The Clumsies Make a Mess of the School
Page 4
‘Well…’ said Howard.
‘You were inspecting them again,’ hissed Purvis, from the pocket.
‘What?’ hissed Howard, back.
‘INSPECTING THEM AGAIN,’ hissed Purvis. ‘IT WAS A RE-INSPECTION.’
‘Can’t you think of anything better to say than that?’ hissed Howard, into the pocket.
‘No,’ hissed Purvis, back.
‘Right,’ sighed Howard. ‘Unfortunately, I had to conduct a re-inspection of the entire Packed Lunch Storage Area as a result of which all the lunches have now been confiscated.’
‘Confiscated?’ JB Undercracker.
‘And destroyed,’ said Howard, ‘because they were contaminated. It’s all this water you’ve got around, you see. It makes things damp and unhygienic.’
‘I suppose it does,’ said JB Undercracker. ‘You’ve been most helpful, Mr Bullerton.’
‘It’s all part of the service,’ said Howard, and Mr Bullerton made another growling noise.
‘I should get a plumber in if I were you,’ advised Howard.
‘And an ice-cream van,’ said JB Undercracker, looking up the number on her phone.
‘If you think it will help,’ said Howard.
‘The poor dears have got to eat something,’ said JB Undercracker, making the call. ‘They’re going to be doing a lot of running around this afternoon.’
‘They’re not the only ones,’
said Mr Bullerton into Howard’s ear, through teeth.
‘EEK,’ said Howard, .
‘See you soon, Kev, I mean Luigi,’ said JB Undercracker, finishing her call. ‘Now, we’d better decide which of you Mr Bullertons is going to be the Guest of Honour.’
‘I am,’ said Mr Bullerton, quickly.
‘He is,’ said Howard, equally quickly. ‘The Guest of Honour is definitely him.’
‘And Mr so-called Lunch Inspector here has kindly volunteered to take part in all the races,’ said Mr Bullerton, with a smile.
‘Eh?’ said Howard.
‘All?’ said JB Undercracker. ‘People normally choose just one or two.’
‘All,’ said Mr Bullerton.
‘That’s the spirit,’ said JB Undercracker, slapping Howard on the back. ‘You’d better go and get changed.’
‘What?’ said Howard.
‘You’ll find some little shorts in the changing room down there,’ said JB Undercracker, pointing. ‘Get a move on, laddie. It’s nearly time for the to begin.’
She climbed onto the scooter and shot off up the corridor, with Mr Bullerton smirkingly behind.
‘What am I going to do now?’ groaned Howard.
‘Put on the little shorts?’ suggested Purvis.
‘I don’t want to,’ said Howard. ‘And I don’t want to be in the races.’
‘It’ll be fun,’ said Mickey Thompson, brightly. ‘We’ll cheer you on from the sidelines.’
‘That makes me feel so much better,’ said Howard.
‘It might be best to go along with it, Howard,’ said Purvis. ‘Mr Bullerton’s going to be cross enough as it is after all the business about the Mr Bullertons and the lunch inspecting.’
‘Hmm,’ said Howard.
‘And anyway, it’s just racing a few children,’ said Purvis, trying to sound encouraging. ‘You never know – you might even win a prize. That would impress him.’
‘You’re right,’ said Howard. ‘I’m bigger and faster than they are: how bad can it be?’
He ran to the changing room and put on some shorts, then ran to the wall of lunch and collected Allen and Ortrud, then ran to Russell’s room and collected Russell, the broccoli, the book on baking, the triangle, the mice and the egg machine.
said Howard, staring at the egg.
‘Do you think it’s distinctive?’ asked Mickey Thompson.
said Howard, still staring at it.
‘Err... QUICK!’ shouted Purvis. ‘I can hear a whistle. They must be starting the races!’
said Howard, still staring at the egg.
‘COME ON, HOWARD!’ shouted Purvis, into Howard’s ear. ‘If you’re late you’ll be in even more trouble.’
Howard. ‘You’re right. LET’S GO!’
So they all quickly down the corridor and out onto the playing field, which was now full of ice-creams and children and bunting and guests, and hoops and scooters and space-hoppers and eggs and all sorts of other racing equipment, and over seeing it all sat Mr Bullerton, on his plinth.
‘Go on, Howard,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘Give him his stuff.’
‘Must I?’ said Howard.
‘Of course,’ said Purvis. ‘It’s what he wanted. Oh, and don’t forget the intro music.’ He passed Howard the triangle, and Howard went over to the plinth and gazed upwards.
‘Well?’ said Mr Bullerton, gazing downwards.
‘Here,’ said Howard, handing up the broccoli and the book on baking.
‘What are these?’ said Mr Bullerton.
‘The things you asked for,’ said Howard.
‘No they’re not,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘I don’t want them. Take them away.’
‘Intro music,’ hissed Purvis.
‘Apparently page 14’s well worth a look,’ said Howard, tinging the triangle.
‘Stop that tinging,’ barked Mr Bullerton. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’
‘No,’ said Howard. ‘I don’t know; probably; I just…’
‘AND WHAT’S THAT THING DOING HERE?’ shouted Mr Bullerton, suddenly noticing Allen.
‘Ah-ha!’ said JB Undercracker, bustling up. ‘There you are, Mr Bullerton. Ready?’
‘Well…’ said Howard.
‘Feeling energetic?’ said JB Undercracker.
‘Um…’ said Howard.
‘Wonderful,’ said JB Undercracker, manhandling him away and over to the starting line, where a large group of children was waiting for the racing to begin.
‘There he is!’ said Mickey Thompson, excitedly, as he and the others watched from their spot on the sidelines.
‘GOOD LUCK, HOWARD!’ shouted Purvis.
‘He’s looking a little bit worried,’ said Allen.
‘And he’s still got the broccoli,’ said Purvis, peering. ‘Maybe I should go and…’
‘Too late,’ said Mickey Thompson, as JB Undercracker gave a loud blast on her whistle.
‘RUNNERS AT THE READY,’ she shouted. ‘GO!’
‘Oof,’ said Howard, as he was trampled underfoot by stampeding children.
‘Whoops,’ said Purvis.
said Mickey Thompson. ‘That looked painful.’
‘Never mind, Mr Bullerton!’ called JB Undercracker, as Howard to his feet and limped along. ‘Better luck next time. A a a a a n d SPACE-HOPPERS AT THE READY,’ she shouted.
‘Oof,’ said Howard, as he was underfoot by bouncing children.
‘Deary-me,’ said Russell.
‘I can’t bear to watch,’ said Allen.
‘You’re doing marvellously, Mr Bullerton!’ called JB Undercracker, as Howard curled up into a little ball.
‘A a a a a n d SACK-RACERS AT THE READY…’
‘WAIT!’ Howard.
‘GO!’ shouted JB Undercracker.’
said Howard, as he was underfoot by jumping children.
‘HAHAHA HAHAHA!’ laughed Mr Bullerton, atop his plinth. ‘YOU’RE USELESS, HOWARD ARMITAGE. U. S. E. L. E. S. S. USELESS.’
‘Help,’ gulped Howard.
‘GO!’ shouted JB Undercracker, setting off another one.
went Ortrud, loudly.
‘Ooh-err,’ said Allen, worriedly.
‘Squashed,’ said Mickey Thompson, sadly.
‘We must help him,’ said Purvis. ‘Russell! What shall we do?’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Russell. ‘Tell him to ask for the egg machine race. It’s slower; he’ll be able to rest.’
So Purvis scurried over to where Howard was lying on the ground and whispered into his ear.
groaned Howa
rd.
‘The egg race!’ whispered Purvis. ‘Ask for it now!’
groaned Howard.
‘Louder,’ whispered Purvis, ‘and with enthusiasm. Then you’ll be able to rest.’
‘EGG RACE,’ roared Howard.
‘I WANT THAT EGG RACE NOW.’
‘YES!’ JB Undercracker, clapping her hands. ‘That’s my favourite. EGG RACE, EVERYBODY! START THE EGG RACE NOW!’
So everybody ran back and forth finding their eggs and their egg machines and lining them up on the starting line. Looking and Howard carefully positioned Russell’s complicated contraption next to all the other complicated contraptions and balanced the painted egg on top. Mr Bullerton peered down from his plinth and eyed it, suspiciously.
‘Distinctive, isn’t it?’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘Extremely,’ said Russell.
‘We may have a problem,’ puffed Howard, arriving beside them as Mr Bullerton eyed the egg harder.
‘Ah,’ said Purvis.
‘A a a a a a n d…’ said JB Undercracker.
‘STOP!’ ordered Mr Bullerton.
Everyone as he clambered down from the plinth. Everyone gulped as he approached the painted egg. Everyone held their breath as he bent to examine it.
Mickey Thompson was right: it was distinctive, with two eyes and a mouth and a tongue sticking out and, underneath, the word ‘BULLERTON,’ carefully written in large and very red letters.
Mr Bullerton began to shake his fist.
‘Howard!’ the Clumsies.
JB Undercracker.
‘NOOO!’ Mr Bullerton, as he was toppled by clattering egg machines and with breaking eggs.
‘A a a a a a a a n d…’ said JB Undercracker.
‘Howard?’ said the Clumsies.
‘Let’s go!’ said Howard. And they did.
Copyright
First published in paperback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2011 HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
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Text copyright © Sorrel Anderson 2011
Illustrations copyright © Nicola Slater 2011
ISBN: 978-0-00-743867-9
Epub Edition © JANUARY 2012 ISBN: 9780007460168
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