first packet, handed them around to the others and then took one for herself.
Eating the first biscuit out of a fresh packet was a serious ritual for Nanny Piggins. First, she held the biscuit to her nose. It smelled good – buttery and sweet. Next, she held the biscuit to the light to inspect the colour – a perfect golden brown. And finally, she held the biscuit to her mouth and shoved in the whole thing, in one gulp.
Normally at this point she would moan with pleasure. But not this time.
‘Noooooo!’ screamed Nanny Piggins, biscuit crumbs flying out from her mouth in all directions.She then leapt up and threw herself over the coffee table, scattering the biscuits all over the floor.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Derrick.
‘Don’t eat another bite!’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins.
‘Why?’ asked Samantha, starting to feel worried because she had just swallowed rather a large bite.
‘Are they poisoned?’ asked Boris.
‘Are they disgusting?’ asked Michael.
‘Do you want them all to yourself?’ asked Samantha.
‘No. Much, much worse than all that. They’re stolen!’ proclaimed Nanny Piggins.
The others stared at Nanny Piggins in horror.
‘How can you tell?’ asked Derrick.
‘Taste them!’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘I thought you didn’t want us to have another bite?’ said Michael, who wanted a bite but did not want his nanny to yell at him.
‘You can have just one bite,’ conceded Nanny Piggins.
The children each took a bite of their biscuits. It tasted like biscuit to them. Very good biscuit, but biscuit nonetheless. But then they did not know what stolen property tasted like.
It was Boris who recognised it instantly. Assoon as the first cookie crumbs touched his tastebuds he was spitting them back out across the room and screaming, ‘You’re right! Definitely stolen!’
‘You see,’ said Nanny Piggins, who enjoyed being correct.
‘So you’re saying that girl broke into some one’s house and stole all these biscuits?’ asked Derrick. (He did not realise his nanny had such a good sense of taste.)
‘No, I’m saying she stole them from my family,’ said Nanny Piggins.
Now the children were really confused.
‘These are my great-great-grandmother’s biscuits,’ explained Nanny Piggins.
‘But surely they’d be past their used-by date,’ said Michael as he read the back of one of the packets.
‘No, I mean it is my great-great-grandmother’s recipe,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘Oh,’ said the children as they finally started to catch on.
‘But are you absolutely sure?’ asked Derrick. ‘I mean, biscuits all taste much the same.’
Nanny Piggins gripped the sofa and stared at Derrick in horror. ‘Derrick,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘you are lucky I don’t believe in soap. Because Ihave never felt the urge to wash your mouth out as strongly as I do now.’
‘Sorry,’ said Derrick, realising he had just said something terribly offensive.
Boris patted Nanny Piggins’ hand soothingly as she struggled to contain her emotions. ‘Every biscuit in the world is unique,’ Boris explained to the children. ‘The ratio of sugar to flour to butter to nutmeg – it’s as unique as DNA in humans.’
‘More unique!’ declared Nanny Piggins. ‘No-one has ever adequately explained to me how identical twins work.’
‘True,’ said Boris, nodding.
‘There is no doubt about it,’ said Nanny Piggins, sniffing another biscuit. ‘This is Great-Great-Granny Piggins’ biscuit. How else could it be so delicious?’
And so, while Nanny Piggins, Boris and the children thoroughly checked all the biscuits (by eating them), she came up with a plan. ‘I need to infiltrate the Buzzy Bees,’ decided Nanny Piggins.
‘Couldn’t you just report them to the police?’ suggested Samantha reasonably.
‘This is too serious a matter for the police,’ said Nanny Piggins unreasonably. ‘It’s not enough to just lock them up in jail for ever and ever. We needto find out how they stole the
Eating the first biscuit out of a fresh packet was a serious ritual for Nanny Piggins. First, she held the biscuit to her nose. It smelled good – buttery and sweet. Next, she held the biscuit to the light to inspect the colour – a perfect golden brown. And finally, she held the biscuit to her mouth and shoved in the whole thing, in one gulp.
Normally at this point she would moan with pleasure. But not this time.
‘Noooooo!’ screamed Nanny Piggins, biscuit crumbs flying out from her mouth in all directions.She then leapt up and threw herself over the coffee table, scattering the biscuits all over the floor.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Derrick.
‘Don’t eat another bite!’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins.
‘Why?’ asked Samantha, starting to feel worried because she had just swallowed rather a large bite.
‘Are they poisoned?’ asked Boris.
‘Are they disgusting?’ asked Michael.
‘Do you want them all to yourself?’ asked Samantha.
‘No. Much, much worse than all that. They’re stolen!’ proclaimed Nanny Piggins.
The others stared at Nanny Piggins in horror.
‘How can you tell?’ asked Derrick.
‘Taste them!’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘I thought you didn’t want us to have another bite?’ said Michael, who wanted a bite but did not want his nanny to yell at him.
‘You can have just one bite,’ conceded Nanny Piggins.
The children each took a bite of their biscuits. It tasted like biscuit to them. Very good biscuit, but biscuit nonetheless. But then they did not know what stolen property tasted like.
It was Boris who recognised it instantly. Assoon as the first cookie crumbs touched his tastebuds he was spitting them back out across the room and screaming, ‘You’re right! Definitely stolen!’
‘You see,’ said Nanny Piggins, who enjoyed being correct.
‘So you’re saying that girl broke into some one’s house and stole all these biscuits?’ asked Derrick. (He did not realise his nanny had such a good sense of taste.)
‘No, I’m saying she stole them from my family,’ said Nanny Piggins.
Now the children were really confused.
‘These are my great-great-grandmother’s biscuits,’ explained Nanny Piggins.
‘But surely they’d be past their used-by date,’ said Michael as he read the back of one of the packets.
‘No, I mean it is my great-great-grandmother’s recipe,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘Oh,’ said the children as they finally started to catch on.
‘But are you absolutely sure?’ asked Derrick. ‘I mean, biscuits all taste much the same.’
Nanny Piggins gripped the sofa and stared at Derrick in horror. ‘Derrick,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘you are lucky I don’t believe in soap. Because Ihave never felt the urge to wash your mouth out as strongly as I do now.’
‘Sorry,’ said Derrick, realising he had just said something terribly offensive.
Boris patted Nanny Piggins’ hand soothingly as she struggled to contain her emotions. ‘Every biscuit in the world is unique,’ Boris explained to the children. ‘The ratio of sugar to flour to butter to nutmeg – it’s as unique as DNA in humans.’
‘More unique!’ declared Nanny Piggins. ‘No-one has ever adequately explained to me how identical twins work.’
‘True,’ said Boris, nodding.
‘There is no doubt about it,’ said Nanny Piggins, sniffing another biscuit. ‘This is Great-Great-Granny Piggins’ biscuit. How else could it be so delicious?’
And so, while Nanny Piggins, Boris and the children thoroughly checked all the biscuits (by eating them), she came up with a plan. ‘I need to infiltrate the Buzzy Bees,’ decided Nanny Piggins.
‘Couldn’t you just report them to the police?’ suggested Samantha reasonably.
‘This is too serious a matter for the police,’ said Nanny Piggins unreasonably. ‘It’s not enough to just lock them up in jail for ever and ever. We needto find out how they stole the
Similar Books
