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My mum and dad would always refer to 'Mr Nobody' when I'd done or not done something and claimed it wasn't me. 'Where are your school shoes?' 'I don't know, somebody moved them' 'Who moved them, Mr Nobody?' Etc Well Mr Nobody was real. You know that Bosch painting of a Pope sat in his throne? Imagine that, but as a slimey man with glasses in a brown tweed suit. He would wake me some mornings at the end of my bed, emitting a deafening yell. Clearly I was half dreaming, but drat that was some terrifying imagery from a 7 year old brain. Decades later I saw that Bosch painting and was like 'that's him, that's Mr Nobody'.
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Feb 15, 2016 10:02
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| # ¿ May 12, 2024 17:51 |
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