M.M.S. Magazine - Summer 1957

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MMS Magazine 1957
John Broadley—The nightingale.
David Carter—Flappers.
Selwyn Clarke—Comic cuts.
Rodney Dransfield—William in trouble.
Keith Fox—Fiddler.
Melvyn Harson—Brainbox.
Robert Hennell—Bob-a-job.
Ian Hinchcliffe:—16 tons.
Alistair Isle—Tar-brush.
Alan Jones—Lightning flash.
Anthony Kay—Pigeon fancier.
Barry Marriott—Professor Thornbush.
Neil O'Donnell—The Irish wonder.
Ian Rawnsley; Fragile; glass with care.
Alan Rayner—Dennis the menace.
Geoffrey Shotton—Brylcream boy.
Graham Swift—Itchy pants.
Michael Sykes—Nursemaid.
Stephen Tarbalt—Cross-country champ.
Stuart Walker—Spider.
Martin Webster—Ginger Tom.
Geoffrey Cockfield—Far away places.
Richard Slaney—Curly.
Susan Armitage—Sioux City Sue.
Kay Blackburn—First aider.
Maureen Brearley—Hightown special.
Katherine Dransfield—High jumper.
Kathryn Hirst—Rose among thorns.
Christine Hutchinson—Prefab, princess.
Sheila Joy—Swivel-stool.
Valerie Lister—Bunny.
Denise North—One terrible twin.
Margaret Roberts—Diamond Lil.
Barbara Ross—P.E. queen.
Carol Saynor—Window smasher.
Hilary Scatchard—Once a chatterbox...
Dorothy Smith—Other terrible twin.
Ann Turner—Copper-top.
Mary Weldrake—Lorry-basher.
Brenda Howells—The new girl.



I arrived at Charing Cross Station breathless. I had about one minute to catch my train. I rushed up to the Ticket Office. “A one-and-ninepenny to Hitchin, please." The old clerk gave me a steady look and said, “There ain't no place called Kitchen." I drew a deep breath and spelt it for him. Once on the platform I was greeted by the announcer saying, “The train now standing at platform three is for Hitchin, calling at . . ." but I didn't listen to any more. I streaked down the platform, flung open the nearest door and leaped. I managed to scramble into the carriage and I sat down panting heavily, as that hundred yards sprint had com­pletely winded me. As soon as I regained my breath, I glanced round the compartment to see what specimens of human beings I had put myself with. At the far end of the compartment sat a jovial looking old man who was sleeping. I think he was dreaming about the farmyard because every now and then he would give a hideous snore.

Next to him sat a lady with a mischievous looking boy. He was sucking a lollipop. Every now and then he scrambled on to the seat and waved it about like an Indian doing a war dance. He did that once too often—it flew off the end of the stick. When I handed it back to him he insisted upon me having a suck. His mother interrupted saying, “Give over, Sydney." I told her it was all right but all the time I'd have liked to knock his head off.

The train pulled into a station and I heard the porter call Hitchin. I at once leapt up and rushed out but a youth tripped me up and the contents of my brief case scattered. I went sprawling on to the platform.  I made a hurried retreat from the platform.



I picked a little daffodil,
Bright and small,
I got it from a garden
Surrounded by a wall.

When I took it home,
Its head went slowly down,
So I put it in some water,
Now it hasn't got a frown.

It lived for one whole week,
Then it started to die,
It shrivelled up so tiny,
That I began to cry.

Then I said to myself,
“Why should I cry,
I don't want a daffodil
That's brown and dry."



One day I was riding in the car with my father. I heard a squeak under the car seat when we were turning into the country garage. When my father opened the car door out jumped our dog. He ran through the fence into the woods at the back of the garage. To get into the woods you have to go round and through the gate. While father was searching the wood a grey squirrel ran up a tree. Before father had found the dog the gamekeeper came on the scene. Misunderstanding my father's presence in the wood he threatened to summons him for poaching. After a lot of explaining my father got Justice in the end.



Miss C.—If I had a needle and thread.
D.E.—The Great Pretender.
Mr. C.—All the nice girls love a sailor.
Mr. B.—When you walk in the garden.
Miss C.—Baby, she's got it.
Mr. Besly—Give me that old time religion.
Mr. B.—Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye.
Mr. R.—Where will the dimple be.
Mrs. B.—Lonely Ballerina.
Miss M.—Wouldn't anybody like to meet a sweet old-fashioned girl.
Mrs. P.—Got to take a cold, cold shower.
Mr. H.—The day that Liberace winked at me.
Mr. K.—Rock with the cave man.
Mrs. W.—Get in that kitchen and rattle those pots and pans.
M.G.—I don't care.
Mr. B.—Chantez, chan'ez, sing a little Paris song.
Mr. H.—Don't be cruel.
Mr. M.—Love and marriage.
Mr. S.—Land of my fathers.
Mr. W.H.H.—Shake, rattle and roll.
Mr. D.—Don't ringa da bell.
Mr. C.S.—Fire down below.



At half-past seven the boxing booth opened to the crowds. The spectators swarmed in and at ten to eight Eddie, our manager, called for challengers. I perceived a big loutish man in evening dress place a -bet and beckon to one of his roughneck cronies, who with an evil ugly chuckle joined the line with the others. It was obvious the pair were up to mischief. The first bout began with our man winning by a technical knockout in the third round. But the challenger received two pounds. The system for the prizes is, the challenger wins one pound for every round he wins, and five pounds extra for a win.

Eventually my turn to fight came and I was drawn against the big loutish man's roughneck, and his boss was to act as second. I was bandaged and had my gloves inspected by the referee. This process is according to the rules and was repeated on my opponent.

The bell sounded, we touched gloves, the crowd went tensely quiet, the air clammy with suspense, for without striking me a single blow my opponent was sprawled motionless on his back. His eyes bore a terrified expression; his face appeared as if he had gone through a torturous ordeal. The booth was slightly hushed and tensely still, as if the place as a whole was paralysed.

The deathly silent stillness was broken by a melancholy movement by a gentleman in the audience who clambered with an air of anxiety into the ring. After a swift examination he announced in a surprised tone that he was dead. The protesting crowd were hustled out, and immediately the police were phoned. They deduced with the help of the surgeon that he had received a deadly poisonous injection.

A thorough questioning and investigating by undercover policemen started. After working on every clue they then found the culprit. My thoughts travelled back to the opening of the bout where I observed a bet placed. The motive was money. Evidently the gentleman whom the man in evening dress had placed a bet against had put a bet on me later in the evening and had learned that my opponent by profession was a boxer. Having realised that his chances of winning were slight he took the only way out.

D. WALKER, 41.



And lo! the great festival of Kriss-mus did enter the last days and the time drew nigh when the tribe of Kit-sunill was to return to the temple. Great were the la-men-tashuns of the child-run for it seemed many moons to the great festival of Ee-stir.

But the heart of a certain dark-eyed damsel in the Therde-yer was exceeding heavy, for had not one Cor-thra departed unto another seat of learning—yea, even unto Ek-mon-wyk.

And the sun arose on the Furst-day-bak and from far off parts came the child-run of the distant tribes—from Op-tun, Naw-thawp, Arts-ed, yea even from Eetarn did they come and the hearts of the prophets who dwelt in the chamber above the Great One were heavy as they viewed their coming up the dryve. And the custodian of the bell did thrice sound the mighty alarum, summoning the hordes and the wielders of Chork into battle.

Now it came to pass that the time for Eggs-am-in-ashuns drew nigh and the Furst-yer did wonder what trials they would have to bear and they were greatly afraid. Indeed many of the child-run did greatly fear the outcome of these trials and on the appointed day certain of them did send messages to the temple, complaining mightily of divers ailments—ere-ake, ed-ake, tuth-ake and art-ake to mention but few, and lo their presence was sorely missed. But the Great One did issue a cunning proc-lam-ashun and when the in-va-lids did return after the appointed three days—all cured in miraculous fashion—they found to their dismay that the tests of skill awaited them. Then did the lesser chiefs burn much midnight oil in mar-king the parchments of the young ones and many were the crosses inscribed upon them as a sign of their great affec-shun for the child-run.

Now it did come to pass that the time for the great Owse-Bok-sing tournament did draw nigh. And the great Kuk, the chief of Pee-ee, the lesser chief who did scorn the wielding of Chork and the use of Blak-bawds, did summon together all the boiz of the tribe. Then did he tell them of his wonderful plans, how that every­one would take part for the honour of their great Owses and how he would instruct them in the cunning arts of Bok-sing. And lo, by strange chance the divers ailments, ere-ake, ed-ake, tuth-ake and art-ake began to afflict the boiz and many did stay in their tents. And lo, on the day appointed for Bok-sing Fi-nuls, they that had been sick were wondrously restored and returned to the temple. And the hearts of the chiefs were glad, for they liked not to be parted from their loved ones.

Now did the Great One, the Chief of chiefs, issue a decree that the four great Owses of the tribe, Be-ree, Blak-burn, Thaun-ton and Ar-dee, should prepare divers amusements for the child-run of the tribe and their elders. And the hearts of Ken-yun, master of fig-ers, In-kins, master of f act-ree hands, Ay-kok, the chief minstrel, and Dor-mande, the chief scribe, were sad with-in them for they did know that they were to make ready the Owse-plaiz. But at the appointed time, great was their pride in their child-run, for nobly did they perform, yea, even A-rop, Rayth-bee, Kris-teen and Nee-na, but special honours were bestowed upon Smythe, the fair one, and Ma-leen, the dark one. And lo, Thaun-ton Owse did prevail in this great festival for right well did they perform the wondrous story of the Olde Bull.

And it came to pass that on the furst day of the fifth moon, it happened that there be-fell the Annie-ver-sree of the beginning of the Temple. And lo, the chief om-rekker did cause to be made a wondrous cake, and the cake was made by the fair hands of one Ma-ree who did perform nobly at the u-venns. But lo, the wondrous cake lasted not until the second day of the fifth moon, for at the celebration in the chamber of buks, the pre-feks did partake of this great offering and did also consume vast amounts of mil-kee cof-fee, for as one Seele did darkly mutter, "Let us eat and drink and be merry, for tomorrow we are back on skule-dinners."

But now is come the festival of Pentecost and the children of the tribe make ready to return to their own tents. And great is the weeping in the Temple, for the lesser chiefs like not to be parted from their loved ones, the boiz and maidens of the tribe.

Your scribe,



I am a nursing cadet belonging to the St. John Ambulance. We meet every Tuesday night at 6-30 and pay a subscription of 2d. per week. We learn First Aid, Home Nursing and Drill. Some of the time we practice for team tests ready for when we go in for a competition on first aid and home nursing to compete against other teams to try and win a cup. We each have a uniform consisting of a grey frock with a belt round, a beret with a pom-pom on the top, white collar and cuffs and a white headsquare. In our division we have four corporals and two sergeants. I am a corporal. We have to try and pass certificates, three each year. At the present moment we are taking Sea and Boat Training with the Sea Cadets at Ravensthorpe.




We were met by Mrs. Marsden, the Hospital Superintendent. After talking to her for a few minutes, she showed us Ward 1. All the animals, mostly dogs, had tumours. Then we went to Ward 2 where there again the dogs had tumours. We asked a few questions and the kennel maid told us that there were five on the staff, three stable maids, an ambulance driver and the hospital superintendent. We asked her what would it feel like to put an animal to sleep, meaning to kill it. She said the animal may be suffering with pain, it may be aged, or it may not be wanted.

Then we went to the operating theatre. There we saw the X-ray equipment, and the operating table. An animal can have two types of anaesthetic; one that is used for major operations, and only lasts a few hours, another one that lasts for about twenty-four hours. On the operating table there was an electric blanket. This keeps the animal warm. Then we were shown some huge stones which had been taken out of certain animals. We then went to see the animal ambulance. There were two kennels for dogs and two for cats. She told us the Society had suffered a loss of £2,000 last year. The P.D.S.A. relies on what people give as a sort of subscription. They don't charge for treating animals. Then we went to see a new out-patients' clinic. There was a waiting room, a surgery, and a dispensary.  I think that they are doing a very fine piece of work.



" We'd better or we're here for the duration,"
I said as we reached the great big Station.
We got on the train,
It began to rain,
We took a seat,
And tried to beat
One another to the racks
With our very wettish macs.
The train moved out,
All began to shout,
"Good day," "Good day," "Good day,"
"Have a lovely holiday."
We soon bedded down,
Till we reached the seaside town,
And we jumped from the train,
It was on its way again.
As we watched the smoky funnel,
The train entered in a tunnel,
And now no more is seen.
What a ride it all had been.


A quarrel is a very small fight.
The youngest children were fed on enamel plates.
The capital of England is E.