The Mousehunter

And so one of the stories on here has now been magically whizzed up, shook around and stretched into a book. It's called The Mousehunter, is published by Faber and Faber, and is out now in all good shops. It will also be out soon in America - published by Little, Brown!

Out of little acorns grow BIG MICE, or so they say...

The Annual Giant Rolling Festival

Each summer on the mountainous island of Domdrum, giants from all over the world congregate to take part in the annual Giant Rolling Festival. A time-honoured tradition, the festival involves hundreds of giants rolling sideways down the mountains and scoring points for each tree, boulder and house they knock down along the way. There are occasional injuries, occasional deaths – usually of flattened human spectators who fail to heed the safety warnings – and also occasional landslides.

Sometimes the scores become so huge that the giant referees lose track of who’s winning and fights break out among the entrants. It’s all deemed to be part of the fun, however, and it would ruin the event if such exchanges were banned.

The prize is the same every year – a small plaque made from the first tree felled in the original Giant Rolling Festival, which took place 386 years ago. Despite such a paltry prize, the competition is taken incredibly seriously, and is now sponsored by the Wigglywam Bank – a sure sign of its popularity.

Tickets are now available for next year’s festival, including two nights’ free camping, at a price of three-gold pieces. Book early to avoid disappointment.

How to deal with giants

There was a strange glow to the town of Grimple. It had always been there – at least ever since the fabulously overweight giant Bilderbung was sick over it after eating a rancid whale. But these were the things towns had to cope with if they lived in close harmony with giants. Other places hadn’t fared so well, however.

It’s possibly best not to mention what happened to the small village of Worlington when it came into contact with the notoriously incontinent giant Agretha. And the city of Glump vanished forever when Plompey the Great suffered from a week long bout of the runs.

But Grimple survived Bilderbung’s bilious onslaught and soon became a popular tourist destination. Its pink dayglo look is now a particular favouite with party-goers the world over, and is renowned as the dance capital of the world.

So if a giant ever chooses your home town to ruin, don’t worry. There are always ways of making the best of a situation.

That Flaming Flower!

That stinky flower with untold power,
Has splattered me in its guff,
I ponk of socks, old rusty locks -
A dash of lemon puff.

No-one’s come near, my smell’s too queer
My friends don’t say hello.
That flaming flower, I need to shower,
It’s really not B O…

…honest!

Old Hokey's gone missing

I'm just posting a message concerning the disappearance of Old Hokey. It's been a few months now since she was last seen wandering the globe. In the note she left at her house, she commented on a major new undertaking that had consumed her attention. i can only assume she's working on some sort of full-blown masterpiece, and needed some ideas and inspiration.

I'll get back to you the moment I hear of her return.

The Winter Wilders

Snow started to fall on Tumbleton Moor. It was a beautiful yet quiet place when the world turned white. Walls and hedgerows vanished into the landscape, and the small town of Tumbleton bolted its doors and retreated into its secure and warm indoors.

At this time of year the Wilders were about. They roamed the land, looking for any food they could find. A long time ago, the townsfolk invited the creatures into their homes to sit out the cold winter, but no-one realised the trouble they'd cause. The Wilders' huge feet trampled through rooms, devastating belongings and people's houses.

Never again were they let in from the cold, and to make sure they came nowhere near, the people would build huge beasts out of the snow to scare them away.

This year, however, a small girl watched through a frosted window as the Wilders skulked past in the distance. All she could see was their silhouettes on the dull grey horizon. She thought it very sad that they had to stay out in the cold.

So she decided not to listen to her parents and go and ask them to come inside. Maybe they'd learnt their lesson by now.

The girl wrapped up warm, with at least four layers of clothes, three pairs of gloves and two warm, bobbly hats. And of course, she had untold numbers of socks inside her shoes. Once your feet get cold, they stay cold.

She trudged through the snow with a small lamp lighting her way. It wasn't long before she found large footprints trailing away into the night, and when she came across the Wilders they were all huddled in a small hole, waiting for day to break.

The girl pulled out some oaty biscuits and handed them to the Wilders.
'Please come with me,' she said, ' you can keep warm and eat as much as you like'.

The Wilders looked at one another, all feeling the cold snow beneath them. They realised it was an option they couldn't refuse, and eventually trekked back to Tumbleton with the girl.

She pleaded with the Wilders to be good, and they decided it would be for the best.

When they reached her home, and after a few strong words from her very worried parents, all of them settled down in front of the blazing fire. The Wilders proved that they could be good, and they were aloud to come back every year.

The girl passed around warming drinks and roasted nuts, and they all felt very happy. It was nice to put bad feelings behind them, and they knew that Christmas this year was going to be very special indeed.

The Magic Weed

I once grew a weed with magical powers,
That wriggled around when I tickled its flowers.
When I pulled off its leaves it let out a scream,
And grumbled and growled as I ate it with cream

Ordinary Heroes of the World

I found this book in my attic last week. I hadn't seen it for ages, and I thought it might be nice to share some of the entries.

1. Mildred the Fish Dangler

Mildred's job was to hold a dead fish in the air. It was a well-known tool for forecasting the weather, and the job required him to stand on the outskirts of town, day in, day out, charting the fish's response to the elements.

Because of Mildred's dedication to his cause, many sailors' lives were saved

The Ghost Ship

I suppose you might expect me to be rather old. And I am, of course. I'm at that point where my age defines how people respond to me rather than my personality. But neither you nor me know how old I am – or maybe I just prefer to forget.

Yesterday, I watched as a boat sailed from my neighbour's house.

It was early in the morning. I'd got up to watch the sun rise, and from the window, beyond the overgrown hedges and the weed-ridden path, I gazed at the ramshackle boat. Mr Greenly had been a sailor in his early years: he sailed the seventeen seas and visited all the wonderful lands you only hear about in stories.

His boat had been sat there, slowly rotting, ever since I'd lived here. It was a splendid little craft, although it was no longer fit for sailing. Holes were eaten into its hull, ivy creeped over its side, and a small family of nuthatches lived in its bow. You could tell from its shape and build that it had once been capable of marvellous things. It had survived many a beating, and I knew it had kept Mr Greenly safe through untold storms.

And that morning, as I sat and watched the glowing horizon, I saw the boat fizzle with a blue light, and a ghost ship lifted from the crumbling wreck. I sat transfixed at this strange sight. Suddenly, there was a sailor aboard the boat, a sail aboard its deck. And it moved. Drifting through the undergrowth, this boat was free. Its age and condition no longer held it to the earth. It drifted, slowly at first, but then its sails caught the wind and it sped off into the distance.

I learnt that Mr Greenly had died during that night. I hadn't spoken to him for a week or so, but whenever we bumped into each other, we'd talk and discuss the weather. You seem to do this more as you grow old, although Mr Greenly was more in tune with the elements than most. That following day had proved fine and clear, with a strong southerly wind. Mr Greenly had chosen his sailing conditions well.

There must have been wonderful stories and tales that sailed away that morning. I know I should have asked him more when I had the chance.

Old Hokey

Well I thought I'd show you a picture of me drawn by my wonderful friend Milagro. He sat and drew it while we were making the most of a terrifically snowy afternoon - hence my scarf, hat and deliciously warm coat. I think he captures my shape perfectly.

Milagro does take on portraits if anyone is interested. He charges a small fee, but I think it's worth it for his talent – he certainly knows how to capture people in their best light.

Captain Mousebeard of the Silver Shark

In my younger days I travelled the globe - something I'll tell you about in due course, no doubt - but I thought I'd tell you about Captain Mousebeard, who helped me return home. We both survived a harrowing experience, and only for his bravery did I arrive in one piece.

Mousebeard was a stout fellow and the typical seafaring type: swoarthy skin, muscly arms, thick jumpers, and of course, he was the very proud owner of a large bushy beard (in which he kept a family of very well-behaved mice).

Our paths crossed while he was searching for the rare Long-eared Mouse of Shubana Island. I was living on the island, passing my time while waiting for a boat to take me home, and I just so happened to know where he could find one. So we came to an arrangement: in return for the mouse, he would offer me safe passage home.

His ship, the Silver Shark, was a stunning vessel, painted brightly with a sneering fanged shark's mouth at its bow. It was quite a sight to see resting at port, but when you were on it and felt it cutting the waves in two, it was beyond belief.

We'd sailed for two days before things started to go awry. Up to that point I'd been revelling in the salty air and the firm breezes as they directed us home. It was a grand way to travel, but on that third night we hit a storm front scudding across the sea towards us. The waves lifted into the air, the peaks and troughs grew so large that the Silver Shark neared vertical as it rode the seas.

Mousebeard lashed himself to the main mast and called his shipmates to lower the sails. Waves crashed into the boat, water drenched the decks, and many times were we soaked through. And just when we thought things couldn't get worse, Mousebeard felt his beard tugging. He looked down into his bundle of hair, and noticed something writhing and growing. Suddenly, out jumped the Long-eared Mouse. It's body was contorting, twisting and growing on the salty, waterlogged planks.

Mousebeard called out in distress to his sailors, as he picked up the mouse and tossed it into the foaming sea. Everyone surged below decks in fear of their lives, leaving only Mousebeard to man the wheel. All the while, the waves and storm continued to batter the boat. I shut myself inside, and watched through a window as a gigantic spinning hole appeared before the ship. This was no ordinary whirlpool.

With a deafening, piercing scream a serpent rose from the depths and towered into the air. It was the mythical Spearhorned Grak. I could see Mousebeard lurch back at the sight, for it was well known that you never live to tell the tale of the Grak. Instead, whispers of your demise get washed ashore with the wreck of your ship.

But the Captain wasn't one to let a monster get the better of him. He turned the wheel sharply and caught the edge of the whirlpool. The ship sped up and circled round at breakneck speed. And then, before the spear of the beast could impale the Silver Shark, Mousebeard veered out of the swirling maelstrom and rocketed the ship out of the sea as if from a slingshot.

It felt as though the ship was airborne for minutes, as all of the shipmates' lives flashed before their eyes. We landed a fair distance from the Grak, bursting through a wall-like wave and into a patch of calm. The brief glimpse of blue sky gave the sailors hope, and once again they rushed onto deck to sail the craft through the storm.

Thankfully, we made it home safely, and that was all the excitement we had for that voyage. I guess we learned the hard way that Long-eared Mice and salt water don't mix, but it's safe to say that no-one had expected the mythical Spearhorned Grak to be born of such tiny stock.

Captain Mousebeard is now remembered as a true hero for his deeds, and because of his warnings, mousehunters like him are forever wary and careful as they search lands for new breeds.

King Kandoo's lost dubloons

King Kandoo of Kakdungdoo
Has lost his gold dubloons
He's left them in a little box
With knives and forks and spoons.

The little box has ornate trim
And gold encrusted handles
And little gems that line two holes
For sweetly scented candles

So if you see this little box
You'll find yourself a winner
For though King Kandoo needs no cash,
He still can't eat his dinner.

The Fisherman of the Clouds

I've spent many hours of my life searching for lost things. Books, keys, pens, everything and anything has seemed to go missing at some point in its life. Now I'm not superstitious, but when people lose things at the same time, then something odd is happening.

This story is about a strange occurence that had everyone in the land completely at a loss

If my memory serves me correct, it all took place one desperately cold winter. Icicles hung from overhanging rooves, the sky bubbled and rippled with grey clouds, and every tree lay barren and tipped with snow. Suffice to say, it was a cold time, and chimneys were constantly frothing with the smoke of fires.

One morning, people woke to see trees and plants gone from their gardens. Mr Bumbling noticed his birdbath had vanished, Elsie Crowbar realised her shed had disappeared, and the Greenwing Stables found that all their horses had gone. Once word got round, it came to light that everyone had lost something or other. Whether it was a small conifer from someone's border or a very expensive statue of Otto the Great, it was very much a cause for concern.

The following morning everyone woke to find even more things had been stolen. But this time it wasn't just from outside: paintings had vanished from walls, cakes no longer sat on the kitchen table, armchairs were conspicuous by their absence. Poor old Dennis Drewshank woke up with frostbite as his roof had mysteriously left the building. This situation couldn't go on any longer.

It was decided that everyone would stay awake that night to catch the thief. As the sun set, people readied themselves; torches were at the ready and eyes were pinned wide open.

In the dark of the night the crook was caught. But not easily.

It took someone with very keen eyesight to notice that a thin, hook-ended wire kept descending from the sky to make off with whatever it caught. And it took a very clever person to catch whoever it was doing it. Panker Tankhurst had a brainwave: she sat on her garden bench just as the wire descended, hooked it onto the arm and was dragged into the sky.

She slowly rose. Luckily she wrapped up warm, as the higher she went, the colder it got. She could see fires in living rooms burning brightly below, and the land looked beautiful. Eventually she felt the clouds on her face and everything went dark. She was still rising, slightly slower now, but she knew she was almost there. And then, suddenly, she burst out into the open air, the nighttime sky shining brilliantly above her. And in front of her, almost eye to eye, she saw the thief, hovering in a puffy little cloud.

He wasn't much to look at; a small man, wrapped up in scarves and mittens, and in his hand was a giant fishing rod - to which Panker's chair was attached and dangling. A look of shock passed over his face. He was caught!

He made a smile, expressed deep apologies for taking people's belongings, and shot off in his cloud, Panker in tow, to the peak of a mountain that breached the cloud cover. The mountain was bejewlled with trees, and the thief came to rest in a large cave adorned with all the rich pickings he'd stolen from the land below.

Panker was impressed, and distressed, at the sight. As amazing as his home was, he had no reason to go around stealing things, and she made absolutely sure that she told him so. He apologised profusely and explained that he only meant to take a few trees, but the urge got the better of him and soon he couldn't stop himself.

He was eager to give everyone back their belongings, and within a week he'd gone to every house distributing goods. To each thing he stole he attached a note saying sorry and promised never to do it again. He even replaced Dennis Drewshank's roof, to much applause at his skill and dexterity with a fishing rod. The people struck up a friendship with the man, and whenever any help was needed when pruning tall trees or mending chimneystack, they knew who to call.

And that Christmas, when everyone rose from their peaceful night's slumber, people found stockings filled with sparkling silver stars resting in front of their fireplaces. No-one was fully sure where they came from, but they all had a good idea.

The Bog Thief

The village of Great Mingus, situated close to the Grunting river, had a very special toilet. It wasn't simply a hole in the ground, nor was it a little shed with running water. The hallowed lavatory was a spectacular wooden tower that rose high into the sky. The building's stench carried for miles, but it was an honour to live in its ponky path.

Since the founding of the village, every inhabitant had used this toilet. As such it was considered a sacred place where people could mingle with the voices of the past. Kings, queens, grandparents, pets; if you could name them then you knew they'd been there.

One night however, right underneath the village's nose, the much worshipped toilet was stolen. It had been cleanly plucked from the ground, and all that was left was an immense, empty pit. Where had it gone? What foul thing had stolen thousands of years of foulness?

The villagers were up in arms and crossed in legs. But something had to be done. Snout McMurdoch had the answer. His nose was the most sensitive in the land, and he knew he could follow the smell trail until it revealed the thief.

And so he set off on his journey. Over mountains and across oceans, he followed the wafting ponk until he finally came upon the toilet.

Snout McMurdoch was distraught at the sight. The once towering lavatory was smashed into millions of pieces and spread over a huge field. And there, stood raking the mess was a huge beast. It had dense brown fur, and on its wrinkled bear-like head, huge ears and eyes shone forth. It's massive bulging arms rippled with muscles as it ploughed the land.

'What have you done?' said Snout. 'You've demolished our past and
stolen the most wonderful relic of our village!'

'You didn't need it!' it growled. 'Such wonderful muck shall grow my crops to untold heights. I admit, I maybe should have asked, but what were you going to use it for?'

Snout thought hard about this. After all, the toilet wasn't the only place where all the village's population had been: there was the village itself. That was the best memorial of all.

But what would the villagers say if he came home empty handed? He tried to reach a compromise with the beast.

'Maybe if you helped us build a new lavatory that we could all enjoy together, things would be alright?'

The beast thought hard about this and then arrived at an even better solution.

'I'll help you build your toilet, and I'll even bring you gigantic vegetables when they grow. But in return you must let me use your waste as fertiliser each year,' it said.

Snout agreed, and when he returned to Great Mingus, the whole village agreed too. It turned into a wonderful partnership, and the village never went without vegetables ever again.

Mrs Fluffbin's Earwax

Have you ever had the sort of earwax that looks like an animal when you pull it from your ear? I admit it's a rare occurence for most, but Mrs Fluffbin made a living from it.

It all started one dark evening in November, as Mrs Fluffbin's family was huddled around the fire. In a fit of spontaneity, she pulled a great lump of earwax from her – admittedly extremely large – ear. She placed it on the table and asked the question:

'And what animal is this?

'A giraffe!' shouted her children.

And again Mrs Fluffbin delved deep within her ear and withdrew another clump of wax.

'And what animal is this?' she asked again.

'It's a Bob-bob!' they replied.

This marvellous game continued into the night. Even Mrs Fluffbin was amazed by the level of earwax residing in her head. But then, in a fine stroke of enterprise, she came up with a brilliant idea that would make her fortune.

With the help of Peculiar Pam, a very fine, if slightly colourful witch, she would be able to bring these wax creatures to life. Put them in a box, stick on a label and there you have it – Fluffbin's Waximals, the new craze on the block.

It didn't take long for Mrs Fluffbin to produce a whole menagerie of Waximals: there were ducks, monsters, rhinos – everything you could dream of and more. And with the aid of her whole family, who made and painted the boxes, and of course, Peculiar Pam, who cast the lovely little spell of life – and who got a tidy cut from the profits – the range soon hit the shops.

Waxanimals were an instant hit and flew of the shelves. And in the case of the bird models they really did fly from the shelves, but that was considered part of their charm and made them very rare collectors' items.

And so, the best lesson to learn from this is to make use of all your talents, no matter how strange.

Oh, and if any of you out there have the Bumbly Giganticus Waximal, I would consider trading it either for money, or with my second Blunderbuss Duck figurine. One's noisy enough, and I know how rare these things are. Now you know where to contact me if you come across one...

Old Hokey's Field Guide (part 3)

So here it comes, the nastiest most horrible creature ever (well sort of).

1. The Bob-bob

No, not this one. This is possibly the most harmless water bird you'll ever get the pleasure to meet. A very sweet and loving animal, it gets its name from the bobbing motion of its head as it sifts through the water and mud looking for food.

2. The Lesser-spotted Trundlewhoop

And this one isn't it either. The Lesser-spotted Trundlewhoop, however, is a peculiar bird that has great difficulty in getting airborn. They can be quite vicious when in a group, especially if you laugh at their pathetic attempts to fly. They're known to spit and curse like a coven of rabid witches, and can give you quite a fright if caught unawares. As its name suggests, this bird is quite rare in these parts, although you might have seen its close relative, the Very Frequently Spotted Trundlewhoop, grazing in a field near you.

3. The Shifty Skood

This one really isn't that nasty at all, although it does look quite furtive, as it's name suggests. The Shifty Skood is an odd creature, that's often seen lurking in shadows or hiding in the backgrounds of photos. These unfortunate creatures always look like they're up to no good, when in fact they're probably just out for a morning stroll. The Skood's great beak signifies its relationship to the common owl, and it's possibly because of this that it lacks the intelligence to change people's view of it. I'm sure they'd make nice friends given half the chance.

4. The Scabbitt

And here is the nastiest creature I've ever laid eyes on. The Scabbitt - horrible, horrible creature. If you ever find one of these lounging in your living room, be prepared to consider it as not your living room any more. This nasty beast will wait till you leave the house and then rearrange your furniture to disorientate you. They bite things, chew them up and then vomit it all out again, while burping, farting and generally being a great big nuisance. And boy, will it eat you out of house and home.

So how do you rid yourself of them? Scabbitt traps. Big, hefty and very sharp Scabbitt traps. And there can be nothing in this world that will make you happier than catching this little monster...

Mr Fenfang's Arms

I used to have difficulty keeping up with shoe sizes when my feet grew, as I always found my big toe poked through the side of my shoes before they were done. but they were nothing to what Mr Fenfang had to deal with.

Mr Fenfang had a most unusual feature: his arms. Ever since he was little his arms had grown at twice the rate of the rest of his body. And when that stopped growing, his arms decided they'd carry on doing what they do best.

His arms were nearing a mile long by his 20th birthday, and as he reached 30, his arms rested at a grand 3 miles in length. This clearly posed problems, especially when it came to eating and drinking. Free space was also a matter of concern, and he had to wrap his arms in loops and leave them outside most days.

Mr Fenfang found it very easy to visit the local shop without leaving his home. His arms took a long time to unwind and make their way there however, yet Ms Fellaway, the shopkeeper, was always happy to answer a well-written shopping list. But one moonlit night, he found the shop firmly closed.

All he needed was a candle to light up his home, but there wasn't one to be found anywhere. Mr Fenfang hated to sit in the dark, and a rather radical idea came to him.

He dragged himself out into the night, and let his arms unfurl like fresh fronds of fern. And then, looking up to the sky, he stretched right up until his fingers touched the surface of the moon. It wasn't as big as everyone had thought, and it certainly wasn't made of cheese. With a bit of a pull, Mr Fenfang brough it down to earth and placed it directly behind his house.

The light that shone out from it was blinding, and that night Mr Fenfang certainly didn't want for candles.

The next morning, people in the nearby towns and villages couldn't understand why the land was shrouded in darkness. And then they looked to the horizon and saw the moon sat behind Mr Fenfang's house. Immediately, a large rabble of people headed over to see Mr Fenfang and let him know what a preposterous idea it was to steal the moon for his own personal use.

He failed to agree, but with a bit of persuasion, Mr Fenfang decided it might be best for all if he put the moon back. He had to use both hands, as it felt a little heavier than the previous night, but once it was back in the sky, everyone could rest easy again.

Old Hokey's Field Guide (part 2)

Here are some more oddities of the natural world. I've tried to include a few of the nastier creatures in this part, although I'll save THE nastiest, foulest, most ugliest creature for next time.

1. Dragonsheep

This is one animal to stay clear of. Despite Dragonsheep being the proud owners of flame-repellent wool, which makes for excellent oven gloves, they can wreak utter havoc. They are capable of breathing fire up to distances of thirty feet, and a herd can decimate a forest in no time at all. Very exciting creatures, but potentially lethal

2. The Giant's Handkerchief Tree

Much recognised and oft mis-represented, the Giant's Handkerchief Tree grows exceptionally large leaves. It has been supposed throughout history that its leaves were used by giants to blow their noses – hence the tree's close relationship with snot puffballs. The likelihood of this is actually very slim, although the leaves are very useful and make excellent kites.

3. The Duck-faced Booby

A most odd seabird, the Duck-faced Booby has the body of a small seagull and the face of a common duck. They live in colonies on small rocky islands, and make the peculiar noise of 'quackeeeee'. They are very susceptible to predators, as they aren't the cleverest of birds. Very cute though.

4. Flickering Firebugs

These interesting creatures lead a very brief life. As soon as they crawl from the pupa, they react with the air and burst into flames. Be careful not to hang out your washing early in Summer, as you'll likely find it covered in small burn holes when you bring it back in again. They do look lovely, however, as they flicker away in the twilight.

5. Tortoise Andronicus

These warrior tortoises are best left to their own devices. If you catch them herding on mountain tops, you can be sure that a battle is about to start. I know little else about them, I'm afraid, but just beware their over-enlarged front claws that give a nasty scratch.

Old Hokey's Field Guide (part 1)

You get lots of strange creatures and plants round here. Not your usual kettle of fish or punnet of strawberries, and i thought it might be nice to note them down.

1. The Floppy Jowled Flem Fox

It's noted that this animal is often heard rather than seen, for people regularly hear it snorting and croaking as it makes it's way through the night. It can be quite aggresive if you do bump into it, despite the fact that the picture makes it look friendly (I'm afraid my drawing skills fail to capture his true nature!).

2. The Blunderbuss Duck

One of my favourites in the animal kingdom. This very large-mouthed duck quacks so loudly that you can hear it up to four miles away. Thankfully, they like to live alone, but if you do ever see a number of them together remember to put on your ear muffs!

3. The Two-headed Monster Flax

A giant among plants, the Monster Flax towers above almost every other bit of flora on the planet. Interestingly enough, if you let the flowers dry out, they make excellent high-rise houses.

4. Bumbly Giganticus

And wherever you find a Monster Flax you'll find this humungous insect. No-one has ever found a hive, but it is well known that the Bumbly Giganticus crosses oceans and continents in its search for nectar. It is best to stay clear of these creatures, and you get prior warning by hearing the deafening drone of its wings. Rest assured though, that despite the fact that it could easily squash your house if it came to rest on it, Bumbly Giganticus would never have meant you harm. They are usually very gentle and lovely creatures, and should be respected and most of all admired for the good work they do.

Munchbean and the caterpillars

I must thank my friend Vanita van Tito for this tale. Unluckily for her she was a victim to this terrible scam while on her travels, and still bears the scars to prove it. It took her a long time to be happy sitting under a tree again, I can tell you.

Munchbean was a monkey, and a mischievous little fellow at the best of times. He lived in a tree, which sat out alone in the middle of a forest clearing. As with most other trees, Munchbean's was home to a whole host of creatures. In particular, it was host to a huge family of Fidgety Grubs. These little black caterpillars are covered in prickly spikes, and despite having quite a pleasant demeanour, they do like to munch on everything and anything. And Munchbean had learnt how to train them.

In fact, he'd devised a little plan. His tree was a regular stopping place for weary travellers, and with the caterpillars at his disposal, he'd found a way to launch an ambush. A bit like a monkey highwayman, you could say.

One afternoon, at about half-past three, a traveller came by the tree and took shelter under it's outstretched branches. As he was gently drifting to sleep, he heard a crack, and woke abruptly. He looked up to see a swarm of black prickly caterpillars launch themselves at him. They nipped and bit as he was overwhelmed by their number. And then Munchbean dropped to the ground!

"Give me all your money and I'll call them off!" he shouted.

The traveller searched his pockets and withdrew his money purse. The monkey took it gleefully and told the caterpillars to leave him alone. The traveller took flight immediately, nursing all the small bites that covered his arms.

These shenanigans happened many times to unfortunate passers-by, until, by Royal decree, a search party was sent out to ambush the ambusher.

Lady Ermine Ramsbottom led the party, and formed the bait. She sat underneath the tree and waited, fully protected by armour-plated longjohns and undergarments. As the caterpillars dropped down, she sat quietly, happy to let the caterpillars chew to no avail. And then she waited for Munchbean to show his face. Eventually he landed, and as if by magic three huge armed guards jumped out and seized him.

The ambush was a success, and Munchbean's threat to all travellers was extinguished. However, Lady Ermine was in awe of Munchbean's prowess with controlling the Fidgety Grubs, and asked for clemency from the Queen. Munchbean was only a monkey, after all, and after paying back his stolen money to the travellers twice over, he was ordered to set up a travelling caterpillar circus.

And so it was that Munchbean's Peculiarly Fidgety Circus became a huge success. He travelled the world to packed audiences, who were totally in awe of the death-defying stunts. Of particular note was his Caterpillar Wheel of Death, which held everyone in a state of disbelief.

If only you could have seen that act!