Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
Once upon there was. Upon a time perhaps. There was a family of individual people. The only thing they had in common was they liked to wear large black overcoats and hats – preferably top hats but bowler hats would do if you couldn’t get a top hat that fit.
This family of individual people was made up solely of males as the lady who was the wife and mother was dead. This was an unhappy event however every day the boys would look at a keepsake locket which contained a small, withered, browned at the edges, picture of the lady.
This family of individuals was distinguished by the fact that they were markedly different. The father was of average height, the first born was of a height that could at best be described as “of a small and somewhat miniature stature” and the third individual was what could only be called a “very above average stature”.
One day the two sons had started to argue over which hat was better, a top hat or a bowler, when their father walked in.
“I am the eldest, and if I say bowler hats are more comfortable, then they are. I’ve been around longer, and I know best” he said.
“You may be older, but you know nothing about hats and their wearing, as you’ve worn nowt but a bowler in your short life”, the younger brother replied. It was due to this comment, that the argument escalated, and the brothers became physical, attacking each other with gusto. The elder, wrapped his arms around the younger’s legs and, opening his mouth wide, took a great bite. And because of this, their father finally stepped in and declared “You’ll need to compromise”.
“Compromise!” spluttered the long, tall top hatted brother. “Compromise? I can’t compromise with that little weasel. He bit my kneecap!” and grunting with the effort he dragged himself over to his brother and began batting him about the head with his top hat. Determined to put an end to the nonsense, the father stepped in, shouting, “I said compromise! Not beat the living daylights out of each other”.
That was it, the final straw. The younger brother hoisted the older one under his arm, then shoved him underneath his big black coat. The older sibling squirmed and kicked but he was held fast.
“What are you doing?” screeched the father in horror. “You know he doesn’t like enclosed spaces”.
“I’m sick of this argument and I’m sick of having sore kneecaps” said the younger brother. “I’ve seen a new bespoke milliner has opened down the back alley so I’m taking the little fella there this moment. He’s jolly well getting a top hat fitted TODAY and he will jolly well like it!