WORM'OLE

Milky's only pal was Wormhole. What a Banana Split ! They went on bike rides together like girls on their ponies, all sat upright and ringing their shiney bells on each corner. Right from the first term in class they'd stand detached at the coach stop, the sole two boys with leather briefcases. They were last to board, seats at the front. We all slung our dufflecoats on the shelf and pushed to the back. Milky and Worm'ole kept their briefcases on their knees like old bags taking their moggies in baskets to the vets. They were first off at college, running to class, so excited to do their fractions.
The Worm'oles went to the Family Methodist Chapel down near the village off-license where he lived. I went round there once. One of those things mums organize when they meet up the shops and waste an entire Sat. morning of their son's lives due to it. You know, go and play with Worm'ole, 'e ain got no-one to play wiv... This was before Milky took him in. You can't tell them why he's got no one to play with. Well, this is the reason why : their little house was the sort they put on the lids of Lego sets, green pebbledash, a front garden 3 steps deep behind a fancy, knee-high wall, crazy paving pink and white, a bay window large enough for two faces and a dog.

Mrs Worm'ole opened the door. Two broken front teeth made her voice phut her words, her tongue landing in the wrong place.

Howdy Thedric. Her'th Thedric, Gwayam.

Bo-Peep Cottage. There had been even a fishtank like a jam jar with minnows and a three-foot high granddad clock. I was virtually as tall as Mrs Worm'ole even then. Full-size Gwayam was at the kitchen table with his model galleon kit in pools of glue all stuck to paper which followed him round the house because Mrs Worm'ole insisted he took my shoes out the back and fetched some felt slippers for me to wear. She'd cut them in one piece from felt underlay and sowed them with waxed string. Gwayam was in a daze.
Well thun ? His ma claimed. Are not you pleathed ? Thedric's come to help glue your thip.

I was given a glass of Lemon Barley water and a chocy digey, unstuck part seven from 49 and stuck it to part six. This was all I could manage against Worm'ole's adonoidal sulks.

Let me do it, I wanna do it, Marm, it's not fair, why'd 'e aff to come an' shove 'is nose in...

Well, I never went round there again. Once, at the coach stop, possibly from guilt, the memory of that Sat. when his galleon probably petrified into a wreck once the glue went hard, he really looked at me and said : watcha Thedric.

Daz gave me a queer look and related : watch yerself, Wormface.

The Cow's Gate Gang frequently held meetings on Milky White. One favorite topic was : What Milky and Worm'ole Do At Bo-Peep Cottage. Skinny reckoned they played snap with those 2 inch long cards you were given in Pullins. Daz said they played tiny travel draughts. Dodge said they played soccer with a marble.

Only a technique to check I claimed.

1/2 the issue with this pair was that there was virtually no chink in their perfection. After we followed Milky down there, a giant box of Scalectrix under his arm. The Worm'oles were stern Methodists too and denied themselves pleasure or anything not considered instructional. No television or electrical games. No cartoon comics, no tea or coffee or lager. All of them went to bed at nine o'clock and Mr Worm'ole got up at 5.30 to work at the dairy. We were lucky that afternoon. The biggest room was obviously downstairs so they set the Scalectrix up in the Parlour. It was full of Bibles and prayer books. We made a decision Mrs Worm'ole was like some of our mums who took it in turns to clean the town soccer team strip after the saturday matches. Mrs Worm'ole must've brought all of the Prayer Books home after the sunday Service to give them a dusting. Well, heathen Milky made tunnels and grandstands out of them while Worm'ole kept going to the door to make sure his mother did not find out .

Milky had a Rolph Harris Stylo-phone too and a Junior Drum Kit. When we sneaked along the cinders path back of Milky's house and heard them jamming, Milky shouting :

No you clot, just go bum, bum-bum...bum, bum-bum. You go bum, I'm going I, you go bum-bum, I go was born, you go bum, I am going under a,bum-bum, star.

It was hardly the victory we sought, but next time at the bus stop Daz said :

We know where you were born, White.

No you do not.

And we all joined in and told him : You were born, under a bum, bum-bum...
He was impervious, just straightened his college tie, pretended to shine his school badge with the back of his hand and looked away. Xmas was a fortnight off, so in a loud voice he says to Worm'ole : when I get my electrical guitar for Yuletide we'll rehearse our concert for the Scouts Xmas Party. It'll be a smash hit and we'll be on Top of The Pops.

The Cow's Gate Gang was going to do much better to get one over Milky White.

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