Great Britain 2016
by Jelly Pie an imprint of Egmont UK Ltd
The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN
Text and illustration copyright © Jim Smith 2016
The moral rights of the author-illustrator have been asserted.
ISBN 978 1 4052 6914 8
eISBN 978 1 7803 1432 7
barryloser.com www.jellypiecentral.co.uk www.egmont.co.uk
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
Printed and bound in Great Britain by the CPI Group
56629/1
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It was the first Sunday of half term
and I was sitting in my sitting room
watching Future Ratboy with my best
friends, Bunky and Nancy Verkenwerken.
5
‘This is gonna be the keelest half
term EVER!’ I said.
‘Keel’ is how Future Ratboy, my
favourite TV superhero, says
‘cool’, in case you didn’t know.
6
‘YEAH!’ said Bunky, who’s sort of like
Future Ratboy’s sidekick, Not Bird,
except he’s not a bird. ‘I’m SO glad
we don’t have to go to babyish old
Pirate Camp any more!’
‘Me too!’ I said. ‘Pirate Camp
is for BABIES!’
7
Pirate Camp is the holiday camp that
me, Bunky and Nancy used to go to
every half term when we were
younger. It’s sort of like a nursery for
kiddywinkles, except it’s on Mogden
Island, which is an island in the middle
of Mogden Lake.
It’s owned by an unbelievakeely old
man called Burt Barnacle, who dresses
up as a pirate and goes on about
treasure the whole time.
8
He says there’s a whole chest of it,
buried somewhere on the island.
Not that we ever found any when
we were there.
9
‘I mean, who wants to sit around a
campfire singing songs about trees for
a whole week?’ said Bunky, waggling his
hands in the air, which is how he does
his impression of a tree.
‘YE-AH! Singing songs about trees is for
KIDDYWINKLES!’ I said, remembering
sitting round the campfire at Pirate
Camp with Bunky and Nancy, singing
about trees.
10
Sitting round a campfire singing about
trees wasn’t the only thing we did at
Pirate Camp, by the way. There was
also pirate face-painting, pirate
raft-making, lying under Burt’s giant
skull-and-crossbones parachute while
he whooshed it up and down, and
listening to him tell super-spookoid
ghost stories before we went to sleep
in our tents at night.
11
I was just realising that I actukeely
quite liked some of the stuff we got
up to at Pirate Camp when my mum
walked into the room carrying a
plateful of Feeko’s chocolate digestive
biscuits and three cans of Fronkle.
‘Here you go, kiddywinkles!’ she said,
ruffling my hair.
12
‘MU-UM! We’re not KIDDYWINKLES
any more!’ I said, sliding a biscuit off
the plate and slotting it into my
mouth.
‘Apologies for my mother,’ I said to
Bunky and Nancy, and they both
