For Henry, who seems to have picked up some of Bertie’s dirty habits (apologies to the hamster) ~ D R
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
1 Burp!
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
2 Stinky!
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
3 Walkies!
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
Copyright
CHAPTER 1
Bertie was the only one in his class who actually liked school dinners. Lumpy mash with gloopy gravy. Wormy spaghetti with meatballs. Cold custard with slimy skin on top. Bertie loved them all.
“Ugh! I don’t know how you can eat it!” said Darren at lunch on Friday. Bertie slurped his rice pudding and gave an extremely satisfied burp.
“Aren’t you going to finish yours?”
“No,” said Darren. “It looks like frogspawn.”
“Pass it over,” said Bertie.
Just then Miss Skinner, the Head, swept into the dining hall with a woman in a white coat. Miss Skinner rapped on a table to get their attention. “I want you all to meet Miss Beansprout, who is our new Head Dinner Lady,” she said. “Miss Beansprout has lots of splendid ideas to improve our school meals.”
Miss Beansprout gazed at them fondly. “Children,” she said, “it’s my job to make sure you all have a healthy, wholesome diet. Who can tell me something that is healthy and delicious?”
Pamela raised her hand. “An orange,” she said.
“Very good,” beamed Miss Beansprout.
“An avocado,” said Know-All Nick, showing off.
“Excellent,” said Miss Beansprout.
“Nuts,” said Bertie.
“Wonderful. Nuts are very good for you,” nodded Miss Beansprout.
“Great,” said Bertie. “Will we be having doughnuts tomorrow?”
“Stop talking and get on with your dinner,” snapped Miss Beansprout.
On Monday Mrs Mould wasn’t serving dinners behind the hatch as usual. In her place was Miss Beansprout. She had written a menu on the board.
Bertie and his friends stared in horror. Surely this was some kind of joke? Broccoli? Cabbage? Was she trying to KILL them?
“What’s this?” asked Bertie.
“Lots of lovely fruit and vegetables,” said Miss Beansprout. “Just what growing children need.”
“But where are the chips?” asked Bertie.
“No greasy chips,” said Miss Beansprout.
“Where is the custard?”
“No horrible custard.”
“Where’s the jam roly-poly pudding?”
“No stodgy puddings full of nasty sugar,” said Miss Beansprout. “From now on we’re all going to be eating delicious greens and nourishing salads.”
“I love salad,” said Know-All Nick. “A big helping for me!”
Bertie gave him a withering look.
“Cabbage Soup or Broccoli Bake?” Miss Beansprout asked him.
“Can’t I just have pudding?” asked Bertie.
“Broccoli Bake it is,” said Miss Beansprout. She ladled a gloopy green mess on to Bertie’s plate. SPLAT!
Next to it went the salad, swimming in beetroot juice.
“Yoghurt or Carrot Cake Surprise?” asked Miss Beansprout.
“What’s the surprise?” asked Bertie, hopefully.
“The carrots are organic. That means they’re bursting with vitamins!” beamed Miss Beansprout.
Bertie carried his tray over to a table to sit down. “I can’t eat this,” he grumbled, staring at his plate.
“You haven’t tasted it yet,” said Know-All Nick.
“Quite right, Nicholas,” said Miss Skinner, who was on dinner duty. “Perhaps some fussy children could learn from your example. Eat up, Bertie, it looks delicious!”
Bertie raised a forkful of green gloop to his lips. Darren leaned over to whisper in his ear.
“Boiled bogeys with squashed slug salad.”
Bertie set down his fork. Suddenly he didn’t feel at all hungry.
CHAPTER 2
Miss Beansprout’s dinners got worse. On Tuesday they had Celery and Nut Crumble. On Wednesday it was Liver Casserole and Sprouts followed by Stewed Prunes. Bertie couldn’t take any more. At break time he called an emergency meeting in the playground.
“If I eat one more vegetable I’m going to be sick,” he groaned.
“So am I,” said Eugene.
“I couldn’t stop burping yesterday,” said Darren. “Great big smelly burps!”
“I know, I was sitting next to you,” moaned Donna.
“Well it’s no good just grumbling, we’ve got to do something,” said Bertie.
“We could kidnap Miss Beansprout and lock her in a dungeon,” suggested Darren.
“Good idea,” said Donna. “Except we haven’t got a dungeon.”
“Well I’m not putting up with it any longer,” said Bertie. “They can’t make us eat it.”
“Can’t they?” asked Eugene.
“No,” said Bertie. “Not if we all refuse. Not if we all say we’re going on strike.”
Eugene looked anxious. “Won’t we get into trouble?”
“Listen,” said Bertie. “We’re not eating anything until they give us back our old dinners. Right?”
“Right,” agreed the others. Even lumpy mash and gloopy gravy would be better than the sickly slop Miss Beansprout gave them.
At lunchtime Bertie joined the dinner queue.
“What would you like? Liver Casserole and Sprouts?” asked Miss Beansprout.
“No, thank you,” said Bertie.
“A big slice of Spinach Pie?”
“No thanks,” said Bertie. “I don’t want anything.”
“Nothing? Don’t be silly. You have to eat,” said Miss Beansprout.
Bertie shook his head firmly. “I’d rather go without.”
“So would I,” said Darren.
“And me,” said Donna. She nudged Eugene.
“Oh, me too … please,” said Eugene.
Miss Beansprout sent for Miss Skinner. “These children are refusing to eat their dinner,” she said.
“Which children?” said Miss Skinner. The others all looked at Bertie.
“We’re on strike,” Bertie informed her. “Till you bring back the old dinners.”
Miss Skinner smiled a thin smile. “I see. You don’t want any dinner? Well that’s fine with me.”
“Pardon?” said Bertie.
“It’s fine. Go without,” said Miss Skinner. “Off you go!”
Bertie and his friends trooped away with empty plates. They sat down at a table and watched the other children chewing and slurping their food.
“I’m hungry,” moaned Darren.
“So am I,” groaned Eugene.
“I’m starving! I could even eat a carrot,” said Donna.
Eugene gazed over at Know-All Nick’s plate. “Couldn’t we just have pudding?”
“NO!” said Bertie. “We’re on strike, remember? We’re not eating until they give us back our old dinners.”
“But I haven’t had anything since breakfast,” grumbled Darren. “If I don’t eat soon I’ll starve to death!”
“Huh!” said Bertie. “Well it would just serve them right if we did. Maybe it’d teach them a lesson.”
CHAPTER 3
SLAM! Bertie arrived home from school. His mum was in the kitchen talking on the phone.
“Yes,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’ll speak to him. He’s just come in now.”
Bertie had the feeling it was time to make a swift exit. He ran upstairs.<
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“BERTIE!” yelled his mum. “Down here now. I want a word with you.”
Bertie shuffled into the kitchen.
“What’s all this about not eating your school dinners?” demanded Mum.
“Oh,” said Bertie. “That.”
“Yes, that. I just had Miss Skinner on the phone and she sounds very cross.”
“It’s not my fault,” said Bertie. “The dinners are horrible! They’re full of vegetables.”
“Vegetables are good for you.”
“But Mum, they’re making us eat broccoli. And beetroot! And carrots!”
“Good,” said Mum. “It sounds very healthy.”
“How can it be healthy when I feel ill just looking at it?” asked Bertie.
“Don’t make such a fuss, Bertie. It’s only a few carrots!”
“But Mum…”
“No buts,” said Mum. “Tomorrow you eat all your dinner.”
Bertie sighed. “OK.”
“Promise me,” said Mum.
“I promise,” said Bertie.
As he went upstairs he smiled to himself. He’d promised to eat his dinner – but he hadn’t said what would be in it, had he?
PEEP! Miss Skinner blew her whistle for the start of school. Bertie hurriedly stuffed something down his jumper and fell into line.
“What if she catches you?” hissed Darren.
“She won’t,” replied Bertie.
“No talking at the back!” yelled Miss Skinner. “In you go.”
The line of children began to file past the Head, who watched them with narrowed eyes. Bertie kept his head down. Another few metres and he was home and dry. An arm shot out and barred his way. Uh oh.
“Bertie,” said Miss Skinner.
“Yes, Miss?”
“What’s that lump under your jumper?”
“Lump, Miss? Nothing, Miss.”
“Really?” Miss Skinner’s finger prodded his jumper. It crackled and rustled.
“Hands up,” ordered the Head Teacher.
“What?” said Bertie.
“You heard me, hands in the air.”
Bertie raised both his hands. A bag of crisps fell out of his jumper. Then two more.
“Pockets,” said Miss Skinner.
Bertie turned out his pockets. Some sweets and chocolate bars scattered at Miss Skinner’s feet.
“You know the rules, Bertie,” she said. “No crisps or sweets in school.” The chocolate disappeared into her pocket.
Later that day, Bertie passed the staff room on his way to lunch. He heard raised voices inside. “Thank goodness we don’t have to survive on school dinners,” said Miss Boot.
“Yes, they really are unpleasant,” replied Miss Skinner. “Have another piece.”
Bertie opened the door a crack and peeped in.
He could see his teachers eating something. It was a bar of chocolate. His bar of chocolate. Bertie gasped. Well this time they’d gone too far. Nobody stole Bertie’s chocolate and got away with it.
In the dining room Bertie stared. All his friends were eating their dinner.
“I thought we were on strike,” Bertie scowled.
“Sorry, Bertie. I’ve got to eat. My mum made me promise,” replied Eugene.
“Mine too,” said Darren.
“Never mind, at least we tried,” sighed Donna.
Bertie didn’t answer. He wasn’t beaten yet. If only he could think of some way to get revenge. He stared at the sloppy cauliflower cheese on Eugene’s plate…
“It looks disgusting,” he said.
“Yeah,” agreed Darren. “Like flies in custard.”
“Worms in ice cream,” said Donna.
“Maggot jelly,” said Eugene.
Bertie’s mouth fell open. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Miss Beansprout was always boasting that her meals were made with fresh ingredients…Well maybe he would add a few fresh ingredients of his own!
CHAPTER 4
Next day Bertie waited impatiently for break time.
BRIIING! The bell sounded and the class thundered out into the playground. Bertie doubled back and slipped across the dining hall to the kitchen. He pushed open the door to check the coast was clear. Miss Beansprout was humming to herself at the sink in the back room. He would have to move fast. Bertie tiptoed over to the fridge and opened the door.
There on the top shelf was his target – a large bowl full of green salad. Bertie pulled out the tin he’d borrowed from his dad’s fishing bag and took off the lid. Inside was a sea of fat wriggling grubs.
“Dinner time, boys!” he whispered.
Half an hour later, Miss Skinner sat down to eat her lunch. She raised a forkful of green salad to her mouth and began to chew. Strange, she thought, today it tasted rather odd – sort of salty and squishy. She gazed down at her plate. Something in the salad moved. It raised its head and wiggled around.
“ARGHHHHH!” screamed Miss Skinner. “MAGGOTS!”
Her plate smashed on the floor. She clutched at her throat. Maggots! And she had just swallowed a whole mouthful! She grabbed a jug of water and glugged it down.
“Miss Beansprout!” she screeched. The Head Dinner Lady came running.
Everywhere she looked children were yelling, screaming and spitting their food on the floor. What on earth was going on?
“Look!” thundered Miss Skinner pointing at her plate. “Look!”
“I … I don’t understand,” stammered Miss Beansprout. “The salad was fresh this morning.”
“Fresh?” thundered Miss Skinner. “It’s crawling with maggots! Are you trying to poison me?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Skinner. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re right, Miss Beansprout,” fumed the Head. “It certainly won’t.”
The following Monday Bertie was back in the lunch queue once again. The board with today’s healthy menu had vanished. There was no sign of Miss Beansprout. Mrs Mould was back behind the hatch in her grubby apron. Bertie couldn’t wait. No more yucky beetroot or boring broccoli, he thought, mash and gravy here I come!
Mrs Mould slopped a pile of spaghetti on to his plate. Bertie stared. It was sticky, wriggling and wiggling.
Just like…
He clapped a hand over his mouth and fled from the dining room.
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Eugene.
“Dunno,” shrugged Darren. “I thought he liked wormy spaghetti.”
CHAPTER 1
Bertie was busy working on an experiment in his bedroom. For weeks now he had been collecting the ingredients to make a stink bomb.
Slip! Slop! Bertie gave the ingredients a good stir with a pencil and sniffed the murky brown goo. Not bad, he thought.
It just needed a few more days to get really good and pongy. Bertie couldn’t wait to try out his stink bomb at school. Maybe he could smuggle it into Miss Boot’s desk? Or, better still, splat Know-All Nick on the way home from school. Whiffer padded over and poked his nose into the plastic pot.
“Uh uh. No, Whiffer,” said Bertie. “It’s not for eating.”
Someone was coming. Bertie quickly slammed the lid on the pot and hid it in his bedside cupboard.
Mum poked her head around the door. “Bertie, what are you doing?” she asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” said Bertie. “Just playing.”
Mum sniffed the air. “What’s that funny smell?”
“Smell? I can’t smell anything.”
“It’s disgusting,” said Mum. “It smells like a family of skunks!”
“Does it?” Bertie looked pleased. The stink bomb must be a real humdinger if you could smell it from inside a cupboard. Mum was sniffing round the room trying to detect where the nasty smell was coming from. Bertie knew he’d have to act quickly before she investigated the bedside cupboard.
“PHEW, WHIFFER! Was that you?” he said, holding his nose.
Whiffer wagged his tail.
“That dog,” sighed Mum. She turned back to Bertie. “I
thought I asked you to tidy your room.”
“It is tidy,” replied Bertie.
Mum gave him a withering look. “Bertie! There’s rubbish everywhere!”
Bertie inspected his room. Everything was where it normally was. On the floor.
“I like it like this,” he explained.
“Well, I don’t and I need you to tidy it up,” said Mum. “Suzy’s having a friend for a sleepover tonight.”
“Who?” asked Bertie.
Suzy appeared in the doorway. “Bella,” she said.
Bertie groaned. Not Bossy Bella. Of all Suzy’s friends she was the worst. She would be trying to boss him around all night.
“And they’ll be sleeping in here,” said Mum.
Bertie’s mouth fell open. He felt sick, he felt dizzy. “HERE? In MY ROOM?” he said.
“Yes,” said Mum. “Your room’s much bigger than Suzy’s. We can put up the Z bed.”
“But … but where am I going to sleep?”
“In Suzy’s room.”
“NO!” yelled Bertie.
“NO!” screamed Suzy.
“It’s only for one night,” said Mum.
“I can’t sleep in here. I’ll catch fleas!” grumbled Suzy.
“Nonsense. Bertie’s going to tidy up.”
“Tidy up? It needs disinfecting!” said Suzy. “And what’s that horrible smell?”
Mum pointed at Whiffer. “He needs to go back to the vet’s.”
CHAPTER 2
DING DONG! Bertie could hear voices downstairs. Bossy Bella had arrived.
“Hello, Bella!” said Mum brightly.
Burp! Page 1