style="font-size:15px;"> I Future-Ratboy-speed-dialled the number and Darren’s pocket started to ring. ‘Darrenofski residence,’ he said, clicking a button halfway up his earphone wire.
‘Er . . . what in the unkeelness are you
doing here, Dazzoid?’ I said into my
phone.
56
Darren took a slurp on his Fronkle and
burped again. ‘Oh nothing, I was just
passing . . .’ he said, looking a teeny
weeny bit shifty-wifty, and I wondered
if he’d been wandering around Mogden
all on his own, hoping to bump into
someone to play it keel with.
57
You know how Desmond had been
screaming from Darren’s burp going
up his nostrils? Well that was still
happening.
‘Don’t cry, Dezzy,’ said Nancy, reaching
into Desmond’s car seat and pulling out
his cuddly toy clown.
58
Desmond stopped screaming and
reached out for his clown. ‘Cwowny!’
he gurgled, trying to say its name,
which is ‘Clowny Wowny’, the loserest
name ever.
‘Hewwo, my name is Clowny Wowny!’
said Nancy to Desmond, doing her
Clowny Wowny impression, and I rolled
the two eyeball-shaped gobstoppers in
my pocket, which I’d brought along to
keep me company on Mogden Island.
59
Clowny Wowny is the loserish clown
character that all the kiddywinkles
watch on TV these days. All that
happens in a whole episode is that
Clowny Wowny wobbles around in his
stupid giant clown shoes, falling over
stuff and doing blowoffs.
‘I can’t believe the rubbish they put on
TV these days, Donald,’ I said to Bunky.
‘I know, Donald, it’s not like when we
were kids,’ Bunky said, doing a back-
to-front-reverse-upside-down-salute,
which is what Future Ratboy does when
he’s agreeing with someone.
60
I looked at my two best friends and
waggled my favourite eyebrow, and
my least favourite one too. ‘Come
with me, PLEEEASE?’ I whimpered,
missing them both already, even
though they were standing in front
of my eyebrows.
‘I’m sorry, Barry, we’re just too old for
Pirate Camp . . .’ said Nancy, peering
down at the floor.
61
‘Plus we’re going on a Poo Tour with
Nancy’s dad today!’ said Bunky. ‘We
were just about to come round yours
and tell you when you drove past!’
I rewound my brain to them standing
outside their houses, talking to Mr
Verkenwerken. ‘A Poo Tour?’ I cried.
‘What in the unkeelness is that?’
62
‘It’s where Mr Verkenwerken walks us
round the countryside, pointing out all
the different animals’ poos!’ sniggled
Bunky, as Nancy took her glasses off.
‘It’s more of a NATURE tour really,’ she
said, cleaning them on her skirt. ‘My
dad just calls it a Poo Tour to get
people like you and Bunky interested.
We mostly walk around looking at
flowers and insects and stuff . . .’
‘AND POO!’ shouted Bunky, and I fast-
forwarded my brain to how keel the
Poo Tour was going to be. Not that I
was going to be on it.
63
Darren put his hand on my shoulder
and took another slurp of Fronkle.
‘Don’t worry, Loser, I’ll take your
place!’ he burped, and I shrugged his
hand off and turned to face the
pier, where the captain was waiting.
‘All aboard for Mogden Island!’
he boomed.
64
‘All aboard for Mogden Island!’ boomed the captain again, and I wondered if he just liked saying it, seeing as it was only me and the little girl from my school
getting on, and we’d both comperleeterly
heard
