, so instead of signing a confession you'll have to do a spoken one.”

“What d'ya mean?”

“I mean if I say 'You're a rancid bloody giblet, William, what are you?' you have to say 'I'm a rancid bloody giblet.' That's how it works.”

“I ain't doing it!”

“Good, 'cos I was looking forward to telling mum about you eating the choccies, I was looking forward to watching you having a smacked bum and getting sent to bed with no dinner.”

“No! I'll do it, I'll do it.

“Hang on while I, er, press this button.”

“Is that mum's voice recording thingummy?”

“No, it's a radio, I was just turning it off. Right, we'll do it slightly differently. Just repeat what I say.”

“What does 'repeat' mean?”

“It means say exactly what I say. From now..... I, William Kieran Harris.”

“I, William Kieran Harris.”

“Am a rancid giblet.”

“I ain't saying that!”

“OK, I'll just pop downstairs to tell mum that you ate the chocolates.”

“I'm a rancid giblet!”

“That's no good, you twit - you've spoiled it now, so we'll have to start all over again. Right..... I, William Kieran Harris.”

“I, William Kieran Harris.”

“Am a complete, utter and total rancid bloody giblet.”

“That's not fair, you said all I have to do is say 'I'm a rancid giblet.'”

“Every time you interrupt you're making it worse. Just do as you're bloody well told! I, William Kieran Harris.”

“I, William Kieran Harris.”

“Am a spotty, gut-sucking, complete, utter and total rancid bloody giblet.”

“You keep adding bits on!”

“The more you interrupt, the longer your confession will get.”

“OK.....”

“I, William Kieran Harris.”

“I, William Kieran Harris.”

“Am a willy-feeling, spotty, gut-sucking, complete, utter and total rancid bloody giblet.”

“No!”

“Yes!

“I, William Kieran Harris.”

“I, William Kieran Harris.”

“Am a short-arsed, cross-eyed, buck-toothed, sprout-eating, ugly Janet Phillips loving, bum-squeezing, willy-feeling, spotty, gut-sucking, complete, utter and total rancid bloody giblet.”

“I, William Kieran Harris, am not..... any of those things. But Peter Jonathan Harris is!”