Humor

One Clap Hanging in the Wilderness and Other Stories

As an aspirant writer with rejection issues, I cling to feedback no matter how trite

I never got much attention as a kid.

You’d think now I’m all grown up, I’d be used to it.

Well, Miss Single Clapper, I prefer you didn’t bovver.

Not a spelling mistake. The grammatical term is Th-fronting.

When angry, I adopt a Cockney accent and talk like a gangster girl, drop my aitch’s and allow the words to drip with sarcasm.

Swearing and insults don’t generate the impact I desire if I verbalize them in my educated-at-a-posh-private-school voice.

A lone clap makes me want to barf. This time I’m not Th-fronting. (Though I may run a bath after barfing.)

If I were a concert pianist, silence would be more bearable than the agony of a single, solitary, crappy smack of the palms

I spent years writing that piece of prose — your feeble feedback equates to a slap in the face.

Thank the Gods, Plato said,

“Never discourage anyone who continually makes progress, no matter how slow.”

I embrace his wisdom and turn my back on you.

An unknown user started following me at 0700 this morning.

I discovered that message in my notifications, but when I clicked on it the main landing page appeared.

Have I been hacked?

Do I have a secret admirer?

Was Al Gorithm out partying last night?

Is Huawei spying on me? Or have they done something to Al?

Maybe if I ignore it, it’ll just go away — like a politician or a pandemic.

In late 2019 Prince Andrew followed me on Medium.

Reminds me of my youth when mention of Epstein or Maxwell would conjure up memories of The Beatles, Maxwell’s Silver Hammer and Brian Epstein.

(But the truth will emerge in the sordid story of actors of the same name. I’m delighted they’ve denied bail for Maxwell.)

Back to the story of Prince Andrew following me.

I love playing detective.

If I’d been born earlier, I’m sure Agatha Christie would have based her Miss Marple character on me.

Before rushing to report this dark stranger, my curiosity led me to discover someone resident in New York had created a Facebook account mirroring his profile. Contact details on his genuine FB page included an email address.

I wondered if I should tell the Royals of the duplicity.

Then the story of Prince Andrew and Epstein broke, followed by the BBC interview in November, which confirmed my suspicions.

No way was I going to correspond with such a creepy individual. A Royal pain in the ass.

I blocked and reported him, then put the matter to rest.

I’m more comfortable writing than conducting cyber-crime investigations.

There’s a wonder-filled community of writers and readers here–a global family.

All I ask is that the singletons consider one clap out of a bouquet of fifty doesn’t boost a writer’s morale.

If the essay were an exam paper, that’s a major failure at 2%.

I’d prefer it if you didn’t bovver! Fanks!

The Problem with Cockney Accents

Thank you for reading. And laughing.