Daniel and Michael asked me to read to them from a book called “Yuck” the other night at bed time.
I have never read a more disgusting book in my life. Yuck is the most repulsive child. I actually started to feel vaguely ill as I read. Picture the scene, Yuck is in his bedroom playing. He goes to the wardrobe and gets out a bag of bogies from which he proceeds to build a castle which he fills with creepy crawlies. As his mother comes upstairs, he quickly hides it under his bed. His mother and sister come into the room. He empties another bag on to the floor filled with dried scabs [lovingly described]. “What are you doing?” asks his mother? “Playing tiddlywinks,” he says and flicks two scabs into his sister’s mouth.
I am foreswearing Yuck. If they want him in future, they can read him themselves. Need I say that they were rolling around the floor laughing as I read this revolting story?
