Gonks and Twonks…

Okay who remembers Gonks? That’s one on the left.

If you are were a child back in the sixties you will. We all made them, Humpty-Dumpty type characters with woollen hair, felt noses and button eyes. You could make a Gonk from anything – your dad’s old check trousers, your mum’s apron, your sister’s favourite pram blanket. They came knitted, felted, sewn and stuck-ed, woolly pom-pom hatted, McGonked, Dai-Gonked, Silly-Sally Gonked.

God knows how many Gonks I made in sewing class back in junior school? Whilst the other boys did woodwork, I made Gonks.

I made Gonks because I hated Mr. Ennis and he hated me. I made Gonks because I’d rather have eaten worms than listen to Mr Ennis tell me I hadn’t sawn straight, had bent my nail, had no aptitude for woodwork at all. I made Gonks because I hated football because Mr. Ennis ‘took’ it, I would have given it up completely if I'd been allowed to because of Mr. Ennis – although up until then I’d quite enjoyed it.

You see – Mr. Ennis was a bastard. So I made Gonks to spite him.

Actually, as it turned out I was pretty good at woodwork, not so good at football, but very good at rugby eventually - but I was also pretty good at making Gonks which made me a Twonk in Mr. Ennis’ eyes.

And I was a Twonk, still am, and I’m proud of it. By the way, that's a twonk on the right.

‘You’re a Gonk making Twonk’ he used to say before putting me in goal.

‘And you are a total bastard.’ I didn’t say as I refused to even attempt to save a ball. Oh well, at least he made me spend my time making something out of nothing rather than playing football which is… well, just nothing.

Yes, I’m a Twonk - I think that I'll go and make a Gonk.