went Ortrud.
‘No,’ said Russell.
‘YES!’ shouted Mickey Thompson, leaping up. ‘IT MEANS MR BULLERTON!’
‘EXACTLY!’ shouted Purvis.
‘MR BULLERTON!’ shouted Mickey Thompson, around. ‘MR BULLERTON! MR…’
‘One moment,’ said Russell, holding up a finger. ‘I thought the roast potato man was Mr Bullerton.’
‘No,’ said Purvis. ‘He’s Howard.’
‘Howard Bullerton,’ said Russell.
‘Howard Armitage,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘I’m confused,’ said Russell. ‘If Mr Roast Potato is really a Mr Armitage and not a Mr Bullerton, why was JB Undercracker calling him Mr Bullerton and not Mr Armitage?’
‘Because she’s confused too,’ said Purvis. ‘You see Mr Bullerton’s Mr Roast, I mean Howard’s horrible boss and he sent us here to say he’ll be the Guest of Honour, but JB Undercracker’s never met him and now she thinks he’s Howard.’ Purvis took a breath. ‘Or Howard’s him, and when he finds out about all the mess and the lunch inspecting and everything he’ll be furious and shout at Howard even though it isn’t Howard’s fault, and he’ll be here soon so we need to help but we haven’t even started making the appropriate arrangements.’ Purvis sat down, puffing.
‘What appropriate arrangements?’ said Russell.
‘The usual things for a Guest of Honour,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘Those being?’ said Russell.
‘Plinths, cordials, etc,’ chorused the mice.
‘Oh,’ said Russell. ‘Those.’
‘Err, Russell?’ said Purvis. ‘What exactly are plinths, cordials, etc?’
‘Nothing to panic about,’ said Russell, picking up a pen and going over to a whiteboard. ‘I’ll take it point by point:’
1. Mr Bullerton wants to stand on a plinth, or platform of some kind, so he’s higher up and looks important. We can build it using bits and pieces from the shed and the glue we’ve already got.
‘Any questions?’
Mickey Thompson waved his hand in the air.
‘I thought the glue was for the vase,’ he said.
‘The vase has moved down the list of priorities,’ said Russell. ‘OK?’
Mickey Thompson nodded.
‘OK,’ said Russell. ‘I’ll continue:’
2. Mr Bullerton wants a jug of water and some bottles of something bright and sweet to put in it.
‘Everyone happy?’
Everyone nodded.
‘Good,’ said Russell. ‘And:’
3. Mr Bullerton wants a few extra bits and pieces along the lines of the ones above.
‘Let’s have some ideas, please.’
‘A great big cake,’ suggested Mickey Thompson.
‘Some intro music,’ suggested Purvis. ‘Or a flag. Or a bunch of flowers.’
went Ortrud, joining in.
‘Excellent suggestions,’ said Russell.
great big cakes,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘And a great big hat.’
‘Right, I think that’s enough, now,’ said Russell. ‘Time’s moving on and we need to decide who’s going to do what, including cleaning up the mess we’ve made – Mr Bullerton won’t be pleased if he sees all that.’
Everyone agreed that Mr Bullerton wouldn’t be pleased if he saw all that. They sat quietly for a moment or two trying to decide who was going to do what.
‘Um,’ said Purvis, after a while.
‘Any volunteers?’ said Russell.
‘It’s difficult,’ said Purvis.
‘Give it a go,’ said Russell.
‘Well, Ortrud’s good at spraying water,’ said Purvis, patting Ortrud’s trunk, ‘so she could clean up the paint we spilled in the Art Room, and all the footprints.’
‘That sounds sensible,’ said Russell. ‘Will you volunteer for paint-cleaning duties, Ortrud?’
Ortrud and trotted off to find the Art Room.
‘Not too much water,’ called Russell, after her. ‘What next?’
‘I don’t mind having a go at sorting out the cordials and flowers and stuff,’ said Purvis. ‘I like flowers.’
‘And I’ll make a start on the plinth,’ said Russell. ‘I enjoy building things.’
‘What about me?’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘Shall I do some tidying up around the wall of lunch?’
‘NO,’ said Russell and Purvis, quickly.
‘Why not?’ said Mickey Thompson, sounding a little put out.
‘Because I might need you to help me with the plinth,’ said Russell. ‘It’s a complicated job.’
‘But,’ began Mickey Thompson.
‘And,’ said Russell, ‘I’ve still got to put the finishing touches to the egg machine, so you can help with that too; I can’t manage it all on my own.’
‘Oh,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘OK.’
‘That’s settled, then,’ said Purvis.
‘As long as I can paint the egg,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘Hush,’ whispered Purvis, giving him a nudge. ‘It isn’t your egg, it’s Russell’s. He probably wants to paint it himself.’
‘You may paint the egg, Mickey Thompson,’ said Russell.
‘HURRAY!’ said Mickey Thompson, happily. ‘But what are we going to do about the wall of lunch? There are noodles dangling everywhere; someone might notice.’
‘He’s right,’ said Purvis. ‘Someone might.’
‘I know,’ said Russell, ‘but without another pair of hands I can’t see how we’re going to manage to…’
‘LOOK OUT!’ shouted Purvis, as there was a noise from the corridor.
‘SOMEBODY’S COMING!’
They all dived into the lunchbox just in time as the door creaked open and someone came in. They all held their breath as the lid of the box flipped up and a furry nose appeared.
‘A dog,’ said Russell.
‘ALLEN!’ shouted the mice.
‘There you are,’ said Allen, sounding relieved.
‘He belongs to Mr Roast Potato,’ explained Mickey Thompson, to Russell.
‘Do I?’ said Allen, sounding surprised.
‘So you’re Allen Potato, Allen,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘Am I?’ said Allen, sounding even more surprised.
‘Did you want us, Allen?’ asked Purvis.
‘I was starting to feel a little bit lonely outside,’ said Allen, ‘so I thought I’d come and find you.’
‘Good timing,’ said Purvis. ‘The arrangements are taking longer than we thought. Will you be our other pair of hands, I mean paws, I mean two pairs of paws, and tidy the wall of lunch?’
‘Yes!’ said Allen.
‘Thanks!’ said Purvis.
‘Err,’ said Allen.
‘What?’ said Purvis.
‘It’s just…’ said Allen.
‘Just what?’ said Purvis.
‘I don’t know what it is,’ said Allen. ‘What is it?’
‘A mess,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘We’ll show you,’ said Purvis, hopping out of the box and leading the way, with Allen , and Russell trotting solemnly, and Mickey Thompson trotting cheerfully behind.
‘There,’ said Purvis, pointing, as they arrived at the packed lunch storage area.
‘Gosh,’ said Allen.
‘See what I mean?’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘Oof,’ said Allen, as a dollop of something fell from the ceiling and him in the eye.
‘Whoops,’ said Purvis.
‘Mmm!’ said Allen, licking.
‘You’ll be all right here then?’ asked Purvis.
‘Mmm,’ said Allen, licking harder. ‘Mmmmmm.’
So they left Allen doing a thorough job of the tidying up and set off to make the other arrangements: Purvis to find some flowers and cordials and things; Russell to build the plinth; and Mickey Thompson to paint the egg for Russell’s egg machine.
‘I’ve been saving that egg for a long time,’ Russell told Mickey Thompson as he left him with the tube
of paint and a brush. ‘It has a particularly pleasing shape. Make a good job of it, won’t you?’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘Did you want it to be red all over or can I do a pattern?’
‘It’s up to you,’ said Russell, ‘but make it look distinctive. Then all the people at the will notice it and be impressed.’
‘Hmm,’ said Mickey Thompson, once he was alone with the egg. ‘Something distinctive.’
He studied it close up, and he viewed it from a distance, and he walked around and around examining it from every angle.
‘Should it be spotty?’ he wondered.
‘Or stripey?
Or checky?
Or with zig-zags?
Or flamingos? Or…’
‘Ooooooh!’ he said, ‘I know.’
And, very carefully, Mickey Thompson started to paint.
was nearly time for the to begin and everyone was feeling excited. The appropriate arrangements were almost ready, so Mickey Thompson and Purvis went out to the playing field to find Howard, who was up a ladder hanging bunting from a tree.
‘Howard,’ they said. ‘Can you help?’
‘Mmm?’ said Howard, fiddling with a knot.
‘It’s the plinth,’ said Purvis.
‘I haven’t been able to find one, I’m afraid,’ said Howard. ‘Mr Bullerton will just have to manage without. He can stand on a chair or something.’
‘He won’t need to,’ said Purvis. ‘There’s a plinth in the shed. Russell made it, but we need you to carry it out. It’s too big for us.’
‘Plinth? Shed?’ said Howard. ‘Russell?’
‘That’s right,’ said Purvis.
‘Who is this Russell?’ said Howard.
‘He’s the stick insect that lives in the ,’ said Mickey Thompson, and Howard tottered on his ladder.
‘Careful,’ said Purvis.
‘The stick insect that lives in the has built a plinth,’ said Howard.
‘Yes,’ said the mice.
‘You’re having me on,’ said Howard.
‘No,’ said the mice. ‘So will you come and carry it, please.’
Howard sighed, and climbed down the ladder.
‘Lead on,’ he said. ‘I’m all agog.’
So they took Howard to the shed and showed him the plinth, which was made from pieces of wood and bits of box with a velvet cushion glued on top.
‘Heavens,’ said Howard.
‘Isn’t it lovely?’ said Purvis.
‘Err…’ said Howard.
‘Especially the cushion.’
‘The cushion is a nice touch,’ conceded Howard, ‘but there are issues of stability to consider.’
‘How do you mean?’ asked Purvis.
‘It looks as though it could collapse at any moment,’ said Howard. ‘I think it’ll be safer to stick with the chair idea.’
‘But Howard,’ said Purvis. ‘Russell’s gone to a lot of trouble.’
‘I can see that,’ said Howard, ‘but…’
‘And Mr Bullerton specifically asked for a plinth,’ said Purvis. ‘Several, actually, so I don’t think he’ll be happy making-do with a chair.’
‘Possibly not,’ said Howard, ‘but…’
‘He’ll blame you if he doesn’t get one,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘All right, all right,’ said Howard, picking up the plinth and back to the playing field.
‘There,’ he puffed, it down. ‘Now I must get on with this bunting. Everyone will be here soon.’
‘Howard,’ said Purvis.
‘Mmm?’ said Howard, fiddling with a string.
‘Can you fetch the bucket of water?’
‘What bucket of water?’ asked Howard. ‘Which bucket of water?’
‘The one for Mr Bullerton to drink,’ explained Purvis.
‘I thought he ordered cordials,’ said Howard.
‘He did,’ said Purvis, ‘and I’ve got them – look.’ He showed Howard a jam jar with something bright blue in it, a plastic cup with something bright green in it, and a saucer with something silver and sparkly in it.
‘Well, then,’ said Howard. ‘We’re covered on the
cordials front.’
‘But Russell said there should be a jug of water to go with them,’ said Purvis.
‘Did he, now?’ said Howard. ‘Full of bright ideas, your Russell, isn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Purvis, ‘and I couldn’t find a jug, so a bucket seemed the next best thing.’
said Howard, sniffing the saucer. ‘What exactly are these things?’
‘Oh,’ said Purvis, ‘just… cordials.’
‘And where did you find them?’ asked Howard.
‘Oh,’ said Purvis, ‘just… around and about. QUICK, let’s get the bucket.’ He sprinted off and Mickey Thompson sprinted after him, so Howard followed, collected the bucket of water, and back to the playing field.
‘There,’ he puffed, it down next to the plinth. ‘Now I must get on with this bunting.’
He climbed the ladder and began fiddling about again, while the mice hovered underneath.
‘You’re hovering,’ said Howard.
‘We need some more help,’ said Purvis.
Howard and climbed down.
‘Well?’ he said.
‘There are a few other bits and pieces that need bringing out,’ said Purvis.
‘Such as?’ said Howard.
‘Some broccoli, a book on baking, a miniature violin and an egg machine,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘I’m reluctant to ask,’ said Howard, ‘but I think I’m going to have to.’
‘Well, said Purvis, ‘the broccoli’s instead of a bunch of flowers because I couldn’t find any, and the book on baking’s instead of a great cake because I couldn’t find one of those either, and…’
‘It’s got some very nice pictures in it, that book,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘I’m so pleased,’ said Howard.
‘Especially the one on page 14,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘And the miniature violin’s for you to play as intro music,’ continued Purvis, ‘and…’
‘Stop,’ said Howard. ‘What?’
‘Page 14,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘It had really thick icing. Really thick .’
‘Not that,’ said Howard. ‘What was it you said about intro music?’
‘For Mr Bullerton,’ said Purvis.
‘Played by you.’
‘I can’t play the violin,’ said Howard.
‘It’s only a small one,’ said Purvis. ‘There’s a sticker on it saying “Designed for the Young Beginner, three years and up.”.’
‘That won’t necessarily help,’ said Howard.
‘No?’ said Purvis.
‘No,’ said Howard, firmly.
‘Well how about a triangle, then?’ suggested Purvis. ‘I found one of those too, and they’re easy.’
‘Triangle it is,’ said Howard, checking his watch. ‘And what was the other thing?’
‘Russell’s egg machine,’ said Purvis. ‘He’s entering it in the egg race.’
‘I painted the egg,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘It’s distinctive.’
‘Yes,’ muttered Purvis. ‘It is.’
‘Come on, then,’ said Howard. ‘You’d better show me where it all is.’
So the mice took Howard into the and they all splashed along the corridor towards Russell’s room.
‘Everything seems rather wet,’ commented Howard.
‘Hmm,’ said Purvis, worriedly, as they rounded the corner and arrived at the wall of lunch where, surrounded by empty boxes, Allen was curled up asleep on one shelf, covered in crumbs, and Ortrud was curled up asleep on another shelf, covered in paint, both snoring heavily.
‘Oh dear,’ said Purvis.
‘Oh lawks,’ said Howard.
‘Bother,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘There’s nothing left.’
‘QUICK!’ said Howard, . ‘We need to wake them up and get them out of here. I don�
�t want to get caught by…’
‘MR BULLERTON!’ came a voice from up the corridor.
‘JB Undercracker,’ groaned Howard. He quickly positioned himself in front of Allen and Ortrud and stuffed the mice in his pocket as she whizzed towards them, with Mr Bullerton stomping furiously behind.
‘Everything seems rather wet, Mr Bullerton,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Howard and Mr Bullerton, together. Mr Bullerton glared at Howard.
‘Now then, Mr Bullerton,’ said JB Undercracker, to Howard.
‘Me?’ said Howard.
‘You,’ said JB Undercracker.
said Howard, nervously. ‘Mmm?’ Mr Bullerton made a growling noise in his throat.
‘It’s the strangest thing,’ said JB Undercracker, flicking her thumb towards Mr Bullerton, ‘but this gentleman here claims to be a Mr Bullerton too!’
‘Extraordinary!’ said Howard.
‘Isn’t it?’ said JB Undercracker, giggling.
‘Not claim,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘Am. And not a,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘The.’
‘Come again?’ said JB Undercracker.
‘I’m telling you I am Mr Bullerton, ME, and this man,’ he pointed at Howard, ‘HE is an IMPOSTER.’
‘No, no,’ said JB Undercracker. ‘He’s an inspector.’
‘OOH!’ said Howard. ‘Just look at the time. Don’t you think we ought to be getting along to the Sports Day?’
‘INSPECTOR?’ shouted Mr Bullerton. ‘WHAT KIND OF INSPECTOR?’
‘A lunch one, checking up on the thingamies,’ said JB Undercracker, ‘and… err… oh dear,’ she said, noticing the empty boxes for the first time. ‘Mr Bullerton? What’s happened to all the lunches?’
‘What lunches?’ said Howard, gazing around.
‘The ones that used to be in these empty boxes,’ said JB Undercracker.
‘Oh, those lunches.’ said Howard. ‘Yes, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that.’
JB Undercracker and Mr Bullerton waited for Howard to speak.
‘Now would seem to be a good time,’ said JB Undercracker, after a while.
‘Err…’ said Howard.
‘Mmm?’ said JB Undercracker.
The Clumsies Make a Mess of the School Page 3