Roald Dahl Funny Prize - Michael Rosen's Speech

This prize came about as a result of a light-bulb moment. I think I was on a train. It must have been a train because that's where I live these days. I was thinking about sitting as a judge for the Guardian Children's Fiction prize and how for each year I did it, the funniest book of the year, got edged out.  I don't know if she'll forgive me (not that it was my fault alone), but that's why Anne Fine didn't win that year. Oh that's let the cat out the bag, these things are supposed to be secret.

Anyway, I approached the Laureate committee, we all approached Booktrust, we then approached (there's a lot of approaching going on here, isn't there?) and the Roald Dahl Estate and - berdoing!!! -that's what the Roald Dahl estate said  - we had a prize, well two prizes in fact and the shortlists were announced in the week of Roald Dahl Day.

Humour is no laughing matter.  This prize is of course a 'cunning plan'. We are deadly serious about trying to get every child reading and enjoying books. So the prizes, the shortlists, the fanfares, the balloons (oh we haven't got balloons, they said the budget was tight) is all about encouraging children to read, families to read together, schools to be filled with laughter instead of SATs (oh that would creep in wouldn't it?) and to reward and encourage authors and illustrators to produce funnier and funnier books.

The judging took place one early morning in a café in Charlotte Street. We sat strangely near to each other in a room with a lot of mirrors. There was Kaye Umansky, cackling louder than a kookaburra. There was the frighteningly thoughtful Chris Riddell. There was Dara O'Briain who Kaye thought was there in order to sign his autograph for her daughter. And there was Sophie Dahl to remind us that the best way to decide if a book is funny is to work out if it's funny or not.

It was painful. It was arduous. It was tortuous (largely thanks to me for working out some cumbersome system or other of canvassing views. What a strange thing to do with views...'canvas' them. Make note: do 'canvassing' on Word of Mouth next week. )  It went on so long, Dara fell asleep and talking of falling, he fell landed on his croissant. Nasty. Kaye went for a jog round the block and came back with several geese. Chris started drawing dragons (they're for sale outside) and Sophie said that we should think about whether the book is funny or not. 

We noticed that this year, funny books had several themes: they were dinosaurs, pirates and underpants. So far, no one had a book with all three but that's a challenge for writers and illustrators to take up next year. Captain Diplodocus sails the Jolly Velociraptor through primeval slime, until the dastardly Cutthroat Stegosaurus steals his underpants. I think I'll go in for this prize next year. Can you be a judge and win it? Well, those are next year's rules, OK?

Well, look, thanks to Dara who, you may not know, has a ruthless streak about him, our deliberations were cut short. Ow!  Whenever we dithered, he slashed our dithers to bits. Whenever we procrastinated, he asked us if we knew what procrastination meant. I said it was something to do with whether you go to heaven or not. And from some deep pool of knowing, Dara said, oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. no....Kaye got the autograph. Chris got some more coffee and Sophie said that we should think about whether the book is funny or not.