TALES TOLD WITH LAUGHTER
THE BOY AND THE BRIEFCASE AND THE MOOSE
Two briefcases arrive at a humble secondary school, accompanied by two boys from a posh private school. Tasked with showing them how the other half lives are three pupils: Josephine, Winston and Andrew. They have to guide these newbies through the madness, mischief, and miscreants of their new school… without incident. FAT CHANCE
A briefcase goes missing. They have to get it back. What’s worse is, they know who’s got it.
A GIRL'S REPUTATION
Andy wants sex and Mandy wants sex, but not with each other, so why does everyone think that they do?
Andy is in love with Karen; Karen is in love with Andy, so why is he sharing a bedroom with Mandy?
Andy and Mandy are trapped. Can they escape with their reputations intact? It will take all their friends and a lot of ingenuity to dig them out of this one.
TOP TRUMPS
(Working title)
School is over and everyone is heading to the South of France in two minibuses, for the holiday of a lifetime. Will they get there? Even I don’t know yet.
Photo by Ferla Paola Photography
ANDREW BATTY
I’m a son, a husband, a father, an Architect, an author, a collection of memories, and a bag of bones and mushy bits. Born in 1963 in a small village in Warwickshire, I attended a secondary school in Rugby, before moving to the Sheffield area and on to University in Manchester and life as an Architect
I started The Boy and the Briefcase and the Moose in October 2019 and soon found conditions perfect for writing, if little else, as the pandemic swept the country. I had no idea if the story would be a comedy, tragedy, thriller or romance. It slowly evolved into a combination of all four.
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A Girl's Reputation emerged in 2023, and was going to be a jolly holiday adventure, but Andy and Mandy soon got into deep waters, and the story veered off in another direction. It has the easy humour of 'The Boy and the Briefcase and the Moose,' with plenty of nail-biting peril, laced with the thorny subjects of 'lust' and 'love.'
Top Trumps (working title) has just started its troubled journey across the page and down to the South of France. Will it survive the bumpy road that lies ahead, or will it veer off in another direction... who knows.
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Contact: andrewbattyauthor@gmail.com
POEMS
ORPHEUS LEADS EURYDICE
(Another take on a tragedy)
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Orpheus leads Eurydice
Through dark as black as ebony,
A speck of light their destiny.
She yearns to be set free.
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No blood, no breath, no chemistry
No trace of her vivacity.
A phantom or a fantasy?
She yearns to be set free.
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Her silken feet step solemnly
Her silver lips pray silently
Her limpid eyes gaze longingly
She yearns to be set free
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He sees her in his memory,
She leads him through their history,
From first kiss to fatality.
She yearns to be set free.
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They met she teased so playfully.
They laughed and loved so joyfully.
She gave herself completely.
She yearns to be set free.
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He held her close so jealously.
He watched her moves so carefully.
He punished her so ruthlessly.
And each and every injury,
Cut into her vitality,
Till all he left was misery.
She yearns to be set free.
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He sees the snake so vividly.
He sees her reach so purposely.
She takes the bite so willingly.
She yearns to be set free.
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He weeps for all his cruelty.
He weeps for all her agony.
He weeps for his humanity.
He turns and sets her free.
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POEMS
FLEDGLING
(For my mother)
I was a fledgling on the ledge,
Clinging tightly to the edge,
Wondering as I looked down'
Will I fly or hit the ground.
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Mummy bird said don't you fret,
Pretend you are a Jumbo Jet,
Or a big hot air balloon,
Floating up towards the moon.
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A flying pig with hairy knees,
An autumn leaf upon the breeze,
A fluffy cloud up in the sky,
Or a comet zooming by.
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But mum these are the strangest things.
Surely I should flap my wings.
Flap them very, very fast,
Leap off the ledge and fly at last.
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Son, It's good to have a dream,
To go where we have never been,
But flying is a crazy whim,
We are penguins, and penguins swim.
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POEMS
GREEN BANANAS
(For Julian)
Doc
I'm a gonna, I'm sinking fast,
My ship's goin down and I'm tied to the mast
A siren whispers as I slip past
"Your very next breath could be your last."
Tell me Doc.
Is there still time for walking with llamas?
And is it worth buying green bananas?
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Doc
Death is waiting beside my bed,
Cloak so black, eyes so red,
Shadow and bone, body and head,
A silver scythe to reap the dead.
Tell me Doc.
Is it worth changing out of pyjamas?
And should I bother with green bananas?
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Doc.
I'm a crossin the river Styx.
Dark waters lap around my skiff.
The oars pull, then lift and switch,
As in the mist we roll and pitch.
Tell me Doc.
Should I skip dolphins and swim with piranhas,
And cancel my order for green bananas?
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Doc.
I'm a knockin at heaven's door.
St. Peter's there, he checks my score.
So up or down? I'm level four.
Above the pope. below John Thaw.
Tell me Doc.
Can I still say, manana, manana,
And hasta la vista, green banana?
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Sir,
You take charge, don't trust in fate.
Live your life, cos life won't wait.
And soon you will be feeling great,
So forget about your sell by date.
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Be bold, be brave, and dare to dream.
Buy bananas and buy them green.
They'll yellow on the window sill,
just leave them to us in your will.
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