When not composing her much loved symphony in D minor, which she did often and wisely, Fanny Mountjoy-Williams could be found picking up stray boys from the streets of Dungeness. Her mission was to round them up and escort them to school, thus ensuring that they received an education of sorts. Some people mistook Fanny’s activities as being purely altruistic, and seldom suspected that Fanny had an ulterior motive. Few people knew it, but during the early sixties Fanny had been recruited as the International Global Universal Ambassador for Persil soap powder. Fanny took her promotional duties seriously although she was not adverse to mischievous tinkering.
In her role as ambassador, Fanny would locate a random urchin, preferably grubby from playing on the bomb-sites, and then clothe him in a shirt that had been soaked for several months in a solution of 5 parts hydrogen peroxide, 7 parts ammonia, 4 parts baking soda, 9 parts arsenic, and 1 part plutonium [do not try this at home]. This recipe would guarantee that the shirt would glow brilliantly with a blinding whiteness.
As we are all aware, Fanny Mountjoy-Williams was a formidable woman – by the age of twelve she had already written a groundbreaking thesis on high wire acrobatics and aerial fire eating, which in turn led to her being nominated for a Nobel prize in chemistry, so it is of no surprise that other women were easily impressed by her lofty demeanour, and by the luminous urchin that would often accompany her on her jaunts around town. Who could blame these women for peeking into Fanny’s basket and, on seeing the box of Persil, jumping to the wrong conclusion. Thanks to Fanny Mountjoy-Williams and her novel approach to marketing, Boxes of Persil flew off the supermarket shelves, but sadly these new consumers were left dismayed and disappointed because their children refused to glow, they instead remained dismal, dull, and decidedly grim in comparison to Fanny’s urchin.
Not a woman to miss an opportunity, Fanny realised that she could make a pretty penny from selling her secret recipe to laundry obsessed mothers at the school gates. Eventually, due to demand, she formed The Fanny Club, collectively known as The Fannies. They were a large group of discerning women [think Tunbridge Wells] who would meet every other Tuesday for Fanny workshops to discuss folding techniques, and what to do with two large sheets in a high wind. The club motto, which they would recite at the start of all club meetings, was as follows:- Persil washes whiter and it shows, but with a touch of Fanny it really, really glows.
In 1975 the Fannies were disbanded after a member complained that the secret recipe had been the cause of an unsightly rash on her rear. Overuse of baking soda was believed to be the cause.
Originally posted HERE
Also, none of this will make any sense until you watch the Youtube 🙂 And then it’ll make even less sense.
COMING SOON:- Something new!!! Maybe.
Wonky Words 
Fannies and luminous urchins! Jx
PS love the sanctimonious looks those women give each other
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Jon – I know! In the original post I referred to the sanctimonious glances, but it didn’t scan well so I stripped it out as I couldn’t think of a different way of writing it.
Good job this post wasn’t about luminous fannies – could’ve been painful.
Sx
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oh! Those ghastly soap ads. [it’s from these that we get the term “Soap Opera” as the soap companies bought masses of advert time on tv shows.]
I bet Fanny also had those glowing green shot glasses and cream jugs, too.
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Dinah – I didn’t know that – about why soap operas are called soap operas! So thank you.
Everything about Fanny is simply glowing. My guess is that she has dubious connections with Russians.
Sx
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Ooh, I didn’t know that either! Who would have thought that hanging around a Fanny could be so educational?!
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Mr Devine – A fanny is always useful, almost as good as an encyclopaedia.
Sx
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What a very enterprising woman she was. Not a woman to sit around slurping gin. Personally I never used Persil, I preferred Surf. Or I did until one day it produced such a dazzling whiteness in my shirts that I went totally blind for several weeks.
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Nick – The best way to keep your whites white is to keep your washing machine clean. Honestly, life in laundry is an ongoing spin.
Gin? Damn it, that’s where I went wrong. Too much slurping.
Sx
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I have solved all my laundry problems by not purchasing white clothing. My life has been blissful, ever since.
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Ms Mistress – I do so like a white T-shirt, but recently I’ve given in to black and grey marl – these colours are far easier to deal with in the wash, however, I have a white dog.
Sx
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I have a cat with white bits. Every now and then when she looks a bit dingy she disappears for an hour or two and returns looking like an advert for Persil with added plutonium. To be honest I hadn’t expended a great deal of thought on this before, but it now sounds like she’s being abducted periodically and experimented on by a Club member. This is a disturbing development.
Worriedly, B.
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Mr Batarde! My goodness, you have returned! Do not worry about any Fanny members interfering with your cat as they are only permitted to experiment on Victorian urchins (as seen in the 1960s), cotton sheets, and nieces who are self isolating in the attic. Maybe your cat is being periodically abducted by a chalk artist? Or a vintage teacher who still uses a blackboard?
Sx
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I don’t have a single white item of clothing. Problem solved, as the Mistress says. Any old cut-price washing liquid will do.
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Nick – I always use Fairy. I have sensitive skin.
Sx
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My relief is palpable, if that’s the word I’m looking for.
Ah yes, about that niece. Wondering if she’d care to swap your attic for the Plague Turret at Batarde Towers, temporarily of course?
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Mr Batarde – But of course – the more draughty the better for dear Charmaine!
Sx
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Those were the days when the school run was still done by foot.
I doubt that the Fannies’ bleaching is still a thing, thank GOd, but one can not be sure these days when new generations re-discover old mistakes & recycle them.
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Mr Mags – Didn’t they used to use urine to bleach the sheets, back in the day? I hope they don’t recycle that one!
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Piss-on whiteness ?
Opens a new field of research, dearest MsScarlet. I only read some strange Renaissance receipes for bleaching hair. It was no so much “blonde” they were aiming for, but more “reddish”, maybe strawberry, at least when I remember it correctly for 15th century Firenze. But I may be corrected.
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Mr Mags – Are you hinting at GINGER????? GINGER???? Hmmmm. I will deal with you later.
Sx
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*shock* *awe* …whathaveidone … I just came for the Fanny club … *whimpers*…
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Mr Mags – First it was Mr Devine not giving me top billing in the gardening event for my glorious mud photograph, and now this allusion to my hair colouring. You are both on my LIST. You have been listed. Expect this list to be published on my sidebar in the coming week.
Sx
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Oh, dear. Now look what you’ve done, Mago!
I suppose it’s a good job Ms Scarlet has got a wide sideboard…
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Yes, Mr Devine, I have a wide, and very long sideboard. Hmmmm.
Sx
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I won’t say too much about my personal habits but just let me tell you I am currently wearing a fresh white shirt and a pair of sunglasses 🙂
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Mr Ducks – Too much plutonium? Again?
Sx
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I suppose in Welsh it was the Myfanwies Club.
And BTW what was with that alarming red penumbra around the kids who had ReadyBrek?
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Mr Auty – Yes!! Thank you for pointing out that I missed TWO tricks in this post – 1) I should have written it in Welsh, and 2) I should have tied in the ReadyBrek advert!
I glowed as a child from within, I was totally taken in by that ad and wondered why I was still shivering in my Duffle coat.
Sx
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My grandma used to boil her smalls or larges in her case in a large pan on top of the stove, ‘knicker soup’ she used to call it, I can still see her now, skimming away the brown froth with a perforated spoon. Halcyon days.
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Mitzi – If only your grandma had had some plutonium, then the knicker soup would have offered up some glowing froth.
I had an obsession with my mum’s wooden laundry tongs. Halcyon days indeed.
Sx
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Oh, this had me genuinely laughing out loud. Thanks for a good guffaw!
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luminous urchins – was that a boy band in the 1990’s? Best to read this while you are two sheets to the wind.
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Bill – I think I wrote it when I was two sheets to the wind.
Sx
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Ms Scarlet! Have I just seen you perched atop a snow-covered roof top at Mistress Maddie’s?!?
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Mr Devine – I did wonder if it was me!! I think it is. Must have been taken on my tour of Whitby in 1979. Someone lured me up there with a portion of scampi and a promise of some sauce.
Sx
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I’m guessing by the fed-up look that either scampi or the sauce (or both?!?) weren’t forthcoming?
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All sauce and no substanance, Mr Devine.
Sx
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