Vernon, Petunia & Dudley: The Dursleys

Grant Wood's Privet Drive Gothic.

Based on Grant Wood's American Gothic

Image © 2005 Red Scharlach

* = post-OOP
** = post-HBP

Copyright 2001-2003, 2006 by Cauis Marcius, except Another Temper Tantrum and Dudley Dursley Copyright 2002, 2003 by Gail; Inkum Dinkum Copyright 2004 by Constance Vigilance; I Am Muggle! and 16 Going on 17 Copyright 2004, 2005 by Ginger; Non-Lament for the Dursleys Copyright 2005 by Eric Oppen; Do What Diddy-Diddy Tells You To Do Copyright 2006 by Allemande

To the tune of On The Street Where You Live from Lerner and Loewe's My Fair Lady

THE SCENE: A glorious summer day on Privet Drive. Enter VERNON DURSELY

VERNON
Though I love to be out there selling drills
When I'm homeward bound I feel a more compelling thrill
Once I see that "Four" in brass on our door
Over on Privet Drive where we live

As a member of this community
I indulge my pettiness with sheer impunity
Yes, it's Roald Dahl meets suburban sprawl
Over on Privet Drive where we live

And, oh, that empowering feeling
Just to know Dud will follow my mold
But oh that cowering feeling
If our neighbors should learn where my nephew's enrolled

People stop and stare, sure that bothers me
Whenever they think I might Harry's father be
Hope he'll disappear in a few more years
Privet Drive will rejoice when he leaves.

When Harry Comes Strutting Home

To the tune of When Johnny Comes Marching Home

THE SCENE: 4 Privet Drive, just before the end of the school year. Enter VERNON, PETUNIA and DUDLEY DURSLEY

ALL
When Harry comes strutting home again
Aha! Aha!
We'll give him his grand comeuppance then
Aha! Aha!
It's back to the cupboard beneath the stairs
The locks and bars we shall not spare
'Cause we'll all feel spite
As Harry comes strutting home

DUDLEY
Aunt Marge will dine with us each night
Huzzah! Huzzah!
She'll trash his folks as she gets tight
La la! La la!

VERNON & PETUNIA
It won't be hard to tear him down
When dressed in Dudley's hand-me-downs

ALL
Oh, we'll all feel mean
Once Harry comes strutting home

VERNON & PETUNIA
While Potter totters through his chores
Aha! Aha!
He can't use magic we abhor
Hurrah! Hurrah!
No wands or brooms or owls or spells

DUDLEY
But what if Sirius Black he tells?

ALL (meekly)
Oh, we'll all feel scared
If Harry spills beans at home.

The Dursleys quietly exit, tiptoeing toward King's Cross station

A filk by Ginger to the tune of I Am Woman by Helen Reddy (words and music by Helen Reddy and Ray Burton)

PETUNIA (as a newlywed):
I am Muggle, hear me roar
As I redisinfect the floor.
Though I've scrubbed it once, I'll scrub it once again.
Though for some, housework's a chore,
I do it twice, and my encore
Is to scour the bath and rearrange the den.

CHORUS
Oh, yes, timewise,
Magic's faster, that is plain.
But think about the price:
Those wizards are insane.
Without magic, I can clean anything.
'Monia's strong.
Bleach is invincible.
I am Muggle!

If it's dirty, I will clean it,
Not half-way, but like I mean it,
And I'll polish each tureen and fingerbowl.
Let them have a Leaky Cauldron-
I will polish, scour and scald one.
Just don't stop me now, cuz, man, I'm on a roll!

CHORUS

I am Muggle, watch me go-
See me with my Mop N Glo
As I banish all dust bunnies from the land.
Yes, the Muggle way is slow-
I still have half the house to go,
But in this house, every form of Magic's banned.

CHORUS

repeat and fade

Ginger, who doesn't like Petunia, but allow her to clean my house

A filk by Constance Vigilance to the tune of The Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weenie Yellow Polka-Dot Bikini by Brian Hyland.

The Dursleys have got a new baby
His pictures are up on the wall
He's powdered and diapered but maybe
Mostly looks like a pink basketball

Four, three, two, listen to them cootchie coo!

They call him "Ickle Wickle Cuddly Wuddly Inkum Dinkum Snookum Dudley"
When he's kicking his mum by the door.
Then "Topkin Mopkin Mummers Mudders Winkle Dinkle Popkin Dudders"
When he throws porridge all over the floor.

Petunia's not happy they picked her
To be Harry's surrogate mum
At the zoo there's a boa constrictor
That he sic'ed on her Number One son

Two, three, four, stick around we'll tell you more

They called him "Ickle Wickle Cuddly Wuddly Inkum Dinkum Snookum Dudley"
When he refused to go pick up the mail.
Then "Topkin Mopkin Mummers Mudders Winkle Dinkle Popkin Dudders"
When a half-giant gave him a tail.

When Dudley had grown to a Laddie
On a diet of Junk food and pies
His backside had filled out so flabby
That Smeltings did not have his size.

Four, Six, Eight, Mummy watches Dudley's plate

She serves him Itsy bitsy teeny weenie diet portions of zucchini
No potatoes or sweets on his plate.
But lettuce, turnips, broccolini, now and then a stringy beanie
That's when Dudders began to lose weight.

Now he's vandalizing playgrounds
He pretends to be at tea
He's beating up on children
Gangster pals call him Big D.

From the baby to the bully
He's as bad as he can get
To the juvenile delinquent
And the story ain't done yet.

They called him "Ickle Wickle Cuddly Wuddly Inkum Dinkum Snookum Dudley"
When he feinted outside Number Four.
Then "Topkin Mopkin Mummers Mudders Winkle Dinkle Popkin Dudders"
When he upchucked all over the door.

They'll call him "Ickle Wickle Cuddly Wuddly Inkum Dinkum Snookum Dudley"
When someday he's in front of a judge
Then "Topkin Mopkin Mummers Mudders Winkle Dinkle Popkin Dudders"
Better hope that the name isn't Fudge.

A filk by Ginger to the tune of the same name from The Sound of Music by Rodgers and Hammerstein.

A duet for the Smeltings Wardrobe Person and the Smeltings Nurse: The Smeltings Wardrobe Person speaks to the Smeltings Nurse about Dudley's size.

Reviewing Dudley's measurements, (s)he sings:

SWP:
This lad, my good nurse, has surpassed the gauge
Where knickers are to tight on.
This lad, my dear nurse, has now reached the stage
Where he must start to lighen.

NURSE:
To lighten.

SWP: (looking at chart)
Wrist is 16, going on 17.
Hips are 5 score, I think.
It seem this lad has had just a tad
Too much stuff to eat and drink.

Chest is 60, going on 70.
Waist is an 89.
We are aware his folks must take care
To moniter how they dine.

Totally unprepared are we
To clothe him once again.
There's not a size in stock, as he
Has grown gargantuan.

We need help from his mum and father,
Telling him what to do.
You, good nurse, must write them a letter.
I'll leave that to you.

Musical interlude as theh nurse thinks of a tactful way to word things

NURSE: (writing a letter)
"Re: Your Dudley, Ma'am and Sir Dursley.
His gut needs a reprieve.
No crisps or treats, and lay off the sweets.
It's good for him, I believe.

"Meals are three, not 16 or 17.
Snacktime is at a close.
Lettuce is dandy, but no more candy,
Cel'ry instead of those.

"Totally unprepared are you
To pen a diet plan.
That is why I must write to you
For I know what to ban.

"He needs someone older and wiser
Dishing out his tofu.
I am sure, as his loving parents,
He'll depend on you."

I had to get out the tape measure to get an idea of what numbers to use. NO, I DID NOT USE MY OWN.

A filk by Eric Oppen to the tune of The Roman Centurion's Song by Leslie Fish

Headmistress, I got the word,
The Dursleys all are dead.
They all were slaughtered in their home,
The Dark Mark overhead.
The Weasleys came and broke the news,
They thought that I'd be sad,
But all that I can say is this,
I'm really, really glad!

I've lived with Dursleys ever since
That fatal Halloween
And they could never treat me well,
As baby, child or teen.
They welcomed me like lumps of coal
Beneath their Christmas tree.
And now you folks want me to grieve?
You must be kidding me!

My Uncle Vernon was no kin,
Although he used that name,
The things he did to keep me down
Would bring Death Eaters shame.
Too little food, too many chores,
I slept beneath the stairs,
And now you tell me that he's dead?
Go tell someone who cares!

And Aunt Petunia---what a mess!
Her envy ruled her life.
She hated my mum all her days,
And Dad 'cause Mum's his wife.
She tried to crush the "nonsense" out,
To make me "sane" and dull,
Her goal, I think, was to make me
Much thicker than a troll.

And Cousin Dudley, pig in wig,
A nasty, spoilt brat!
Three feet across, or maybe more,
He was a loathsome prat!
He bullied, stole, and broke his toys,
Tormented me "in play,"
And now he's pushing up the grass?
This is my lucky day!

Hermione thought I would mourn,
They were my family,
But after all they put me through,
I feel I'm really free.
Go send the word to Voldemort
His Death Eaters did well,
And if I see those three again,
I'll know that I'm in Hell!

A filk by Allemande to the tune of Doh Wah Diddy (the Manfred Mann version, of course, because I am an oldie at heart).

HARRY:
There he was just a-waddlin' down the street
Singin' "Do what Diddy-Diddy tells you to do"
Poppin' his trousers and draggin' his feet
Singin' "Do what Diddy-Diddy tells you to do"

He looked dumb (he looked dumb)
He looked wide (he looked wide)
He looked dumb, he looked wide
And I nearly split my side

Before I knew it he was waddlin' next to me
Singin' "Do what Diddy-Diddy tells you to do"
Twistin' my arm just as vicious as can be
Singin' "Do what Diddy-Diddy tells you to do"

We walked on (walked on)
To our door (our door)
We walked on to our door
Then we fought a little more

Oh-oh, I knew I was coming of age
Yes I did, and so I uttered all the spells
I knew at that stage

Now he's a pig in a ridiculous toupee
Squeakin' "Do what Diddy-Diddy tells you to do"
He's so porky and that's how he's gonna stay
Squeakin' "Do what Diddy-Diddy tells you to do"

Well, he's cursed (he's cursed)
He's swine (he's swine)
He's cursed, he's swine
Diddy-dum is in his prime

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