Timothy Grimothy - He'd Not Had A Bath All Year!

What's it like to be the filthiest, dirtiest, grimiest boy in the world? As a kid, I had to be more or less cattle-prodded into the bath (We didn't have a shower in the 70's - too posh). It's hard to grasp; I was so averse to a good wash on Sunday evening's before school on Monday.

#WorzelGummidge and #TheIncredibleHulk were over and "That's Life," with #EstherRantzen and #Doc was the final stay-up-late reward; the reward for getting clean and not being the greasy-haired council estate kid to embarrass your mother at school. Was bathing really so bad?

And as for sharing bath water with the family, it's hard to believe now. Never mind bathing in your own dirt, true #recycling in the 70's meant bathing in everyone's barely tepid bathwater, and as the youngest you'd get #lastdip.

Anyhoo, to cut a long story short, I wrote Timothy Grimothy as a tribute to those pre-central-heating, gas-bar-plastic-log times with a shot of #hyperbole and exaggeration for good measure!

More Creative Writing and Poetry Worksheets for Teachers for this dirt, gross out and mud poem for kids can be found on my website. Click here.

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Timothy Grimothy

Timothy Grimothy – grimy and grim

he’d not had a shower all year

and only one bath

he’d had for a laugh

submerged in baked beans and stale beer

Timothy Grimothy – started to reek

his friends wore big pegs on their noses

not choosing a cure

he rolled in manure

which squelched between all of his toeses

Timothy Grimothy – no more friends left

just girlfriend remained - Mudpie Sally

but even she fled

on seeing the spread

of sprouts twisting out of his belly

Timothy Grimothy – crannies and nooks

completely been sealed with the grime

two earfuls of wax

one bum without cracks

a nose jammed with bogeys and slime

Timothy Grimothy – huge ball of filth

the sludge seeping into his blood

then getting much bigger

a J.C.B digger

thought he was a great mound of mud

Timothy Grimothy – Mama screamed “NO!”

ran over to save her poor child

she dug in the dirt

found pieces of shirt

two eyeballs both staring and wild

Timothy Grimothy – crumbled to bits

his mama she reached for the spade

packed him in sacks

and carried him back

to fertilise lilies she’d laid

Timothy Grimothy – nose, lips and all

eternally glad how it ended

decomposing with slugs

and lots of dead bugs

dissolved in the earth as intended

Timothy Grimothy – centuries on

the lilies had died long ago

instead a new breed

of flowery weed

in hundreds of thousands had grown

'The Timothy Grimothy Yucky-Muck Plant'

with eyeballs that stared from each flower

but down they would sink

to the ground and then wink

at even a slight chance of showers

Mark Bird