“But when it thinks, I feel like vomiting.”
With these words, it is clear that if Nigel Dennis were still around I’d be his groupie. I’d start the FaceBook Club and make mashups on Youtube for him and disguise myself as an editor at Rolling Stone Magazine to obtain his personal email address, which I would then use in ways the word “subterfuge” can only begin to imagine. And when I web-two-dot-ooh’ed the Nigel Dennis article in the Wikipedia and tag it up, the index would indicate that Nigel Dennis writes about obscene bile-spewing puking beasts kept as pets because that’s what people do, and at this, you would join my Nigel Dennis FaceBook Club and we’d all order matching t-shirts. I -know- you would.
You have quite possibly the strangest sense of humor of anyone I have ever encountered. I’m not sure if I should be afraid of it or in love with it.
Hope you’re having a lovely birthday Miette, whereever you are. xx
When “The Pukey” appeared in Punch–about 1952?–I understood it to be about television, the repellent (though eager to please) intruder in the living room, at its worst when instead of merely entertaining it tries to think deep thoughts. I remember people actually still clung to the hope that TV might be a passing fad. That hope now seems as remote as the belief that the Moon might be inhabited by beings like ourselves.
I love this story and teach it in one of my courses. It always evokes strong emotions.