The Bolds Go Green

by Julian Clary

  What do you call a cow on a trampoline?

  A milkshake!

  How do you make an octopus laugh?

  With ten tickles!

  Suddenly they heard a car horn beep. Everyone rushed to the front door to see a large shiny limousine with blacked-out windows parked outside.

  ‘She’s here!’ cried Mrs Bold. ‘Fifi’s here at last!’

  The driver, looking very smart and wearing a peaked cap, got out of the car and strode round to open the back door and help the passenger out. Wearing dark glasses, a veil and a floor-length faux fur coat, Fifi emerged. She raised a gloved hand to cover her face.

  ‘S’il vous plaît!’ she said in her thick French accent. ‘No photos, please!’ and she swept up the garden.

  ‘Gosh,’ murmured Betty.

  ‘Isn’t she beautiful!’ said Mrs Bold, wiping a tear from her eye. ‘Welcome home, Fifi dearest!’

  Fifi greeted everyone with a kiss on each cheek. ‘Merci! Merci!’ Then Mr Bold helped the chauffeur carry in her matching set of twelve Louis Vuitton suitcases.

  Finally everyone settled in the lounge and tea was served. Fifi sat on the sofa, Bobby and Betty either side of her, and removed her dark glasses and veil.

  ‘Ah, it is good to be back,’ she said, hugging the twins affectionately. ‘You all look so well!’

  ‘How have you been, old girl?’ asked Mr McNumpty.

  ‘Old?’ repeated Fifi.

  ‘I mean – no, not old – young! Er, how has it all been going?’

  ‘My voice is better than ever. I am a huge success,’ said Fifi modestly. ‘It is a gift.’ She shrugged. ‘But I never forget my humble roots, ici in Teddington.’

  ‘No place like home, eh?’ said Mr Bold.

  ‘Ce’st vrai,’ nodded Fifi, pausing to reapply her Russian Red lipstick. ‘I owe all of my success to you Bolds. All of you.’

  ‘We’re so pleased for you,’ said Mrs Bold. ‘Really we are.’

  ‘And I have missed you,’ she continued. ‘You understand me better than anyone else. And do you know what I would really like? What I crave?’

  ‘Caviar?’ asked Mrs Bold, looking slightly worried.

  ‘Champagne?’ offered Uncle Tony.

  ‘Non!’ Fifi lowered her voice. ‘What I want – what I ’ave been dreaming of – is a big, juicy bone!’

  What did the French skeleton call his friend?

  Bone ami!

  ‘There’s a nice bone in the fridge,’ said Mrs Bold when the laughing stopped. ‘Run and get it, would you, Bobby?’

  ‘Yes, sir-ee!’ said Bobby.

  Fifi began to salivate at the prospect, causing her lipstick to bubble a bit at the corners of her mouth. ‘I’d better remove my manteau,’ she said excitedly, taking off her coat. ‘Et mes gloves!’

  Bobby returned carrying a large bone and Fifi got down on the floor, held the bone between her front paws and began to gnaw on it hungrily. ‘Mmmm, c’est delicious!’ she said contentedly.

  Everyone sat and watched Fifi make quick work of her treat.

  Mrs Bold observed that without her coat on, their former pupil had put on a bit of weight. But knowing how sensitive showbiz people are about such things she decided it was probably best not to say anything. The meal portions on cruise ships were known to be generous and who could blame Fifi for enjoying the first-class catering?

  When the bone was finished, Fifi licked her lips and sat back down on the sofa, allowing herself a rather unladylike burp.

  ‘Ah! That was merveilleuse!’ she declared. ‘It hit the spot perfectly!’

  Then there was a scratching sound at the door and it swung open to reveal Annika, dressed in a floral winceyette nightie and yawning.

  ‘Eek!’ shrieked Fifi. ‘Qui est-ce?’

  ‘Come on in, Annika,’ said Mrs Bold. ‘Meet Fifi.’ Annika smiled at Fifi and gave her a sniff with her long snout.

  ‘Pleased to meet you. Everyone has been very excited waiting for your visit.’

  Fifi wagged her tail and sniffed the aardvark in return, from head to toe.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said. ‘Je suis Fifi Lampadaire, singer extraordinaire.’

  ‘French poodle, unless I’m mistaken? Happy to make your acquaintance.’

  ‘Oui,’ confirmed Fifi. ‘Likewise.’

  ‘Fifi?’ asked Bobby. ‘Your postcard said you had a “little problem”. We’ve been wondering what it is.’

  ‘Are you OK?’ added Betty.

  Everyone looked expectantly at Fifi.

  ‘Ah, oui,’ she said, looking a little serious.

  ‘Nothing bad, I hope?’ asked Mrs Bold.

  ‘Whatever the problem, we Bolds can sort it out,’ said Mr Bold cheerfully.

  ‘Merci,’ said Fifi. ‘Perhaps “problem” was the wrong word to use. But it is the reason I ’ad to leave the cruise ship. The reason I wanted to come ’ome.’ She patted her tummy gently. ‘Did I mention my adorable Samir in my postcard?’

  ‘You did,’ said Betty. ‘“Très romantique!”, you said.’

  Fifi nodded. ‘Yes, indeed. We are in love!’

  ‘Ahhh!’ said Mrs Bold. ‘That’s lovely. I’m so happy for you.’

  ‘Merci. Samir is part of the onboard security service on the ship.’

  ‘A police dog?’ asked Mr Bold.

  ‘Oui. He is so brave, mon Samir. And handsome...’

  What do you call a dog detective?

  Sherlock Bones!

  ‘But why does that mean you had to leave the ship?’ asked Mr McNumpty reasonably.

  Fifi gazed at the mantelpiece for a moment. ‘Well, sometimes when two people are in love, then a happy event happens...’

  There was a thoughtful silence in the room, broken by a gasp from Mrs Bold.

  ‘Oh. Oh! OH! You’re pregnant!’ Mrs Bold jumped up and hugged Fifi.

  ‘Merci,’ said Fifi. ‘Oui. My pups are due any day!’

  ‘That explains fat tum-tum!’ squeaked Miranda from the top of the curtain rail.

  ‘Congratulations, Fifi dearest,’ said Mrs Bold, clasping her paws together with delight. ‘What happy news!’

  ‘We’re going to have puppies to play with!’ exclaimed Betty.

  ‘And clear up after...’ added Uncle Tony.

  ‘Poopie-scoopie,’ squeaked Miranda.

  Fifi yawned. ‘But now, je suis si fatigué. Please could you show me to my room? Walking on my hind legs in my condition isn’t easy.’

  The twins led Fifi upstairs and proudly showed her the newly decorated yellow bedroom.

  ‘C’est magnifique!’ declared the poodle, settling herself on the comfy bed. ‘Would you draw the curtains for me? I think I need to rest.’

  ‘Shall we see you in the morning?’ asked Bobby.

  ‘Oui, mes chéries. Maybe a tray with some warm milk and another delicious bone? Goodnight!’

  The twins closed the door behind them and left Fifi to sleep.

  While Fifi rested in the spare room, Bobby, Betty and Minnie’s time was fully occupied in the endless search for enough ants to keep Annika’s voracious appetite at bay. They couldn’t risk breaking in to the school again, that was for sure. And they didn’t really need to. Ants are everywhere, as you may have noticed, but to find a meal’s worth, the nest had to be located.

  ‘All we have to do is find an ant, then follow it until it goes home. Then bingo, that’s where the nest will be, surely?’ said Minnie.

  The three friends tried this, but it was tedious.

  ‘He’s just going round in circles,’ sighed Bobby, after watching an ant in the garden for more than ten minutes. ‘There must be a better way. I’m going cross-eyed!’

  ‘And I’ve been following my ant for ages too,’ complained Betty. ‘This way, that way, ziggy-zaggy all ov
er the path, then he disappeared into a crevice, never to be seen again. I’m bored. Why can’t Annika just eat a sandwich? That would be much simpler. Humph!’

  ‘We mustn’t give up,’ said Minnie, who was more patient than the hyena twins. ‘And if Annika ate a sandwich, it wouldn’t agree with her and she would get ill. We don’t want that, do we?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Bobby grudgingly.

  ‘Well, if you’re so clever, you find the nest,’ said Betty, crossing her arms. ‘I’m done with this.’

  ‘OK,’ agreed Minnie. ‘Ants live in colonies. And just like us, they have to keep their homes clean. We need to look for little mounds of earth or wood shavings. This is their refuse.’

  ‘Like a rubbish tip?’ asked Bobby.

  ‘Exactly,’ nodded Minnie. ‘The ants will be close by, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘I’ve seen some little pyramids just like that at the end of the garden!’ cried Betty.

  ‘Eureka!’ said Minnie excitedly. ‘Show me.’

  Betty led the way to the end of the path next to the shed and, sure enough, there were several mounds of what looked like finely sieved earth and sawdust. And lots of ants nearby, busily going about their ant business.

  ‘Yes!’ said Minnie. ‘Well done, Betty. You see, there is always a solution to any problem if you think about it in a logical way. Now we just need to get a half-chewed toffee and a container – maybe not the bin this time – like before, and the ants will march inside it!’

  ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ said Bobby, who didn’t like the idea of wasting a toffee every time Annika was peckish.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Minnie.

  ‘Well, Annika doesn’t need breakfast in bed like Fifi, does she? She’s not expecting babies. Why don’t we bring Annika to the nest and she can help herself?’

  ‘Brilliant!’ said Minnie. ‘Wish I’d thought of that!’

  So they went back to the house and tapped on the door to the cupboard under the stairs.

  ‘Ye-es?’ said a tired-sounding Annika. ‘Who is it?’

  Bobby opened the cupboard door. ‘We’ve found some fresh ants for you. Would you like to come and get them?’

  Annika jumped out of her laundry basket, put on her dressing gown, then rubbed her eyes and licked her lips at the same time.

  ‘Ooh, lovely! Let me at them!’

  No sooner had they gone through the back door than Annika’s nose began to twitch.

  ‘Over here,’ she stated, pointing in the direction of the ants and marching confidently down the garden path.

  ‘You’ve got an even better sense of smell than us!’ laughed Betty.

  ‘I have when it comes to ants,’ agreed Annika. ‘In fact, I can tell you now there are several more colonies in this garden and next door.’ She stopped and inhaled, her eyes momentarily closed. ‘Seven, eight... there are ten or more within a few metres of where I’m standing now.’

  ‘Gosh,’ said Betty, impressed.

  ‘So, really, we don’t need to find ants for you all the time?’ asked Minnie.

  ‘No, dear. I’m quite self-sufficient. Now if you’ll excuse me?’

  The twins and Minnie watched as she then glided purposefully towards the garden shed, tripping over her dressing gown a couple of times as she went. Once Annika located the nest, she lowered her head and began licking up the ants, humming quietly with delight.

  ‘Happy aardvark!’ declared Minnie.

  ‘And happy us,’ said Minnie. ‘Now we don’t have to spend all day looking for ants, we can go and play! If only we’d thought of that earlier.’

  But what was to become of Annika? Was she just going to go on living under the stairs for ever? Mr and Mrs Bold wondered about this, and thought they should try to find out what exactly their visitor’s hopes and expectations might be. She was no trouble – cucumbers weren’t expensive, and in fact they’d started to grow some in the vegetable patch, while ants, of course, were everywhere. No, it wasn’t that they wanted Annika to move on, but they sensed, somehow, that 41 Fairfield Road wasn’t her ultimate life destination.

  The next morning after breakfast, Mr Bold turned the conversation to Annika’s future plans.

  ‘I’m glad you brought it up,’ said Annika. ‘When I escaped from the zoo with Charlie and Fergie, our main objective was freedom. To get away from there and find you. We didn’t have any plans about what to do after that. We all just wanted to stick together. But then, once I was free, Fergie went to get Charlie and,as I told you, she never returned.’

  ‘You must worry about your friends,’ said Mrs Bold.

  ‘Poor Aardy-varky,’ called Miranda from the top of the kitchen cupboard.

  ‘Maybe Fergie forgot where she’d dropped me? Or she got spooked by the searchlight? Or they’re still trapped in there,’ said Annika with despair.

  ‘Maybe they escaped and Fergie has attempted to fly back to Australia,’ suggested Mr Bold.

  ‘I doubt it. It’s too far, especially with her weak wing,’ pointed out Annika. ‘I thought they might come here. That we could all meet up as planned. But it has been a week now, and there has been no sign.’

  ‘You’d think someone would notice a skunk in the vicinity!’ joked Mr Bold.

  ‘Stinky-stinky!’ squealed Miranda.

  ‘Yes, quite,’ agreed Annika. ‘Charlie can be quite pungent if he’s in the mood.’

  How many skunks does it

  take to make a big stink?

  Quite a PHEW!

  What do you call

  a flying skunk?

  A smell-icopter!

  ‘That’s rather good,’ commented Annika, joining in with the laughter. ‘Any more skunk jokes?’

  ‘Er...’ said Mr Bold. ‘Of course!’

  Why didn’t the skunk call his parents?

  Because his phone was out of odour!

  Mr McNumpty suddenly stood up. ‘Wait a minute. Those skunk jokes have reminded me of an article in yesterday’s paper, concerning a terrible smell.’

  ‘Really?’ said Mr Bold.

  ‘Yes. Where is yesterday’s newspaper?’

  ‘In the garage in the recycling bin,’ Mr Bold replied.

  ‘Could you get it for me?’

  Mr Bold went off to dig it out.

  ‘Something to do with my missing friends?’ asked Annika, frowning. ‘In the paper?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ mumbled Mr McNumpty. ‘It might be nothing, but worth checking out, perhaps. Didn’t think much about it at the time. But now...’

  Mr Bold rushed in, carrying a rather screwed-up newspaper. ‘This one?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Mr McNumpty began scanning each page quickly before turning to the next. Eventually he stopped and pointed to a photograph of Big Ben.

  ‘Aha!’ he said. ‘Listen to this. It’s only a short article on page eight, but interesting, I think.’ And he began to read. ‘Climate change Activists Try to Turn Back Time is the headline.’ Then he continued reading aloud.

  Two climate change activists who scaled the side of Big Ben caused the historic clock at Westminster Palace to be stopped yesterday for safety reasons. The pair, thought to be from the large encampment who have been living in tents in Parliament Square for several weeks, began their ascent shortly before 5 p.m. yesterday afternoon. The famous bongs were stopped for safety reasons during the demonstration. Once they reached the clock face they unfurled a homemade banner which read ‘MAKE OUR PLANET GREEN AGAIN!’ Both protestors were arrested shortly afterwards.

  ‘Good on them!’ said Annika. ‘In sub-Saharan Africa, we aardvarks need grass and woodlands to live in. There is far too much concrete around, in my opinion.’

  ‘Shame for the tourists, though, who’d travelled all the way to London to hear Big Ben’s famous chimes,’ said Uncle Tony, shaking his hea
d sadly.

  ‘But listen to the last paragraph,’ said Mr McNumpty. ‘What do you make of this?’

  Climate protestors were also thought to be responsible for setting off a stink bomb in the public gallery of Westminster Palace, which caused the House of Commons to be evacuated during Prime Minister’s Questions yesterday. One MP suggested the smell was skunk-like.

  Annika gasped. ‘Stink bomb? Skunk-like? That’s Charlie, surely?!’ she cried.

  ‘Seems too much to just be a coincidence, doesn’t it?’ said Mr McNumpty, passing the newspaper to Bobby and Betty.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Mr Bold. ‘I think you might be onto something here.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ interrupted Bobby excitedly. ‘Look at the photo. Can you see what I can see?’

  Everyone peered over his shoulder at the newspaper and the photo of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament.

  ‘Nice banner,’ commented Mrs Bold approvingly.

  ‘Waste of a sheet, if you ask me,’ said Uncle Tony.

  What did the watch say to the clock?

  Hour you doing!

  ‘No, no, no!’ said Betty crossly. ‘You’re not looking properly. Bobby’s right. There, under that turret, above the clockface. To the left, slightly.’ Her hairy paw directed their attention to a small, dark blob. ‘See it?’

  Everyone peered closer. Uncle Tony put his reading glasses on.

  ‘Just a shadow, isn’t it?’ said Mrs Bold.

  ‘Maybe, maybe not,’ said Bobby. ‘But I think it might be something else.’

  ‘What exactly?’ said Mr Bold, squinting at the photo intensely.

  Suddenly Annika began to breathe faster. ‘Ah! I – I think I see something!’

  Betty smiled and nodded. ‘See the way it’s hanging there, the shadow? And look at the outline. Turn it upside down. Now half close your eyes.’