Nursery Crimes

It has come to my attention, via the rumor mill, the tabloids, and several rousing rounds of “whisper down the lane” (or whatever the kids today call this classic game), that there are “facts” circulating about me that are not only completely without basis in fact but which leave me in a less than flattering light. And although I look fantastic in any light — including, but not limited to, halogen, candle, black, or even fluorescent — I must object to anyone spreading rumors about me that besmirch my good name and the reputation I have worked so hard to maintain after my last bout with some particularly aggressive ne’er-do-wells and rabid paparazzi in the late ’90s. (We all remember the scandal. Don’t make me repeat it.)
So without further fanfare, I’ll just cut to the chase and cut loose five of those misconceptions here on my award-winning world-famous website. To wit:

  1. I never, in response to the question, “If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where’s the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?” answered, “Up his ass, for the time being, and believe me, he’ll be feelin’ it tomorrow, oh yeah!”

  2. The “affair” between me and Georgie Porgie is absolute blatherskite. In fact, I not only did not allow that flush-faced, chubby-cheeked, limp-lipped liar kiss me, but I made him cry by kicking him in the crotch of his short pants. ‘Tis he, friends, and not the girls he kissed, who is the real crybaby.
  3. I did not make a delightful frittata out of Humpty Dumpty and had nothing to do with his unfortunate fall. Someone of his sizeable girth should have known better than to sit so close to the edge.
  4. I did not tell Little Jack Horner that he pulled the plum out of his ass and not out of that pie. (However, I still stand by what I’ve said about where his thumb would occasionally wander.)
  5. I did not have to tell Polly to put the kettle on three times. She exaggerates. And quite frankly, her tea is bitter.

Of course this list is by no means complete. I still take issue with Jack Sprat and that wife of his, the three men in a tub, and Simple Simon, to name a few. Believe me, I’m only getting started.