as you promise not to tell Nanny Piggins. You see the Retired Army Colonel was so desperately in love with Nanny Piggins that he really wanted to impress her. In the past he had tried to catch her attention by arranging aeronautical acrobatic displays over her house and military brass bands to parade up and down her street. But these attempts had gone largely unnoticed. So the Colonel, being a brilliant strategic thinker, had decided to change tactics.
He decided to play Nanny Piggins at her own game. Having never cooked anything in his life, he now embarked on teaching himself how to bake a cake. Unfortunately, it had all gone horribly wrong when he turned his cake mixer up too high, and egg whites had flown out all over his kitchen, causing him to slip on the linoleum and fall down his back stairs, breaking both legs. (The whole incident hadonly given him an even greater admiration for Nanny Piggins because he knew she baked cakes every day, sometimes several times a day, and rarely broke any of her own limbs in the process.)
‘But how did you get all the materials?’ asked Nanny Piggins, looking around at the huge sheets of canvas, welding gear and C4 explosives.
‘A dear lady and a true friend,’ said the Colonel. ‘Mrs Simpson.’
‘Our Mrs Simpson?!’ exclaimed Samantha.
‘The one who lives next door?!’ exclaimed Michael.
‘And always gives us marshmallows, even if Nanny Piggins has been sending us over to raid her larder when she’s lying down taking a nap?!’ exclaimed Derrick.
‘That’s the one,’ agreed the Colonel. ‘Quite a lady.’
‘But where did she get it all from?’ marvelled Nanny Piggins.
‘Well, she borrowed the canvas by cutting down one of the sails from a yacht at the harbour and she got the sticks from Mrs Lau’s tomato patch,’ explained the Colonel.
‘What about the C4?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘I believe she plays bridge with a lady whose husband is very big in the mining industry, andthey did a swap for Mrs Simpson’s dolmades recipe,’ explained the Colonel.
‘Samantha, make a note to speak to Mrs Simpson next time we need high explosives,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘But how did you end up in here?’ asked Michael.
‘The hospital arranged it,’ explained the Colonel. ‘I was hopped up on painkillers and couldn’t fight them. Well, I tried fighting them, but the head nurse got cross when I put her in a headlock. Anyway, they said I couldn’t go home on my own because there was no-one to look after me.’
‘We would have looked after you!’ protested Nanny Piggins.
‘That’s what I said,’ agreed the Colonel, ‘but they thought my stories of a glamorous accomplished flying pig swooping in to look after me were the product of my concussed mind, so they just upped my medication and dumped me here.’
‘That’s dreadful,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘Not as dreadful as the food they serve here,’ said the Colonel. ‘You know I was a prisoner of war, and let me tell you the cockroaches I ate then were better and more nutritious than the meals we’re served here.’
‘Not for much longer,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I’m not having elderly people re-inventing da Vinci’s flying machines, robbing banks and catatonically staring into space on my watch. I’m going to do something about it.’
‘But Nanny Piggins, remember you’re here to do community service,’ said Samantha. ‘You’re not going to do something that gets you in even more trouble, are you?’
‘Some things are worth risking your personal liberty for,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Freedom of speech, freedom to vote, and freedom to not eat really horrible food. In fact, if you’ve got good food you don’t really need freedom of speech and voting rights. Which is why all sensible dictators hand out chocolate brownies if they want to maintain their evil regimes.’
As Nanny Piggins and the children made their way back downstairs they began to hear the rumble of noise.
‘What’s
He decided to play Nanny Piggins at her own game. Having never cooked anything in his life, he now embarked on teaching himself how to bake a cake. Unfortunately, it had all gone horribly wrong when he turned his cake mixer up too high, and egg whites had flown out all over his kitchen, causing him to slip on the linoleum and fall down his back stairs, breaking both legs. (The whole incident hadonly given him an even greater admiration for Nanny Piggins because he knew she baked cakes every day, sometimes several times a day, and rarely broke any of her own limbs in the process.)
‘But how did you get all the materials?’ asked Nanny Piggins, looking around at the huge sheets of canvas, welding gear and C4 explosives.
‘A dear lady and a true friend,’ said the Colonel. ‘Mrs Simpson.’
‘Our Mrs Simpson?!’ exclaimed Samantha.
‘The one who lives next door?!’ exclaimed Michael.
‘And always gives us marshmallows, even if Nanny Piggins has been sending us over to raid her larder when she’s lying down taking a nap?!’ exclaimed Derrick.
‘That’s the one,’ agreed the Colonel. ‘Quite a lady.’
‘But where did she get it all from?’ marvelled Nanny Piggins.
‘Well, she borrowed the canvas by cutting down one of the sails from a yacht at the harbour and she got the sticks from Mrs Lau’s tomato patch,’ explained the Colonel.
‘What about the C4?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘I believe she plays bridge with a lady whose husband is very big in the mining industry, andthey did a swap for Mrs Simpson’s dolmades recipe,’ explained the Colonel.
‘Samantha, make a note to speak to Mrs Simpson next time we need high explosives,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘But how did you end up in here?’ asked Michael.
‘The hospital arranged it,’ explained the Colonel. ‘I was hopped up on painkillers and couldn’t fight them. Well, I tried fighting them, but the head nurse got cross when I put her in a headlock. Anyway, they said I couldn’t go home on my own because there was no-one to look after me.’
‘We would have looked after you!’ protested Nanny Piggins.
‘That’s what I said,’ agreed the Colonel, ‘but they thought my stories of a glamorous accomplished flying pig swooping in to look after me were the product of my concussed mind, so they just upped my medication and dumped me here.’
‘That’s dreadful,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘Not as dreadful as the food they serve here,’ said the Colonel. ‘You know I was a prisoner of war, and let me tell you the cockroaches I ate then were better and more nutritious than the meals we’re served here.’
‘Not for much longer,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I’m not having elderly people re-inventing da Vinci’s flying machines, robbing banks and catatonically staring into space on my watch. I’m going to do something about it.’
‘But Nanny Piggins, remember you’re here to do community service,’ said Samantha. ‘You’re not going to do something that gets you in even more trouble, are you?’
‘Some things are worth risking your personal liberty for,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Freedom of speech, freedom to vote, and freedom to not eat really horrible food. In fact, if you’ve got good food you don’t really need freedom of speech and voting rights. Which is why all sensible dictators hand out chocolate brownies if they want to maintain their evil regimes.’
As Nanny Piggins and the children made their way back downstairs they began to hear the rumble of noise.
‘What’s
Similar Books
