My Brother's Famous Bottom Gets Pinched

by Jeremy Strong

  You see, my baby brother Cheese has got the most famous bottom in the country. At least that’s what my dad says. You know that advert on television for Dumpers disposable nappies? And you know that little baby you see crawling across the floor in the advert, wiggling his bare bum? That’s Cheese – my little brother! He even got on the TV news once. Millions of viewers saw him.

  Dad watched proudly as Cheese wriggled across the floor. ‘That’s my boy! What a bottom! Of course, he gets his good looks from his father.’

  ‘Ron, all you can see is his bottom,’ Mum answered, slapping a clean nappy on Cheese’s rear end and letting him wander off again.

  ‘That’s what I mean,’ Dad nodded. ‘I have a lovely bottom too.’

  ‘I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,’ sighed Mum. ‘Can we talk about something else,

  please?’

  ‘Poo!’ shouted Tomato, because it’s about the only word she knows.

  ‘No,’ said Mum. ‘Not poo. I’ve told you before, Tomato. It’s not polite. Goodness gracious, all we ever seem to talk about in this house nowadays is poo and bottoms. I’m fed up with it all.’

  ‘Bottoms are very important,’ announced Dad seriously.

  ‘No they’re not.’

  ‘Oh yes. If you didn’t have a bottom your legs would have nothing to join on to. So, no bottom means no legs either. Where would you be then? You wouldn’t be able to walk. You’d have to get round some other way. I’ve got it! If you ate enough beans you could produce enough downward air thrust to turn yourself into a hovercraft. It might be a bit whiffy that’s all.’

  ‘I’m not listening to any more of your revolting conversation, Ron. Do talk about something normal just for once, please – and Nicholas, Cheese is trying to escape upstairs again. Go and get him before he falls.’

  I launched yet another Search and Rescue Operation on Cheese. He’s always vanishing off somewhere, especially now that he’s toddling. Tomato is too, but Cheese is the quickest. He can do nought-to-waddle-speed in two seconds flat.

  Lancelot wanted to know if Cheese would have to sign autographs. Mum laughed.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Lance, he’s one and a half. He’s nowhere near writing yet.’

  Dad beamed. ‘There’s more than one way to leave an autograph. He could leave his mark some other way.’

  Mum eyed Dad warily. ‘I know I shall be very sorry I asked this, but just what did you have in mind?’

  ‘He could do a wee on a nappy, or a –’

  ‘NO, RON! NO WAY! I knew you’d come up with something foul. You are a revolting, disgusting man who should be shut away in a very tall tower for umpteen years and only fed with raw potatoes and rice pudding.’

  ‘I don’t like rice pudding,’ said Dad.

  ‘You’re not supposed to like it. That’s your punishment for being so disgusting.’

  ‘Huh! Well, I think rice pudding is a lot more disgusting than Cheese’s –’

  ‘RON!’ bellowed Mum. Dad looked at me and winked. I couldn’t help smiling back at him.

  ‘And you’re just as bad, Nicholas. Don’t encourage your father.’ Mum turned on Granny. ‘It’s your fault. He’s your son. It was the way you brought him up.’

  ‘Oh no, dear,’ protested Granny. ‘Don’t blame me. He fell on his head when he was two. He’s never been the same since. Besides, you did marry him. You didn’t have to.’

  ‘I didn’t realize what a weird family he came from,’ Mum said darkly. Dad went across to her and draped one arm round her shoulders.

  ‘You should be proud. We all should. We have produced a superstar son, or at least a super-bottom, and I think that’s wonderful, don’t you?’

  Mum softened. She smiled. ‘Of course I do,

  you daft doughnut.’ She leaned closer, puckered her lips and planted a noisy kiss on his mouth.

  I pulled a face. ‘Mum? Dad? Do you have to? I’m only eleven. You shouldn’t do that until after nine o’clock at night.’

  Everyone stopped and looked at me, even Cheese and Tomato. Mum and Dad chorused, ‘Ooooooh!’

  ‘Poo!’ went Tomato, and I nodded.

  ‘Exactly. That’s just what I think too.’

  3 A Life of Luxury

  We’re on the road! It’s brilliant, apart from Dad’s endless singing. I’ve lost count of the times he’s been through ‘The Wheels on the Bus’. Then he started on ‘Ten Green Bottles’ which he soon turned into ‘Ten Dirty Nappies’.

  The tour bus is fantastic. It’s got a big television and also DVD players built into the backs of seats. There’s even a shower and toilet, and a mini-kitchen. You could live on board if you wanted to. Just think, you could go anywhere in the world and you’d have your house with you. And I haven’t even told you the most astonishing thing about it. There’s a secret room! You press a button and a big section slides out from one side of the tour bus and creates an extra room. Amazing! And then you press another button and the outer wall rolls up into the roof, so the room turns into a kind of stage.

  ‘That’s where we do the roadshow from,’ Mr Dumper explained.

  ‘Cool!’

  Dad agreed. ‘Yeah, cool, man,’ he said, holding out his hand to me. ‘Give me six!’

  ‘Um, it’s five,’ I muttered.

  ‘I know,’ he blustered. ‘But this tour bus is cooler than cool, so it’s gone up to six. OK?’

  We were on the tour bus for hours and I was just beginning to get bored when we arrived at our first hotel. I’ve never been in a hotel before. I thought we’d be in bedrooms next to each other, but Mr Dumper had booked a suite for us, which is like having your own miniature house. It’s got three bedrooms, a bathroom and a living room. There’s a fridge full of chocolate and drinks and stuff. When we first walked in there was a bottle of champagne sticking out of an ice bucket.

  ‘Ooh la la!’ cried Dad, pulling it from the bucket.

  ‘Poo la la!’ copied Tomato.

  ‘Hmmm. I’m not sure Poo la la has quite the same ring to it,’ muttered Mum.

  I don’t think Dad has opened many champagne bottles. He struggled furiously, gripping it between his thighs, twisting and yanking and grunting away like a gorilla with bellyache.

  ‘Try undoing the wire round it,’ suggested Mum.

  ‘Oh. Yes. Good idea.’

  He got the wire off and then began twisting and yanking all over again. ‘It’s no good. It’s not going to –’

  BANG!

  The cork exploded out of the bottle, hit the ceiling, ricocheted off, hit the opposite wall, went whizzing off and hit a big display of flowers on the table. They crashed over and water flooded the floor. While we all stood and stared at that the champagne foamed out of the bottle and started a bubble flood of its own.

  ‘What?’ said Dad, looking at Mum, who was giving him one of her ‘Why did I ever marry you?’ looks.

  ‘I didn’t say a word,’ murmured Mum.

  We all had a glass of champagne, apart from Cheese and Tomato, of course, who are too young. Mind you, it didn’t stop Cheese from toddling over to the mini champagne flood. He paddled in it a bit, then sat down, dabbed his fingers in and sucked them. Yuk!

  I only had half a glass but it was great. The bubbles go right up your nose – at least mine did and I spluttered them back into the glass.

  ‘You’re not supposed to sniff it,’ Mum laughed.

  ‘Couldn’t help it.’

  ‘Hey, come in here!’ called Dad from the bathroom and we went in to see what he was up to. You should see our bathroom – it’s gigantic. It’s about three times as big as our front room at home. The bath is right in the middle, just standing there on four fat metal lion’s feet. There’s a giant silver shower head hanging above it. Dad was already trying out the tub, lying back in it with all his clothes on.

  Mum looked around and fingered the thick white towels. ‘It’s no wonder some rich people spend their lives living in hotels. If I were rich enough, I think I might. This
is complete luxury.’

  Dad clicked his fingers at her. ‘Slave – scrub my back,’ he ordered. Mum looked down at him and her eyes glinted.

  ‘I wonder what this tap does?’ she hinted.

  ‘No, you wouldn’t, don’t you dare, if you turn that tap on I’ll – aaaaargh!’

  It was the shower, and the water was cold. Mum Smiled sweetly at him. ‘Oh, so that’s what that tap does. It makes you jump. And very wet.’

  Dad stood up, dripping with water. ‘I shall get you for this,’ he said, stepping out of the bath and moving towards her.

  ‘Ron, no, keep away, don’t you dare touch me – you’re soaking. Ron, don’t come any closer or I’ll scream. Eeeeeeee!’

  Dad grabbed Mum round the waist and gave her the biggest hug he could, while she struggled and squirmed.

  ‘Urrgh, you’re all wet!’ she complained. I thought it was hilarious until I realized that they’d stopped fighting each other and were looking at me.

  ‘He’s laughing at us,’ said Mum.

  ‘And he’s dry’ added Dad. ‘Come on!’

  And the next thing I knew I was being hugged between them, so I got wet too. Then David Dumper came in to see us.

  ‘You know, usually, people get undressed before they have a shower,’ he said, eyeing our wet clothes.

  ‘Ah, so that’s what we did wrong,’ Dad answered.

  ‘I came in to remind you it’s the first show tomorrow, so I’ll see you at breakfast, eight o’clock sharp.’

  I was quite glad to get to bed in the end. It had been a long day, and quite an exciting one. I wish you could have seen my bed. It was almost as big as the whole of my bedroom at home. There was a chocolate on my pillow too, a really nice one. I asked Mum and Dad if they’d put it there, but no, it was something the hotel did to welcome their guests. I could really get used to this life of luxury!

  4 The Big Babies

  What a day! It’s been really weird. We got invaded by giant babies. We did! There were three of them, two men and a woman. They were wearing giant throwaway nappies and had dummies stuck in their mouths. They made such a fuss it was a bit scary actually. Everyone was

  shouting and rushing about. Cheese and Tomato started crying and the audience began to boo.

  We were doing our first show. Mr Dumper had parked the Flying Dumper in the market square. There was quite a crowd gathered by the tour bus, waiting to see what was going on. Mr Dumper made several announcements over the loudspeakers.

  ‘See the most famous bottom in the world – on show in ten minutes’ time!’

  Another one was: ‘Try the new range of fabulous Dumper disposable nappies – Bumper Dumpers, for the more active child!’

  And after that: ‘You’ve seen him on TV you’ve seen him on the news – now see him for real – the star of the show – Cheese and his fabulous bottom – the world’s number one bum!’

  ‘That’s pushing it a bit, isn’t it?’ complained Dad. ‘What about my bum? It isn’t at all bad, you know.’

  Mum punched him. I don’t mean she knocked him out – it was a play punch. ‘You don’t like it when Cheese gets all the attention. You want to be the star, don’t you?’

  Dad shrugged and pretended he didn’t care. ‘I’m just saying that other people have nice bottoms too. I have always thought yours is lovely for example.’

  ‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ blushed Mum. ‘What about poor Tomato? Her bottom is just as nice as Cheese’s but she’s never given a chance. Nicholas, pass me that Bumper Dumper nappy, will you? I’ve got to get Cheese ready for the show.’

  ‘Will we be on stage too?’ I asked. I was beginning to think like Mum and Dad. Cheese got all the attention. What about the rest of us? We’re a family – there are five of us – seven if you count Granny and Lancelot. But it’s Cheese this and Cheese that. He even gets fan mail. He’s a year and a half old, and he gets fan mail! This came the other day. Finn? That’s a boy’s name, isn’t it? Anyhow, Cheese gets loads of stuff like that. Most are from kids but he gets mail from old ladies too. Sometimes they send photos of themselves. It’s a strange world!

  The rest of the family get left out. I know it’s kind of David Dumper to take the whole family with him and pay for everything, but it’s only Cheese that goes on stage, and all he ever does is crawl around a bit and show his bottom from time to time. How can you be famous for something like that?

  So I was getting a bit fed up and then it was time for Cheese to strut his stuff and Mr Dumper took him on stage. The crowd screamed and yelled as if Cheese was a pop star. Mr Dumper began to tell the crowd about the new range of nappies and how wonderful they were and that was when we got invaded by the giant babies.

  I have no idea where they came from but suddenly they were rushing across the stage, shouting and waving big placards.

  ‘What’s going on?’ shouted Dad, picking Cheese up to protect him.

  ‘No idea!’ Mr Dumper yelled back, just as the microphone was yanked from his hand by one of the giant babies, who now began bellowing at the crowd.

  ‘Over eight million nappies are thrown away every day! Each nappy takes five hundred years to decompose. That’s Bad News for Planet Earth. Use your common sense and put natural nappies on your baby – nappies that can be washed and used again. Join the eco-revolution. Save the world and use natural nappies. We are the Natural Nappy Freedom Front – double N, double F!’

  ‘You mean double daft!’ yelled the crowd. ‘Get off and go home to your cots, you big babies!’

  ‘Someone call the police. They should be locked up.’

  And then they were gone. They leaped down from the stage and vanished almost as quickly as they’d arrived. I caught a glimpse of them a few seconds later making their escape, on skateboards.

  For a few moments everyone was quiet as they gathered their senses. Then a chant went up. ‘We want Cheese! We want more Cheese!’

  ‘And you shall have more Cheese!’ roared Mr Dumper triumphantly as he held my little brother above his head. And you know what? Mr Dumper sold every single one of his new disposable nappies. The Double N Double F had done a fat lot of good. What a trio of twits.

  On the way back to the hotel I asked Dad if throwaway nappies really did take five hundred years to decompose.

  ‘No. It’s actually five hundred and seven, plus a few days.’

  ‘I’m being serious, Dad.’

  ‘No good asking me then,’ he admitted.

  I tried Mr Dumper and he shook his head a couple of times. ‘I have no idea, Nicholas, but every single one of my new nappies got sold. What a fantastic day!’

  I sat back in my seat. What did the giant baby say? Eight million nappies a day taking five hundred years to decompose. Was that really true? It didn’t sound particularly fantastic to me.

  5 Today Will Be Squidgy

  When we got to the hotel there was an argument taking place at Reception. It was difficult to hear what was going on because four of the quarrellers were dogs. It’s true – there were four tiny dogs, and though they were small they made as much noise as a monkey house. They yapped and yipped and kept jumping up and down on the end of their leads as if their legs were mini pogo sticks. They had glittery collars and were busily leaping over each other and tying themselves up in knots.

  ‘My dogs go everywhere with me,’ the woman shouted. ‘They always have a bed to sleep in. I want a room with two beds, one for me and one for my poochypoos.’

  ‘I’m sorry, madam,’ said the receptionist. ‘We don’t allow dogs on the beds.’

  ‘Are you suggesting my dogs are dirty?’ the woman snapped back, and so it went on.

  Mum bent down and whispered in my ear. ‘I’m sure I know that woman, Nicholas. Isn’t she on television?’

  I looked harder. Yes, Mum was right, but who was it? I tried to squeeze the answer out of my brain.

  ‘Are you all right, Nick?’ asked Dad. ‘Have you got a headache?’

  ‘Dad, I’m th
inking.’

  ‘Oh. Is that what thinking looks like?’

  ‘I know who it is! It’s Kristal Gaze, the astrologer. You know, Mum – Star Daze, with Kristal Gaze – the one where she looks at your star sign and says what’s going to happen to you.’

  ‘So it is. Well, I forecast that the poor receptionist is going to have a bad day today. Just listen to that woman – and those dogs.’

  They were making an awful fuss. ‘I insist my dogs have a bed,’ yelled Kristal, leaning right across the counter to snarl at the receptionist. ‘I know your type. You’re Scorpio, aren’t you? Born to cause trouble, that’s what. You can’t possibly be helpful, can you? All I want is a bed for my dogs. And a ground-floor room with a view of the river.’

  The receptionist turned white. ‘I’m sorry, madam, but there isn’t a river.’

  ‘THEN GET ONE IMMEDIATELY!’ roared Kristal.

  Dad muttered to us. ‘The woman’s barking mad.’

  ‘It’s the dogs that are barking, Dad.’

  ‘Ha ha. I hope our room isn’t anywhere near hers.’

  We couldn’t tear ourselves away. It was both horrible and fascinating at the same time. Kristal Gaze was doing a very good imitation of Mr Tugg moving towards the earthquake stage.

  ‘Listen to me, you silly girl, my horoscope says I must sleep near running water. It helps to clean the spirit channels and, good grief, my spirit channels are going to need a sea-going dredger to clean them after this.’

  ‘I’m ever so sorry, madam, but there is no river. You could leave your bath tap running instead.’

  Kristal Gaze swung round and gazed in despair at the other people waiting in Reception. ‘Run the bath tap? The woman’s an idiot.’ She turned back to the poor receptionist, who was almost in tears. ‘Get me the manager. I insist on speaking to the manager.’