Plain Mr. Botany (B.)

I was trying as hard as I could to remember some facts about my childhood, and I e-mailed a friend some questions. Diana and I met when we were about 5 years old. We went in different directions in our late teens and I remember vividly a trip back to England in the 70’s when she took me on a tour of Watership Down, or at least the inspiration for it, in her brown Jaguar.


She remembered a lot and sent me some photos. Amazing, isn’t it, how a visual prompt can trigger a flood of memories? I hadn’t seen this photo for sixty years, but I was transported back to St. George’s Church of England Primary School. See our matching sandals (Clarks, I am sure). What you can’t see is that I am the only little girl without plaits (braids in American.) The photo isn’t the clearest, but maybe you can see how my classmates had braids that came down the side of their head and joined the main chunk of hair in a complicated ribbon arrangement. My mother wrapped my hair in rags every night and I came to school in ringlets, No wonder they hid me in the photo. I am third from the right, Diana is on the right.

And what were we doing? Diana indicated we were performing Bad Sir Brian Botany. Didn’t really ring a bell, but a couple of hours later I found myself in Borders and made a bee-line for the A.A. Milne poems. There it was, in Now We Are Six. Everyone knows Winnie the Pooh and is familiar with Christopher Robin, but the poems in this book and When We Were Very Young are really worth reading. James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree was a treasured childhood friend.

What makes this all so remarkable is that four days after I read this poem in Borders probably for the first time in sixty years, my grandson casually picked up a book in his house—and read aloud the saga of Bad Sir Brian Botany.

"Sir Brian had a battleaxe with great big knobs on.
He went among the villagers and blipped them on the head.
On Wednesday and on Saturday,
Especially on the latter day,
He called on all the cottages and this is what he said:

"I am Sir Brian!" (Ting-ling!)
"I am Sir Brian!" (Rat-tat!)
"I am Sir Brian,
"As bold as a lion!
"Take that, and that, and that!"

Sir Brian had a pair of boots with great big spurs on;.
A fighting pair of which he was particularly fond.
On Tuesday and on Friday,
Just to make the street look tidy,
He'd collect the passing villagers and kick them in the pond.

"I am Sir Brian!" (Sper-lash!)
"I am Sir Brian!" (Sper-losh!)
"I am Sir Brian,
"As bold as a Lion!
"Is anyone else for a wash?"

Sir Brian woke one morning and he couldn't find his battleaxe.
He walked into the village in his second pair of boots.
He had gone a hundred paces
When the street was full of faces
And the villagers were round him with ironical salutes.

"You are Sir Brian? My, my.
"You are Sir Brian? Dear, dear.
"You are Sir Brian
"As bold as a lion?
"Delighted to meet you here!"

Sir Brian went a journey and he found a lot of duckweed.
They pulled him out and dried him and they blipped him on the head.
They took him by the breeches
And they hurled him into ditches
And they pushed him under waterfalls and this is what they said:

"You are Sir Brian -- don't laugh!
"You are Sir Brian -- don't cry!
"You are Sir Brian
"As bold as a lion --
"Sir Brian the Lion, goodbye!"

Sir Brian struggled home again and chopped up his battleaxe.
Sir Brian took his fighting boots and threw them in the fire.
He is quite a different person
Now he hasn't got his spurs on,
And he goes about the village as B. Botany, Esquire.

"I am Sir Brian? Oh, no!
"I am Sir Brian? Who's he?
"I haven't any title, I'm Botany;
"Plain Mr. Botany (B.)""

I can never leave well alone. Trying to find the words for a quick cut and paste, I chanced on writers using Sir Brian as models for both Yasser Arafat and Saddam Hussein and an entry in Wikipedia which postulated that the poem is a satire on feudalism and the inspiration for Little Bunny Foo Foo. Come on guys—don’t spoil my newfound childhood memory. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.