World of Willie


I’m going to build a time machine so I can go back to last night and watch Doctor Who again. Doctor Who’s brilliant. He’s like a scientist guy but he’s really clever and is in space or something. He has a scarf that gives him magic powers. I asked my Da how to build a time machine and he said something about studying for a doctorate then apprenticing with Stephen Hawking then biling ma heid. I said if I had a time machine I could go forward and skip all that stuff and he said I should go forward and multiply. I didn’t see how arithmetic would help so I asked my Ma and she said oh aye son if I had a time machine I’d go back ten years and nine months, like it was something she’d thought a lot about. She hasn’t even seen Doctor Who. Suppose I could just play the dvd again.


Got into trouble with the beak because wee Ruthie from down the road wanted to play ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’ You go first, she says, and I went to try and find my winkie, which was difficult because it was cold. But then wee Ruthie started laughing and shouted ‘wee Willie’s winkie!’ and ran away. I went to put it back and it got caught in my zipper. That’s when the beak appeared. I think he thought I was having a fit or something because he looked worried. He looked a lot more worried when he saw ma boaby hanging out. So he says I’m beyond stupid and gives me a hundred lines. I’ve never had lines before. I usually just say the first thing that comes into my head.


Me and Mad Tavish were going to play Japs and Commandos but he said I’d have to be the Japs because he was the Japs last time, which was a total fib by the way. Then he went in a big puff when I said he looked too stupid to be a commando. He said if I was a commando it would have to be the Remedial Division cos I was thick as mince. Ended up I played the Japs just so’s he wouldn’t sulk, cos nobody can sulk like Mad Tavish. He’s like the sulk king. The Incredible Sulk. He could head up the Sulk Division of commandos. So I’m down by the school gates and the sneaky wee bugger must have crept up on me cos next thing was I turned around and we cracked heids. It’s as well I was the Japs cos I went down like one of their motorbikes, the Sack O’ Tatties. But wait till you hear this – he got to take the rest of the day off cos if there’s one thing the teacher hates more than a big sulk, it’s a big sulk with a sore heid. She said we should both learn from this – the only thing likely to happen when we put our heads together was concussion.


Today we had a man from the parliament thing explain what would happen if Scotland becomes an independent country. I thought he was joking. How is that going to work, I says. Where are we going to get our air from? I think the teacher totally fancied him because she said excuse the numpty and asked if anybody had a question that wasn’t totally mental, like she was embarrassed. That’s when Nicola Smarty-pants said I think it’s an excellent idea because the decisions about what happens in Scotland will be taken by the people who care most about it. Whit? If Scotland goes independent, everybody knows all our bridges will fall down because the glue that holds them up was made in England and they want it back.


Last day of school and seeing as we’re ten now it was careers day. When I grow up I want to be a fireman, I says, and the teacher goes aye son you’re bound for glory, so you are. Later on, wee Ruthie said I should start practicing my fireman’s routine and I should get my hose out. Oh no, I said, I’m not falling for that again, even though I knew she was right because I’ve been trying it at home. Then she says I’ll gie ye a dab of my sherbet. Now, I love sherbet. When I grow up I’m going to plant a sherbet tree so I can have sherbet every day for breakfast. Mad Tavish said I should plant the sherbet tree now, so’s when I grow up it’ll be ready, but I don’t see how he’d know unless he has a time machine. I said aye whatever just so he wouldn’t take another puff. Anyway I went looking for my winkie again, then wee Ruthie starts laughing and says ‘wee Willie’s winkie!’ and runs away. Then I got caught in my zipper, the beak appeared and I had to explain about the sherbet tree. Whit a week!

For more on Greg Moodie and his satirical fiction, see Tony Boaks’ Despairing Notes – Easily Mistaken For A Funny Blog. Or follow on Twitter @gregmoodie.

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About Greg Moodie

Greg Moodie is a writer and graphic designer with an impressively ludicrous CV and a poor recollection of anything on it. Technically Dundonian, he says he graduated from the city’s Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art ‘before the invention of fire’ but that, like Vegas, what happened there stayed there.

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