I wish it was my job to be a princess and I wore a big, netted dress and sat on a throne and had six purple cats with ribbons round their necks. They would be my servants and I’d smack them when they were bad. And give them bubble baths in my royal tub and dunk their heads down. That would be when they were good. And when they cried that the soap stung their eyes, I’d say, ‘Do you want another smack?' Then I’d blow-dry their fur into funny styles that made me laugh; and put them into knickerbocker pants and clap my hands and say, ‘Dance, dance.’

I wish that it was my job to say , ‘No, I shan’t,’ and stick my nose up when the maid told me it was time to have my bath.

And my job to set the curtains in the great hall alight. And my job to pull the prime minister’s fake moustache. And my job to sing a song about the dirty chimney sweep boy who loves me but I do not love him. And my job to tear off the wings of all creatures who want to fly; and my job to poke the eyes of all creatures who want to see; and my job to banish any girl who is prettier and smarter than me, with a flick of my wrist, to a very cold place where she will surely die.

Tutor's feedback:

You are enjoying the play of this. That is as it should be. You have felt the push of ph.d-ing and now, like the princess in the bath, you want to say ‘No I shan’t.’ (I love people using shall and shan’t by the way, it’s good to have our language back!) In this piece you are so bad. That, for a writer, is good!