Close to the edge
Children’s author Nicolas Allen has a surprisingly melancholic view of the world for a man who produces picture books
If farts, bottoms and underpants still make you laugh, then Nicolas Allan’s books are for you. The only thing, though, is that his books, such as the highly-informative Where Willy Went and the hilarious The Queen’s Knickers were written for children. Still, you could always read them to your kids.
I met Nicholas Allan in the library at Nicosia’s Highgate School, where he was wrapping up a week spent with pupils for this year’s writers’ week – an event the school lays on annually. In between signing books for the kids, many of whom (including my son) expressed great interest in his puerile publications, I chatted with Allan about his refusal to get serious.
“I only write them for my own amusement – so I write about knickers and sperm. Making money is an extra,” Allan says matter-of-factly, mentioning soon after that he has become a millionaire as a result of his lavatorial yarns.
Actually, much of his fortune stems not from toilet humour but from his award-winning TV series Hilltop Hospital, a programme aimed at pre-school children featuring a hospital run by animals. Hilltop was so successful it has been screend in 40 countries around the world, and even won Allan a BAFTA.
But it is writing and drawing that Allan loves best. “I’ve always painted. And I used to write radio plays and short stories, but something was always missing. Picture books seemed the best bet,” the 52 year-old writer and illustrator from Brighton explains.
Work-wise, Allan appears to be doing exactly what he wants to. But there is something rather melancholic about this slight man whose translucent skin looks as if it rarely sees the sun. He tells me he used to suffer from anorexia and that he spent long periods of his childhood in hospital receiving treatment for a congenital heart condition. “In the cardiac wards people were dropping dead all the time so I became fascinated by death,” Allan says.
And it is experiences like these that have moulded his irreverent form of humour and story-telling. “When I was a kid I was very nice, polite and good, but I was always doing art that people found offensive,” he explains, adding: “I once built a full-size coffin in woodwork. It won a prize.”
Now Allan says he likes writing books that are “a little close to the edge”. One of his books, First Time, was deemed by some to be a little bit over the edge resulting in it being banned in numerous school libraries across Britain. “It was about me losing my virginity,” Allan says with no perceivable change in his facial expression. I can’t help but giggle.
Although most of his work has been aimed at children, one of Allan’s current projects is a graphic novel for adults in which recalls his “hilarious” experiences at a clinic for sufferers of anorexia – a condition he developed a decade ago. “Meals are so closely guarded because everyone is trying to hide their food. The place was bonkers,” he says. Although Allan says he no longer suffers from anorexia (“They told me my bones were disintegrating, so that got me back”), it is hard to understand why this eight-and-a-half stone man drinks diet coke. Perhaps he likes the taste.
Allan is also looking forward to publishing a new children’s book at Christmas. This one is called Father Christmas Needs a Pee. Allen believes kids like his books because “they like rude too”. But there is also a serious intention to his work in that his books aim to inform children, as well as amuse them. Where Willy Went, for example, is about a human sperm and his struggle to be the one to fertilize the egg. Basically, it’s sex education for infants.
“I wish I’d known these things and I want to tell children the truth. That’s what art is for, showing the truth. But it must be entertaining too. And it’s got to amuse me,” he insists.
Despite not knowing anything about sex as a child, childhood was for Allan happiest part of his life – so far, at least. “I have an acute memory of childhood. After that things seem relatively bland. Nothing is new; nothing surprises me anymore. Life is horribly predictable, especially the end,” he says, giving a glimpse again of the melancholy that lies within.
He adds: “I haven’t really enjoyed life for about 20 years. There’s nothing new. If I didn’t have my books, I don’t know what I’d do”.
