Open Writing

One day I was in one place and the next I was in another, about ten miles away. I'd been driven there by a crone in a truck which was due for the scrapheap.

After she'd let me out on the gravel she drove off, as if I didn't exist. I kicked gravel all over and shouted abuse after her.

'Goodness me,' said a slim young woman in a white coat, 'what a temper. .. My name is Dr Disley and I am the warden here.'

'Now,' she said as we sat facing each other in her scented office, 'if I ever see you indulging in a tantrum again I'll cut your balls off. Understood?'

'Yes,' I said meekly.

'Yes what?'

'Yes, Dr Disley.'

That's better. .. now after that less than propitious start I have some good news for you. I need an unofficial assistant, so I am appointing you.'

'Oh thanks, Dr Disley,' I said. 'How can I repay you?'

'You can't. . . Now let me explain your duties.'

A week later a new patient arrived. 'Why am I here?' he asked.

'You're here,' I said, 'because you're bloody here.'

Next day he came to me and said, 'Please call me Tod Burnside.'

I glared at him. 'Don't be so stupid,' I said. 'Your name is Kevin Singleton' -at which he ran into a corner, crying, cursing and kicking the wall.

'Very good,' said Dr Disley behind me. 'You were right not to pander to him. Pandering does no good to man, woman, child or beast... I don't even pander to my own grandmother'

I turned round. 'Ah,' I said, 'is she the one who brought me here?'

She glared at me. 'Of course not,' she snapped. 'You don't think I would have an object like that as my grandmother, do you? You silly boy.'

(I was 48 at the time.)