Steve Hartley is a sensible man. He has a sensible job, a sensible family, lives in a sensible house and drives a sensible car. But underneath it all, he longs to be silly. There have been occasional forays into silliness: Steve has been a football mascot called Desmond Dragon, and has tasted World Record success himself – taking part in both a mass yodel and a mass yo-yo. But he wanted more, and so his alter ego – Danny Baker Record Breaker – was created. Steve lives in Lancashire with his wife and teenage daughter.
You can find out more about Steve
on his extremely silly website:
www.stevehartley.net
Also by Steve Hartley
DANNY BAKER RECORD BREAKER
The World’s Biggest Bogey
Coming soon
DANNY BAKER RECORD BREAKER
The World’s Loudest Armpit Fart
DANNY BAKER RECORD BREAKER
The World’s Stickiest Earwax
First published 2010 by Macmillan Children’s Books
This electronic edition published 2010 by Macmillan Children’s Books
a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-0-330-52040-9 in Adobe Reader format
ISBN 978-0-330-52039-3 in Adobe Digital Editions format
ISBN 978-0-330-52041-6 in Mobipocket format
Text copyright © Steve Hartley 2010
Illustrations copyright © Kate Pankhurst 2010
The right of Steve Hartley and Kate Pankhurst to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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Contents
The Pain in Spain
Sick-bags
The Girl
The Prawn
Freckles and Jenny-ticks
Silly Sausage
El Periquito
The Kissing Tree
Danny Baker – Record Breaker
The Super-Secret Ingredient
The Pongy Potion
A Wiggle of Worms
Big
A Spot of Bother in the Vegetable Patch
The Worm Wranglers of Creepy-crawly Creek
Ernie Slack
Stinky
Nobby Baker – Rexord Breaker
For Rosie
This is entirely a work of fiction and any resemblance to the real world is purely coincidental.
Sick-bags
To the Keeper of the Records
The Great Big Book of World Records
London
Dear Mr Bibby,
I flew to Spain yesterday and I filled thirteen sick-bags on the flight. Mum says it was all the cola and cheese and pickle sandwiches I had at the airport. She’s right, they always make me barf. That’s why I had them!
Is this even close to breaking the record for filling sick-bags? If it’s not, I’ll try again on the way home. I can eat some paella. That makes me barf even more!
Best wishes
Danny Baker
(Aged nine and a half)
PS We’re here because my dad has been offered a job as the Manager of Real Marisco.
PPS We’re staying at the Hotel La Langosta. It’s posh!
PPPS My best friend Matthew has come too, but I had to count the sick-bags myself. This time, Matt wouldn’t do the maths!
Dear Danny,
Don’t even try for this one! You don’t stand a chance, even if you had cheese and pickle sandwiches and paella!
On a non–stop flight between Paris and Sydney, Marcel Pompidou of Quimper, France, managed to fill 144 standard–sized airline sick–bags. Newspapers spread the rumour that Marcel had four stomachs, like a cow, which was why he was able to produce so much of the stuff.
The largest number of sick–bags filled on a single flight is 390, by the 263 contestants of the Miss Global Warming Beauty Queen Competition. Halfway through a bumpy flight to Bongandanga, they had managed to fill every sick–bag on the plane. They were then forced to be sick into their posh hats and handbags.
Officers from The Great Big Book of World Records went to Bongandanga to measure this extra sick. It filled another 397 sick–bags, making a total of 787.
Enjoy your visit to Spain.
Best wishes
Eric Bibby
Keeper of the Records
PS Why isn’t your dad working for his old club, Walchester United? That would be a dream job, wouldn’t it?
Danny and Matthew hurried through the Hotel La Langosta on their way to the beach. They noticed Danny’s mum and sister Natalie just ahead of them.
‘Hey, Nits,’ called Danny. ‘Fancy a game of football?’
‘As if!’ replied Natalie, scornfully. ‘We’re going shopping.’
‘Shopping!’ complained Danny. ‘That’s all girls think about. If this new baby Mum’s going to have is a girl, I’m coming to live at your house, Matt.’
They stepped from the cool hotel into the ovenlike heat outside.
‘Hot,’ gasped Danny.
‘Cool!’ said Matthew.
The two boys headed for the beach, where the Kids’ Club at the hotel had arranged a game of football.
It was a great match. The sand was hard and flat, and many of the kids who were playing were pretty good.
Danny stood in his goalmouth, watching a girl who looked about his age playing for the other team. She was quick, and she did step-overs and back-heels. Matthew was struggling to mark her and, once, the girl even nutmegged him. Danny could see Matt wasn’t happy.
She had a shot like a cannon. Several times she blasted a fizzer towards Danny’s goal, but Danny was always equal to it.
‘You’re good,’ the girl remarked after Danny had just tipped her diving header around the post.
‘You’re brilliant!’ said Danny.
‘I play striker for Bunbury Bantams. I scored thirty-one goals last season,’ boasted the girl.
‘I saved eighty-seven goals in one game last season!’ replied Danny.
Towards the end of the game, the ball was played low and fast towards the girl. Matthew was close behind her. She went to control the ball, but at the last moment, lifted her foot and let it pass by.
Matthew was completely fooled. The ball sped past him on one side, while the girl slid past him on the other. His legs went in two directions, and he stumbled and landed on his back.
She was through, with only Danny to beat!
Danny moved quickly off his line. The girl glanced up, and shaped to blast a shot. Danny stopped and braced himself to dive, but she didn’t shoot. Instead, she chipped the ball high over Danny’s head.
He was caught off balance, and had to watch it soar through the clear blue sky and loop down into his empty net.
GOAL!
The girl disappeared in a scrum of k
ids as her team mobbed her.
Danny knelt on the sand and stared at the ball nestling in the far corner of his goal.
His goal.
Matthew joined him. ‘That’s the first time anyone’s scored past you for –’ He thought for a moment.
‘Months!’ Danny blurted out.
‘Fourteen months, three weeks, and . . . five days, to be exact.’
Danny and Matthew gazed across the sand as the girl broke away from the throng of kids, did a back somersault, and landed nimbly on her feet.
‘Wow!’ admired Matthew. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘Neither can I,’ admitted Danny. ‘I’d better get practising.’
She trotted over to them. She had the reddest hair and greenest eyes Danny had ever seen.
‘Hiya.’ She grinned. ‘I’m Sally Butterworth. See you later in the pool.’
The Girl
Later that afternoon, Danny and Matthew stood in the shallow end of the hotel pool, playing keepy-uppy headers with a beach ball. They had got to twenty-one, when Sally Butterworth launched herself from the edge of the pool and caught the ball in mid-air, before splashing into the water between the two friends.
‘Hiya,’ spluttered Sally when she surfaced. She was wearing a pair of red goggles and a snorkel. ‘Watch this.’
Sally ducked her head beneath the water and blew a towering spout from the snorkel high into the air.
‘Wow!’ said Danny and Matthew together. It was one of the best super volcanoes they’d ever seen.
‘How high did it go?’ asked Sally.
‘About one and a bit metres,’ replied Danny.
‘My record’s three metres. No one’s beat it at my school. Bet you can’t beat it either.’
‘Bet I can!’ said Danny.
He grabbed his own snorkel from the side of the pool, took a deep breath, then dipped beneath the water and blew out as hard as he could. He heard the spluttering, farty sound and knew he hadn’t done it right.
‘I won!’ cheered Sally. ‘Want a race? I’ve got the Bunbury Belugas Swimming Club record for the Fastest Length of Butterfly Ever.’
‘Do you like trying to break records then?’ asked Danny with a slight tremble in his voice.
‘Yeah. I broke the school squinting record last month. Watch this.’
Sally made her eyes roll to the centre, as though she was looking at something on the end of her nose. Then her right eye drifted across to look away from her. It moved back to the centre, and her left eye slid across to look away. Then it returned to the middle once more.
‘Ace,’ breathed Danny.
‘Cool,’ agreed Matthew.
‘How long did you squint for when you broke the record?’ asked Danny.
‘Nine hours, sixteen minutes and seven seconds,’ answered Sally. ‘It would have been longer, but my mum made me stop.’
Matthew hit the beach-ball high in the air. ‘Fancy playing a game?’
‘Let’s play piggy in the middle,’ replied Sally. She glanced at Matthew. ‘You can be piggy.’
Matthew grumpily took up position in the centre of the shallow end while the other two went to each side. Sally threw the ball high over Matthew’s head. He stretched, but couldn’t catch it. Danny returned it, but again Matthew was too short.
‘Come on,’ called Sally after several minutes. ‘At this rate you’ll break the record for being the piggy in the middle.’
‘I’m fed up with this game,’ replied Matthew. ‘I’m going to the deep end to practise my diving.’
The Prawn
The next morning, Sally Butterworth marched up to Danny and Matthew as they were eating breakfast.
‘Hiya, Dan!’ she called. ‘Hiya, Matt.’
Danny noticed that Sally had a large plaster on her knee.
‘How did you do that?’ he asked.
‘My frisbee got stuck in a tree, so I climbed up to get it. I scraped my knee as I came down. I’m going to have a massive scab in a couple of days.’
‘Ace,’ said Danny.
‘Cool . . .’ agreed Matthew reluctantly.
Sally leaned over and examined Danny’s face.
‘Wow! Where did all those freckles come from?’ she exclaimed. ‘You didn’t have those yesterday.’
‘I always get zillions of freckles when I’ve been in the sun.’
‘Have you ever counted them? It could be a record,’ said Sally.
Danny’s mouth fell open in amazement. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’
‘Because you’re a boy, and boys don’t think of much, my mum says.’ Sally continued to stare at Danny’s face. ‘Would you like me to count them?’
‘Counting’s my job,’ insisted Matthew.
Sally began to count anyway. After a while she said, ‘You know, Danny, we could try to break the world record for the Longest Kiss.’
Danny glanced anxiously at Matthew. ‘Matt, I think you had better do the freckle counting.’
Matthew grabbed Danny and pulled him away. ‘We’ve got to go,’ he told Sally.
‘See you later, Dan,’ she called as the boys raced away.
‘Kissing!’ said Matthew. ‘Gross!’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Danny. ‘Girl-germs! Mega-gross!’
‘Lucky I was there to rescue you. I’ll count your freckles later.’
‘Thanks, Matt. I’ll have more by tonight anyway.’
Just after lunch, Danny and Matthew arrived at El Estadio del Mar, Real Marisco’s home ground, with Danny’s mum, dad and sister, Natalie. A large crowd of fans, all wearing the pale pink shirts of Real Marisco, were waiting to greet their possible new manager and his family. They began to cheer loudly, and a flamenco band struck up a jaunty tune, playing with gusto so they could be heard above the din.
The family smiled and waved to the crowd. An odd movement caught Danny’s eye. He glanced to his left and was horrified to see a six-foot-tall pink sea creature running towards him. The monster’s two long antennae and four of its six outstretched pink legs waggled threateningly.
Before Danny could move or cry out, the creature grabbed him in a fierce, rubbery clinch, and lifted him off the ground. Danny stared into one of its shiny black eyes.
‘Matt –’ gasped Danny. ‘Help!’
Matthew grasped the beast by its feathery, fan-shaped tail.
‘Let go of my mate!’ he yelled, swinging the creature round.
Cameras flashed. The band played on. The crowd cheered even louder. There was a tearing sound, and without warning, the monster’s tail came off in Matthew’s hands.
‘Arrrrgh!’ screamed the sea creature. ‘Mi cola!’
It let go of Danny and turned to face Matthew. In the hole where the tail had been, Danny saw a bottom wearing a pair of tight purple underpants.
The tailless monster held two pink claws over its rear end and scuttled away through the crowd.
Mum laughed. ‘I wish the video camera wasn’t broken,’ she said. ‘I’d have loved to get that on film!’
‘Thanks, Matt,’ said Danny. ‘What was that?’
Danny’s dad was red-faced with laughter.
‘Didn’t I tell you?’ he replied. ‘Real Marisco are known as “Las Gambas”, which means “The Prawns” in Spanish. That was their mascot, Gogo La Gamba.’
Matthew gazed at the giant pink tail he still held in his hands.
‘Their mascot’s a prawn?’ he asked disbelievingly.
‘That’s even worse than Wally the Wall!’ exclaimed Danny.
(Wally the Wall was Walchester United’s mascot. He was a brick wall, with legs.)
A man walked towards them, laughing heartily. He shook Dad’s hand and then kissed Danny’s mum on both cheeks.
Dad turned to the children and introduced the man.
‘Kids, this is Señor Pez, the Director of Real Marisco.’ He leaned over to the boys and whispered, ‘He’s the Boss.’
‘Delighted to meet you!’ said Señor Pez, shaking Danny’s hand.
&nb
sp; He turned to greet Matthew, who was still clutching the prawn’s giant tail.
‘I’m sorry, ’ mumbled Matthew. ‘It just came off in my hand.’ Señor Pez laughed again. ‘Do not be upset, young señor. I hate that stupid prawn.’
He took the tail from Matthew and put it under his arm. Then he kissed Danny’s sister Natalie on the cheek. She blushed a deeper pink than the giant prawn.
‘Señor Baker, Señora Baker, in two weeks’ time, it is Marisco’s annual Festival of Deliverance. In honour of your visit, the town council of Marisco would like your son Danny to be “El Periquito”.’
‘Who’s El Periquito?’ asked Danny.
‘A . . . how do you say it in English? A butterygar?’
Danny frowned. ‘A butterygar?’
Matthew flicked quickly through his English-Spanish dictionary. ‘“Periquito” means budgerigar,’ he whispered to Danny.
Señor Pez smiled, and held his hands as though praying. ‘The butterygar was sent from heaven to save our town from disaster, many, many years ago,’ he explained.
‘What do I have to do?’
‘Dress up as a bird, climb a tall tree, whistle a special tune and collect caterpillars in a bucket.’
‘Ace!’ yelled Danny.
‘Cool!’ agreed Matthew.
Freckles and Jenny – ticks
Hotel La Langosta
Marisco
Spain
Dear Mr Bibby,
It’s me again, Danny. The Hotel La Langosta is Ace. I’ve met a girl called Sally Butterworth, who is brilliant at football and likes breaking records! She’s got double-jointed elbows and she can climb trees and wiggle her ears and squint. What’s the world record for squinting?
The World's Awesomest Air-Barf Page 1