I am a snowman, and how annoying is that? I’m supposed to have a jolly smiley face. I’ve got a carrot for a nose, ffs, and I’m freezing.
I’m meant to sit here docilely while children run about and pull faces at me and laugh and squeal and scream, little scamps. God I hate all the noise, why can’t they just be quiet? And screw me (excuse my French, I’d happily go and live in France, but I can’t, it’s too warm) am I really supposed to put up with any more ‘grown ups’ going on and on about the weather? I wish they’d keep well away; one of them has given me a cold.
Anyway, sorry for being negative, I don’t mean to be frosty but think of it from my point of view. I don’t know why I’m here, or why I’m a snowman; I just am. I make the best of it. I like the nighttime; the moon looms, huge and white. The sky is black hole black, it’s beautiful; I’m glad I’m out here, just loving being. But I only get a few days, and then I melt. Now I know that’s sad but I’m not being slushy about it, the point is that it’s f – f – f – annoying.
So I’ve started an appeal. Please. Send me on holiday. Not to Morocco, but thanks for suggesting it. I want to go to Norway. Or Iceland. The shop or the country, I don’t mind, I’d be happy there. I beg you, with twiglet hands. Give generously to the snowman appeal. We have the cryogenic technology. Just pack my head in a box if you like; I can get a new body when I’m there.
People think that because you’re a snowman, you don’t really count. But the thing about a snowman is, he’s only half snow; the other half is man. The lower half, I like to think. So please, just give me a chance to live. That would be really, really, really, cool.
First published as part of The Guardian's National Flash Fiction Day
The story Previously Unpublished Extracts from the Diary of Philip Larkin was the May 2012 Microfiction in Buzz magazine