by Nigel Smith
“Where’s our free beer and food?” said Dirty McNasty, staggering over. “Only we ain’t eaten since Oslo.”
“Help yourself, boys,” said Mum. Dirty McNasty said, “Thanks,” and gave Mum a shy smile. Nat was amazed.
“Feeding them was one part of the bargain …” Mum said.
“What time are we playing?” said Derek Vomit, in between great greedy mouthfuls of hot roast chicken.
“That was the other part,” said Mum.
Stinky Gibbon was already stalking about on stage. The little jazz band dropped their instruments in terror and ran for it.
A huge black amplifier walked past.
“Hello, Oswald,” said Dad. Oswald just grunted and carried on setting up the gear.
“Be nice, Oswald,” said Mum sternly. Oswald grunted something again. “You have to be firm with him, that’s all,” said Mum.
“Your mum is officially more frightening than Oswald Bagley,” murmured Dad.
Nat chuckled and stuck her tongue out at the Baron and Suspicious Mick and ran happily into the house shouting for Darius to tell him the good news.
After a few minutes of Nat shouting, Darius came trotting downstairs. Nat told him what Mum had done. He didn’t seem surprised.
“I knew it would sort itself out,” he said, “didn’t you? You worry too much, that’s your problem.”
Nat froze. He sounded just like … Dad!
DARIUS BAGLEY WAS SLOWLY TURNING INTO DAD!
AAAARRGH! SHE WAS DOOMED, FOREVER.
“Where’s Gaston?” asked Nat, recovering.
“Hiding somewhere,” said Darius. “After four hours he gets his advanced ninja badge. Right, I’m off to get steak and chicken.” He hurried downstairs, drooling.
Outside, Dad was shouting for her. “Quick,” he said as she came out into the garden, “you won’t want to miss this.”
“Miss what?” “The big moment.
The Poshes,” he said. “I’ve just seen their car. They’re here!”
ad looked like a big daft kid about to get the world’s biggest Christmas present. He pointed to a large sleek car pulling into the driveway. “That’s Posh Barry.”
Nat had to agree that this moment was PERFECT.
“Sorry about the joke, Captain Chaos,” shouted Posh Barry, grinning out of the car window as he pulled up, not looking at the house yet. “Looks like you’re still in one piece, at least.”
“What are all these people doing on our lawn?” shrieked Even Posher Linda from the passenger seat.
“OMG, look, Mummy,” yelled Mimsy from the back seat, pointing at the house. “Look at our house …”
As the Poshes got out of the car, they stared at the beautiful, fairy-tale house, transfixed.
“LIGHTS!” shouted Dad, sounding smug. Someone threw a switch and a big floodlight lit up the restored house.
Posh Barry, Even Posher Linda and spoilt little Mimsy gawped, slack-jawed and open-eyed in wonder.
“FIREWORKS!” ordered Dad, even more smugly.
Fireworks lit up the clear night sky and the once neglected house sparkled in the light of a thousand new stars. Posh Barry looked at Dad in awe. Even Posher Linda wiped away a tear of joy.
“OMG times two,” said Mimsy, “wait till I blog about my super brilliant new house!”
Go for it, thought Nat. Blog away. My dad did that.
A little later Nat stood in the middle of the party looking around in total amazement. Somehow the whole flipping trip had ended in triumph.
The band was rocking. (Mum said she had told them to play proper songs or they wouldn’t get pudding.)
The fireworks were fab.
Darius was safe.
Bad News Nan was fast asleep face down in a chocolate surprise.
The Baron was staring at Darius and hopping up and down in frustration.
Claude was telling Suspicious Mick off, and every so often jabbing him with a fork. On the floor, in bits, lay Mick’s police radio scanner, which Claude had jumped on.
Mum was cuddling Dad, which, OK, was gross, but they looked so happy Nat was prepared to overlook it.
It was amazing, brilliant, no – it was perfect. Just maybe everything she had ever thought about Dad was wrong.
“How does Dad always get away with it, Mum?” asked Nat.
“I have no idea,” said Mum, looking affectionately at daft Dad doing daft-Dad dancing. “I think the world just LIKES an idiot.”
Ten minutes later, Dad blew the house up.
t was the poo that did it.
There are tons of things that explode: fireworks, dynamite, gas cookers, stage flares, petrol, dead whales on beaches, poo.
And ALL of these things (except for the whale) were at the party. All of them COULD have blown up the house, and in fact, they all did play a part in the disaster.
But it was the poo that did it.
Dad – smugger than ever before – had shouted: “ROCKETS!”
And the rockets had risen up into the night sky, filling it with sound and light and colour.
All except for the rocket that shot off sideways towards the house, disappearing into a big hole left by the diggers.
People clapped. Nothing went wrong. Nat was amazed. Dad was getting EVERYTHING right tonight.
And then …
There was a weird kind of loud thump underground, like when a really fat old lady sits on a fluffy cushion. A strange, thin blue flame began twisting ghost-like out of the ground in front of the house. A few people cheered, perhaps thinking it was part of the entertainment.
The plumbers who had worked on the house went pale. “Zat’s gas,” they yelled. “Methane gas – under ze ’ouse.”
“EVERYONE RUN!” one of the workmen shouted. “BUT DO NOT PANIC!” added another, panicking.
As people started dashing about in confusion, Dad asked one of the workmen what was going on.
“Somesink underground is alight,” he said. “It might be ze gas from ze old septic tank. If zere’s been enough poop over ze last two hundred years it could blow.”
“Will there be enough?” asked Dad nervously.
Nat grabbed Dad by the arm urgently. “We’re in France,” she said. “Have you seen how much they eat over here? There’ll be enough gas to blow the house into orbit.”
“This is so cool,” said Darius. “A poo-powered spaceship!” But then his face fell. “Oh,” he said, looking worried.
This made Nat very worried indeed. Darius NEVER EVER LOOKED WORRIED.
“What?” asked Nat, dreading the answer.
“I locked Gaston in the attic,” he said.
“Why did you do that?” shouted Nat, as the blue flame grew bigger. “Did you find out about me telling him about your passport and him dobbing you in to the police?”
“No, just cos he’s annoying.”
“Oh.”
“But thanks for telling me you told on me though.”
“Oh,” said Nat again.
“I’ll get you for that.”
“Never mind me, what about Gaston? We have to get him out. Couldn’t you have just given him like a big Chinese burn or something?”
“Already did,” said Darius.
This was horrible. Over the noise of the partygoers they could hear the Baron calling for his son in the darkness.
Nat rushed over to Dad and gabbled out what had happened.
Then Dad did something amazing. His usual daft expression vanished and he ran to the house. It was too dangerous to go through the front door – blue flames were all around it.
“Claude,” Dad shouted to the policeman, who was organising the mass exit. “Someone’s trapped in the house. Get a ladder, now.”
Dad meant business. Claude nodded, running back with a massive steel ladder the workmen had left. He and Dad hauled it over under the attic window.
“Hurry, Ivor,” said Mum anxiously.
“Hold the ladder tight,” said Dad. Claude saluted. Dad climbed up the ladder q
uickly, and smashed his way into the attic window.
“Be careful, Dad!” shouted Nat.
Posh Barry and Even Posher Linda ran over. “What’s that fool doing now?” said Even Posher Linda. Then more quietly, “I hope he’s going to pay for that broken window.”
“You’ve got five seconds to get out of my sight,” growled Mum. Even Posher Linda backed away.
Mimsy held up her phone. “This is amazing,” said Mimsy. “I’m going to film it all for my blog.”
By now the Baron had joined the crowd.
“What is going on?” he said.
Someone shouted, “It’s the Baron’s boy. He’s trapped in the house!”
“My boy …” said the Baron, immediately charging at the house and bursting through the crowd.
“Get back,” shouted Claude from the house, but the Baron ignored him.
“That’s my son up there!” he said.
Mum ran out and rugby-tackled the Baron to the ground. “It’s too dangerous,” she said, holding him down firmly. “Just wait here.”
Darius looked at Nat, indicating Mum. “Definitely a secret agent,” he whispered.
The Baron struggled. “He’s all I’ve got,” he said desperately. “Please save him!”
“Ivor will get him out, don’t worry,” said Mum. But Nat saw the worry on her face.
Nat stared at the house in fear. Blue flames flickered higher and higher, and awful cracking sounds came from under the house, but there was still no sign of Dad or Gaston.
Then, after an eternity of waiting, Nat saw a movement.
“He’s coming out!” shouted Nat. And it was true. Dad was clambering out of the window and down the ladder, carrying the wriggling Gaston over his shoulder.
“Is he all right?” shouted the Baron. Mum released him and Dad dumped the boy on the grass at his feet.
“Thank you,” said the Baron, who was pale with relief. He picked his son up. “My boy, are you OK?”
“I’m fine, Papa,” said Gaston, smiling up at his dad.
Nat threw herself into Dad’s arms. “That was the most stupid thing you’ve ever done,” she said, pulling away and hitting him. Then she smiled and squeezed him tight again. “You’re – you’re amazing.”
The Baron couldn’t stop hugging his boy, and kissing the top of his head. Nat recognised the look on the boy’s face – it was embarrassment! But she could tell he liked it too.
And then there was a horrible CRUMP from deep under the foundations of the house and everyone watched in horror as all the windows rattled and the walls shook and there was a terrible groaning and a fearful cracking …
… and the house started sinking.
“I did not see that coming,” said Darius, impressed.
Down, down sank the house, straight down into the huge hole that was opening up beneath it.
“It must be a fault,” said Mum.
“Yes,” said Nat. “Dad’s fault.”
“No, I mean the explosion must have triggered a fault underground.” Mum paused and thought a while. “But yes, it’s obviously your dad’s fault.”
A huge cloud of dust and smoke poured from the yawning hole, making everyone cough and splutter. The smoke was lit by tongues of red and blue flame. It reminded Nat of the famous bargain with the devil.
“You might have been right about that deal with Oswald Bagley,” said Mum, reading Nat’s mind.
A minute later, it was all over. The house was gone, swallowed by the smoking earth.
Dad put a comforting arm round Posh Barry, who was too shocked to speak.
“You know how you said you wanted a swimming pool?” said Dad. “Well, you’ve got the hole.”
t worked out all right in the end. Turns out the world does love an idiot, after all.
Obviously there was a lot of shouting and wailing to get through first, but Nat was used to that; it wasn’t unusual at the end of one of Dad’s disasters.
The Baron offered to buy the land and the sunken house and turn it into a new duck pond and boating lake for Gaston. Barry and Linda quickly agreed, grabbed the cash, and Mimsy and went online to look for swanky modern flats near a beach somewhere.
The villagers all said it was the greatest party of all time and made Dad promise to do it again. Just not any time soon, please.
Gaston was happy to be alive and said thank you to Dad for saving him and thank you to Darius for locking him in the attic. After his rescue, he explained, his Papa was being very nice to him. He wrote Nat a letter to say thank you, and some others things, which Nat thought were VERY embarrassing, but she kept the letter anyway.
Mum was happy because it turned out she’d married a bit of a hero after all. His heroic rescue was even online – Mimsy posted the whole video on her blog.
Dad was happy that he’d proved he could fix a house without killing himself, like he promised.
“You’re right, love,” said Mum, “and you never promised you wouldn’t reduce it to a buried, smoking pile of rubble after you fixed it.”
Nat was happy that Dad was forced to promise never EVER to pick up a tool again. “Stick to writing Christmas cracker jokes,” said Mum. “They’re not very good but at least no one gets blown up.”
Darius was happy that he’d doubled his collection of rude words and could now be offensive in TWO languages.
Bad News Nan was grumpy at first because she’d slept through most of the action in some kind of chocolate pudding-induced coma. But that gave her something to moan about, so in the end even she was happy, on the whole.
Dad had even made Rocky happy. They got a note saying Rocky was going to find his family and say sorry for being such a rubbish dad – he said it was his “biggest challenge yet”. Nat reckoned his biggest challenge would be stopping his kids thinking he was a total idiot, but agreed it was nice that he was making the effort.
The next day, Mum bought plane tickets back home for her, Nat, Darius and Nan.
“But the kids will want to come back with me in the Atomic Dustbin, surely?” Dad had argued. “We had fun getting here.”
“You can have too MUCH fun, Dad,” said Nat, with a smile.
At the airport, Dad kissed Nat and Mum goodbye. He ruffled Darius’s hair and then quickly wiped his hand on the back of his trousers.
“Me and the Dog will be back home in a couple of days,” he said, as they checked in. The Dog woofed in agreement.
“Yeah, right,” said Nat to Mum, watching her daft dad waving them off, with a mixture of regret and relief. “I bet it takes him weeks.”
She was right.
re you sure no one’s going to see this video?” asked Penny Posnitch doubtfully.
“I’m not an idiot,” said Nat, “I’m not my dad.”
“Will you hurry up, my arms are getting tired,” complained Darius.
“Just hold the camera straight and press the record button when I tell you,” begged Nat.
The three of them were in her back garden. It was a lovely warm afternoon during the school holidays. The sun shone, the flowers were out, Dad was upstairs trying to write Christmas cracker jokes and shouting rude words at his laptop and Nathalia and Penny were making a dance video.
The dance video was going very badly.
And so was Dad’s joke writing. Every so often they would hear him yell: “Oh heck, that’s not funny. I’m doomed!”
“I wonder if he needs a hand,” said Darius, putting the camera down. “I’ve got a great joke about a monkey who needs to go to the toilet.”
“The ‘monkey who needs to go to the toilet’ joke is not a joke anyone wants to hear while they’re eating their Christmas pudding,” said Nathalia. “Can we please do our dance video?”
“I want to hear the monkey joke,” said Penny.
Nat started hopping up and down. “Aw, come on guys – I’ve been trying to make this video all morning, pleeease concentrate.”
“I only came round to show Nat the new ‘Dinky Blue, Girl Guru’
episode online,” grumbled Penny.
“She’s rubbish,” said Darius, making sick noises, “you should watch ‘Doom Ninja Pete’ instead. He blew up a pig last week.”
“That’s disgusting,” said Penny, who was an animal lover.
Darius started doing his impression of a pig blowing up in slow motion, right up until the point when Nathalia ran over and started throttling him.
“Pick-up-the-camera-and-film-us-doing-the-dance …”
“OK,” he squawked.
“Now, play the song on the phone.”
“I can’t remember the dance move after the song goes: ‘Baby baby oooh baby’,” said Penny.
“Which ‘Baby baby ooh baby’?” said Nat. “She sings ‘Baby baby oooh baby’ about a ZILLION times. The song is CALLED ‘Baby baby oooh baby’.”
“Er – the first time,” said Penny.
“That’s the START of the song!” shouted Nat, in growing frustration. “I’ve showed you the moves about a thousand million billion times at least and I’m not even exaggerating. What is the matter with you? It’s step left, arms cross, turn arms up, bend, slide and wiggle. Got it?”
“You’re not a very good dance teacher,” said Penny, “you’re always shouting.”
“That’s how good dance teachers teach dance!” shouted Nat.
“Do you want me to film this bit?” said Darius, filming this bit.
“Of course I don’t want you to film this bit. Stop filming this bit,” said Nat, her long blonde hair flying out at all angles.
“When I saw Flora Marling’s dance video there was no one shouting,” said Penny, in a sulky tone.
“That’s because Flora Marling is flipping perfect – we all know that,” said Nat, “so this dance video has to be better than perfect.”
“You can’t be better than perfect,” corrected Darius, who was filming with one hand while doing something disgusting with the other and his nose.
“I’m not doing anything while he’s doing THAT,” said Penny, pulling a face.
Eventually, Nat got Penny to concentrate and Darius to wash his hands and after a few more shouty rehearsals, she and Penny were doing the dance.
Nat was especially proud of a new move she had invented called the Prancing Pony. It was super tricky and Penny had already got it wrong once and ended up in a hedge.