Me Jurinal

A Story by Ron Sanders

The British are coming, the British are coming. The British are here.

Magic has many a source. “Hands across the water” goes the song. Well, I hope our international visitors understand that a warm embrace is the American refrain. So grab your euros and hop on the first plane you find. We’ll be waiting with open arms.

Me Jurinal

Ello, luv.

Thees is the leetl princess ere, an yoo ar reedn me jurinal yoo ar, all aboot me wunnerful speriences in yoor bootiful Newknightd Estates, whare everbody is appy an all the produks is the bes wut money can

Blarst! Thar gos anothr of thees wee felt marky pens. Il ave t dig me up anothr.

Thar we ar, mites! Good as new. Wun thing fer sure, thees eres the land of plenny, sos they givs yoo yoor wants in bunches, lik thees ere marky pens wut cums in the bagful, not seperate-lik, an wuns as good as the last sos yoo can always

Blarst!!! Thar gos anothr! If i gets me ands on thet bleedn

Wel, now! Seems Spider givd me a replasmnt pen, e did, with much apologys i mite ad, an thees wuns gareanteed t rite fer the lif of

Blarst blarst an blarst again! Wutm I supose t do then, rite in me own blood? i oughts t tak thet blightr an

Thar we ar! Found me own lost pen, i did, jes stuk in me purses linin she wer.

So bak to me story.

i cums originaly frum the leetl town of Bladderpool, in mary old England, i duz, jes a stones throe frum Queensfart. Sos thar i wer in me flat watchin the telly wen wut duz i see but Opra Erself (!), an Shes announcin thees grate big ol contest. The jist of it wer thet She wants t no jes wut (an im paeraphasin) the bleedn olyarse manooer it is we Brits sees in thet majikal leetl tike Arry Potter, anyway. Wel it may be a mistery t sum yanks, but ere in the Crown theys no doubtin. An She sez Shel giv the ekwivalint of a thousan pownds t any bloke wutl get up on Er stage an tel the world!

Sos i spent most of me lif savins, i did, an i bot me a plane tikkit fer noo york, the beeg appl as they calls er, coz i intends t jump rite up on Opras stage an resite me very own Arry pome. i figger i gots plenny time t finish it, but eres wut i gots so far:

Arry Potter, Arry Potter,

Droppd is broom but then e cot er

Or sumthin lik thet. Ritin potery is a tuf job, specialy wen all ye gots t work with is Potter.

dotter. rotter. fot er

Spider an Pughly is me 2 bes frends in thees parts. They maks sure i gets the bes deels fer me money, an ar ferevr bizy settn up me apointment with Opra, cuz theys in solid with all the beeg weels in thees town. An they sez im t trust nobody but them. Everwun i arsk tells me thees is sumwhares calld skid row in lost anjeles, not noo york. They sez i mustv took the rong plane, but Spider sez thees is egzakly wut t be lookin out fer.

otter. spotter. plotter.

Its vary emportnt t ave good peepl watchin over yoo wen yoor on yoor own lik thees. Sos both Spider an Pughly constntly trys t talk me into lettin them old onto me money (fer me own sak). As they always reminds me, its safr with them, but i pays bak theyr thotfulnesses by showin them i can andle meself--me quids and me bobs stays in me nikkers, rite whare they blongs.

water. rot er. not er.

Arry Potter, Arry Potter,

Es a Brit, sos e wont totter.

or mebbe sumthin not so redoondant:

Arry Potter, smart as Sherlok.

Is mums a wich, is dads a morlok.

An so ere i am, mites--jes sittin an waitin fer me ontoorage (thets only a jest, deers, Spider an Pughlys me troo frends, not me folloers)--in a leetl turny street betwixt Mission an Mayhem, jes waitin, as i sez, fer the leemozeen wut wil tak me t the Opra stoodio.

Thar aint nobody, luv, wut can mor apresheate a goodly pome than thet wunnerful jeenyus Opra. Why, Shes been ostin sellebratys an roylty evr blessd day on the telly, an so She nos all thar is t no aboot the arts an wutnot. Thet Womn deservs a bleedn nobl priz!

Opra, Opra, chek out Arry.

Thet lad he flys jes lik a farey!

Pughly sez they gots the car, luvs! An ere it cums, ridin prowd down me leetl turny street with me bes mite Spider at the weel! Shes a tad rikkety, t be sure, with a brok winsheeld an rust all ovr--looks mor lik a lorry than a leemo--but Pughly sez we cant be attractin no attenshun on the way--danjerus fer me fans as e puts it.

im climbin in now. Pughlys rite--nobody wil thenk thees bukkit is goin anywhare emportent. ill try t keep ritin as we gos, but i ope all the rakket an exsitemnt wont destrakt me.

Ello, luvs! Look, ere e cums:

Arry Potter with is farey chums!

They’s to many sillabls in thet last wun t be sure, but ifn i rewerks er a tad with the aksent on

Oh, me evvens, thees must be it! Spider is pullin the car up to a dark leetl parkin lot bak of a darkr buildin, e is! It looks a sight, ter be onest, but e sez Opra cant never ave Er big stars cum rite in the frontways, sos cummin in the reer lik thees is all discreet an wutnot.

i do beleev im gettin on the misty side. Steddy on thar, princess! Yoo keeps thet upper lip stiff! i jes opes i looks allrite fer the camras. An now Pughly is gettin the door fer me, bless im, jes lik a reglar gennuman leadn a reglar lady!

Thees is it, luvs!

Cot er, got er, shot er.

Spider is givin me is special marky pen, sos i kin git im the big Os ottygraf meself. im usin it now, addressin the Crown with me left and, i am, whilst speakn american with me rite.

Oh, me luvs! Yoor leetl princess is a leetl queen!

Left foot proper an rite foot prim, an into a dark allway we gos.

Giv me all yoor luv, mites, an il giv yoo all me eart. Fer now ere struts yoor leetl princess with er chin eld igh, swishin an swayin lik bleedn roylty, me jurinal in wun and an me ottygraf pen in the other, dancin prowd on a clowd, rite on into the ϠµĦ₻

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