If youth is wasted on the young, life is wasted on the living
I am fortunate that I can remember my very early life.
I remember :
Being tickled – without consent .
Suddenly being lifted up and thrown up to the sky – without consent.
Being dressed – without consent.
Who wants to get dressed?
It’s a pain.
If they’d waited four or five years I would have started dressing myself.
I could probably dress myself even now, if I wanted.
Bounce tickle bounce bounce
For a time they hung me on this thing in the doorway.
A bounce and baby play thing.
It secured me, so I couldn’t move – only bounce.
Up and down,up and down, TICKLE,TICKLE.
Did they ask me? No. They thought it was fun.
I never wanted to bounce up and down. At any point.
NOT BEING ABLE TO SPEAK DOES NOT MEAN CONSENT.
The nearest I could get to an emphatic NO was to shit myself.
TIME FOR SOMEONE TO MAKE A CHANGE.
Massive Heads Moving In
Heads leaning into the pram..
He’s a good boy,yes he is, – tickle – you’re a good boy aren’t you? – tickle
Why don’t they talk to me normally?
Goo,goo goo, with a quick moving arm to the stomach for a tickle.
All the heads peering in at me.
Isn’t he a good boy? Tickle tickle.
Have you been a victim or tickling?
There is no statue of limitations.
Bide your time.
When they least expect it – tickle them back.
Do you have any memories of being tickled when you were younger?
Did you love it as much as me?
Tickling runs in families.
It is said that the tickled become ticklers over time.
That’s how the circle of tickling continues.
Perhaps a light-hearted piece.
Did you know that over-tickling is a thing?
Tickle torture was used by the Han Chinese and the Nazis as well as my Aunt Jeanie.
Sort of being tickled to the point where you can’t speak and the fear builds as you can’t breathe either.
What’s your equivalent to tickling?
Some of you who can read may have agreed that there is no statue of limitations.
Who would build it?