I am often asked to recommend children’s books, especially to adult readers who have problems forming words and prefer to start with very short ones, and then progress to four-letter words.
Well, I have to say that the most impressive piece of children’s literature I’ve read since last Tuesday has got to be ‘The Donuts’, which tells the story of the adventurous life of a talking doughnut. He has a dreadful time; he is required by bullies to devour his own little sister without being able to lick his lips to get rid of the sugar (or pay a forfeit of £20.00), is attacked in a park by a boiled egg, high on crack, and is dunked in a pond of chocolate sauce to determine whether or not he is a witch. It’s not surprising, therefore, that he grows a third arm from the middle of his chest and starts to look like Victoria Beckham.
I read this book for the first time, when it was only in manuscript form, whilst I was on work experience at Poncey Twitt Publishing, back in 1978. I could see very clearly that this work was a metaphor for gang culture which has become all too prevalent in all echelons of society, and I totally ignored the two editors, the junior editor, the secretary and the cleaner who were passing it around whilst trying not to pass too much water – they were laughing that much. In the wrong way.
There is no truth whatsoever in the rumour that this is a piece of vanity publishing by a manager of a small NHS psychiatric unit. None whatsoever, do you hear? No, this is a serious piece of literature, insightful, thoughtful, perceptive … and illustrated profusely with Talent Free cartoons.