“Thank you, Reverend,” said I.
Reverend Lemuel Shoals was life president of the Poor Writers’ Union. P.W.U was a wonder scan of a chant, so easy to ‘get behind’.
I’d made a papier-mâché effigy for the children’s authors’ wing of the union.
“It doesn’t resemble Madonna in the least.” Mrs. R.F. White opined.
“It represents the bleeding lot of ‘em!” The Reverend barked. (Nuff said).
“PWU!… PWU!”… marched we (some of us in disguise), fruitily and frothily, all the way to the Houses of Parliament.
“Give it some, PWU!”