My Brother Fred

(A Past-Master of the Subtle Art of Wit and Repartee)


Once upon a time a circus came to Newbury, where I live. It was fabulous. There were lions and tigers, and a knife-thrower, and a tightrope, and a lady on a white horse. I had a wonderful time until the interval.

But in the interval a clown came up to me and asked me, "Are you the front end of an ass?"
And I said, "No."

So then he asked me, "Are you the back end of an ass?"
And I said, "No " again.

So then he said, "You must be no end of an ass!"

And everyone burst out laughing, and made me feel ever so small.

When I came out of the circus I was pretty sad about the clown making fun of me and I thought of my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee. I decided to ask Fred, since he's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, what I should have said to the clown.

I got the number 57 bus from the circus to Newtown Road and then I changed to the 32 bus past Wash Common and finally walked down Gypsy Lane to number seventeen, which is the red brick semi-detached house where my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, lives.

When I got there I asked him straight. "Fred," I said, "you're a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, what should I have said to this clown?"

My brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, told me. He said, "Son," he said "you should have told him where he got off."

So I walked back up Gypsy Lane from number seventeen (which is the red brick semi-detached house where my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, lives) to the bus stop and caught a number 32 back past Wash Common to Newtown Road where I caught a number 57 bus and went home.

The next day I remembered what my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, had said to me and I went back to the circus. It was even more fabulous. There were lions and tigers and elephants, and a knife-thrower and a fire eater, and a tightrope and a trampoline, and a lady on a white horse. Again I had a wonderful time until the interval.

But in the interval the same clown came up to me again and asked me, "Are you the front end of an ass?"

He was just standing there on the sawdust of the ring and he wasn't up on anything, so I couldn't tell him to get off, like my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, had told me.

So I just said, "No."

And then he asked me, "Are you the back end of an ass?" and I had to say "No" again.

So then he said, "You must be no end of an ass!"

And everyone burst out laughing, and made me feel ever so small.

I was really upset by the way he'd taken advantage of me. When I came out of the circus I went straight to see my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee. I got the number 57 bus from the circus to Newtown Road and then I changed to the 32 bus past Wash Common and finally walked down Gypsy Lane to number seventeen (which is the red brick semi-detached house where my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, lives).

When I told my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, that the clown wasn't on anything, so I couldn't tell him to get off, he said, "Son, you've no idea. I'll show you."

This made me feel a bit better, so I walked back up Gypsy Lane from number seventeen (which is the red brick semi-detached house where my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, lives) to the bus stop and caught a number 32 back past Wash Common to Newtown Road where I caught a number 57 bus and went home.

The next day I got the number 57 bus to Newtown Road and then I changed to the 32 bus past Wash Common and finally walked down Gypsy Lane to number seventeen (which is the red brick semi-detached house where, you may remember, my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, lives). I said, "Fred," I said "you're a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee and you said you'd show me how to make the clown get off."

So we walked back up Gypsy Lane from number seventeen (which is the red brick semi-detached house where my brother Fred lives, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, as you may remember) to the bus stop and caught a number 32 back past Wash Common to Newtown Road where we caught a number 57 bus and went to the circus. I paid my own fare on the buses, and also paid for my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee.

When we got to the circus I bought myself a ticket and also got one for my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee. It was fantastic. There were lions and tigers and elephants and a bear, and a knife-thrower and a fire eater and a wild man from Borneo, and a tightrope and a trampoline and a trapeze, and a lady on a white horse. I had a wonderful time and so did my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee.

But in the interval the same clown came up again. This time he spoke to my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee.

He asked him, "Are you the front end of an ass?"
And my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, replied, "No."

So then he asked my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee,
"Are you the back end of an ass?"
And my brother Fred, who's a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, had to say, "No" again.

So then he said, "You must be no end of an ass!"

But before everyone could burst out laughing, and make my brother Fred (a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee is Fred) feel ever so small, my brother Fred who is, as I believe I may have mentioned before, a past-master of the subtle art of wit and repartee, turned to the clown and said, "Here, mate! Why don't you fuck off?"


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