PLANK....it's a seriously scripted novel is it not?

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PLANK...well had to call it something didn't I just.

This was one serious bit of writing that I had thought of and devised many years ago when I worked for a good friend of mine, Andrew. He had then and still today runs his own fence construction business in our lovely little town. At the time, I helped him out with labouring tasks and so the first of his boys were born... or was it two by then...Mmmm! Could have been on the third by then...memory not that good nowadays...getting old sucks!

As such, it's here in my blogging that I might have slagged off a well-known religious following...but felt that be best left to the Monty's of this world, so all I should say is, "Breed...like bloody rabbits!"

Anyway, I thought would it not be wonderful to write for the babe, or babes, a story and by Jove we based it on a fence panel...what brilliance, every fencer in the land would be rushing to Smith's to snap up the story book, of course personally signed by me, and fully inspired by Andrew's business. We would be raking it in on the old royalties, every son of a fencer would have a toy PLANK in their bedroom, and a "Larry" and a "Henry"...the other two characters within the story, heroes both of them.

...the naming of PLANK...

In our discussion of possible fame...could we get nominated for the Booker Prize...surely the story would be critiqued as seriously scripted novel for young children...hey, Walter, here we come so we thought. We had to create a name, like Board! Eh? Board...bored, boring. What about Woody, no way as if that were likely to become a famous childhood character. So we had it on the tips of our tongues or more than likely embedded in our twisted eccentric minds, PLANK...yep, and so it was, Plank.

Now, whatever a certain sponge has done for y-fronts, then Plank was going to do it as such for nails and feather-edged boarding. It would be a sensation, world changing political statement...what was Mr Marx thinking all those years ago! So with biro in hand and paper ripped out of the receipt book the scenes were sketched out in a matter of ten minutes whilst we sipped our coffee in the van.

Then we set about thinking of the script and managed to come up with about 180 or so words...which sadly took up the rest of the day and possibly the rest of that working week...you see our grasp of good grammar was that she were at home watching a good old Carry On film...not of English or Eton schooling. At least what was written appeared to make sense and when matched with the scene sketching, spoke for itself.  What was one meant to expect, I only had 6 O Levels and was halfway to getting a tutu!

So look at the picture above and what do think the first page would say...didn't wish to lose the interest of the reader at this point. Yes, the first page read as, Plank was a lonely fence panel. He was all tatty and torn. Now, I liked that second sentence, inspired by aggressive football songs on the terraces of Stamford Bridge...great thinking!

So just for you all here is the rest...



One day one of his posts snapped. Crunch! went the post. It made Plank feel very sad.

The drama oh must read the rest...!!!

Now the next page was so inspired by the antics of my friend and his philosophy of staying in business..."kick in the fences when we go pubbing so they all to have to purchase a new one!" Trade secrets you see.

Then on another day a naughty boy kicked Plank very hard and made a hole in him. "Oh dear!" thought Plank

 ££££££...thought Andrew.  

As each day came and went, Plank became the worse for wear. One day the wind howled so much that the nails that fixed Plank together began to come loose.

Plank became so bad that he finally ended up a heap of firewood on the ground. Poor, poor Plank.

So enter the heroes

And so for the heroes...a spade and a hammer, called, called, well what else than as follows:

Then, one day along came Larry the long-handled spade and his friend Henry the hammer. "We will fix you", they said.

Larry busily dug out the old posts while Henry pulled Plank out of the way.

This is now getting into the tear jerking bit...the good Samaritan bit...can you feel the tears of pride running down your cheeks...NO! No, no?

Larry put in some new posts. Henry nailed in new fencing. Then, together they lifted Plank back into place.

Does that not make you feel great, proud, bullish...the bulldog spirit...nah? Oh well at least there is a good ending.

They had fixed him as good as new. Plank was delighted. As the sun shone he felt sturdy and strong. Plank was now indeed very, very happy.

That was, until a bloody big bypass was bulldozed right through Plank. Ha, ha as if in this story...he lived to be rotten, so to speak. Well best clear off and go and treat my fence. Erm? now shall it be light oak or...Plank! I could paint Plank. Just to pee the neighbours off.

So this, or was, my failed attempt to get a book published. This dream, so long ago, was destined to fail as soon as the name Plank was drafted and devised. Shakespeare, Dickens you have nothing on me. Take care folks and God bless