id="ud6a3457b-1fca-5d5c-98f1-31a3489e524c">
The Clumsies
make a mess of the Big Show
By Sorrel Anderson
Illustrated by Nicola Slater
For Sausage
The Clumsies Make a Mess
The Clumsies Make a Mess of the Seaside
Contents
Trolley
Uncle Gillian
The Big Show Part 1
The Big Show Part 2
Copyright
About the Publisher
‘Extraordinary,’ he muttered.
‘What is?’ asked Purvis.
‘Must have gone mad,’ he muttered.
‘Who must?’ asked Purvis.
‘It’s over,’ he muttered, ‘and I should know, I had to work right through it. We don’t need one now. Especially not one that looks like that.’
‘Ggntgggdgng
gggtggggddggt?’
said Mickey Thompson, with his mouth full of banana.
‘Eh?’ said Howard.
‘He said what don’t we need one of that looks like what?’ explained Purvis.
‘Ygsh,’ confirmed Mickey Thompson.
‘Tut,’ said Howard. ‘Don’t speak with your mouth full, Mickey Thompson.’
‘Shggyg,’ said Mickey Thompson, adding a spoonful of egg.
‘So what is it we don’t we need one of that looks like something?’ asked Purvis.
‘A Christmas tree,’ said Howard. ‘It’s the middle of January! The time for Christmas trees has been and gone, butMr Bullerton’s just put one up in the foyer.’’
‘Whosha
ggmshggggmshgg?’
crunched Mickey Thompson.
‘What did I just say?’ said Howard, brushing toast crumbs off his face.
‘G-gumf,’ swallowed Mickey Thompson.
‘What’s a Christmas tree?’
‘Well. . . you know,’ said Howard.
‘No, we don’t,’ said the mice.
‘Well, it’s. . . it’s. . . ’ Howard fluttered his hands up and down. The mice stared at him, uncomprehendingly.
‘It’s a tree,’ said Howard. ‘That you have at Christmas time.’
The mice stared at him, baffledly.
‘And you decorate it with lights and stars and fairies and stuff,’ said Howard.
Purvis and Mickey Thompson started bouncing and squeaking.
‘And then you take it down again,’ said Howard, ‘which is part of the point. Stop that – it goes right through my head.’
‘Can you take us to see it?’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘Can you? Can you?’
‘I expect so,’ sighed Howard. ‘As long as you’re quiet.’
‘When?’ said Purvis. ‘Wh— Oh!’
‘What?’ said Howard.
‘Post!’ said Purvis, and the Clumsies dived under the desk. There was a clacketty, rattley noise out in the corridor and the postman arrived, pushing a trolley piled high with post.
‘Delivery for Howard Armitage!’ announced the postman, coming in with a large box. ‘It’s work. From Mr Bullerton.’
‘Marvellous,’ said Howard.
‘He said to say you’re to do it straight away.’
‘Wonderful,’ said Howard.
‘It gets better,’ said the postman, going out and coming in again with another large box. And another. And another. And another.
