Loe raamatut: «What's for Dinner, Mr Gum?»
For Andy, Kathy and Ellie And for Bob, the fattest cat in L.A.
What’s for Dinner Mr Gum? First published 2007 by Egmont UK Limited This edition published 2019 by Egmont UK Limited, The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road London W11 4AN
Text copyright © 2007 Andy Stanton
Illustration copyright © 2007 David Tazzyman
The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted
First e-book edition 2019
ISBN 978 1 4052 9374 7
Ebook ISBN 978 1 4052 5932 3
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
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Read all of Andy Stanton’s books!
You’re a Bad Man, MR GUM!
MR GUM and the Biscuit Billionaire
MR GUM and the Goblins
MR GUM and the Power Crystals
MR GUM and the Dancing Bear
What’s for Dinner, MR GUM?
MR GUM and the Cherry Tree
MR GUM and the Secret Hideout
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication and Copyright page
Front series promotional page
1 Off to the Seaside!
2 Butcher Shop Blues
3 Billy on the Trail
4 Greasy Ian’s House of Slops
5 Billy Sows the Seeds of His Revenge
6 The Incident of Billy and The Flies
7 The Dinnertime Wars
8 The Heroes Return
9 ‘Only Love Can Save Us Now’
10 The Train Down to London
11 Olde London Town
12 Thora Gruntwinkle
13 The Heroes Return. Again. Plus There’s One More of Them This Time
14 The Power of Love
15 All’s Well That Ends Good
What, No Jake the Dog?
Jake Gets a Job
About the Author
About the Illustrator
Praise
Chapter 1 Off to the Seaside!
This is the story of the Battle of Lamonic Bibber, or as it became known, the Dinnertime Wars or, as it didn’t become known, Ghostbusters III. And know this, my friends – it was a terrible conflict indeed. Like all wars it was full of madness and anger. Like all wars there were courageous heroes and dastardly villains. Like practically all wars there was a dirty little monkey called Philip the Horror.
But I know what you’re wondering. You’re wondering how the Dinnertime Wars got started in the first place, aren’t you?
‘How did it all start?’ you say.
‘Where did it begin?’ you ask.
‘What do you mean, a monkey?’ you enquire.
‘Shut up,’ I reply. ‘Stop bothering me with all these questions and I will tell you.’
It all started on a Friday. And not only did it start on a Friday but it started with a Friday – that wonderful old gentleman Friday O’Leary, hero of many an adventure and three times winner of the Lamonic Bibber Women’s Underwater Badminton Championship.
And here’s a quick word from Friday himself:
‘BREADBIN’
Thanks, Friday.
But hey now, hey now, don’t dream it’s over. This story doesn’t just start with Friday O’Leary. Because along with him were his good friends Polly and Alan Taylor.
Now, Polly was a little girl with the sort of sandy-coloured hair that makes you happy to be alive and the sort of heart-coloured heart which is so brave it would fight a lion if that lion happened to deserve it. For instance, if he had been trying to rob pencils. Polly was only nine but she was a hero through and through.
And as for Alan Taylor, he was a gingerbread man with electric muscles and he was 16.24cm tall because he’d grown a centimetre since the last book he was in.
‘Maybe I’ll grow into a real man one day,’ he was fond of saying. But that was impossible.
Or was it?
Yes.
But never mind. For the most part, Alan Taylor was a jolly little twinkle and girls liked him because he was cute and they could dress him up like a doll and make him do tea parties.
‘Oh, you are a darlin’ little marshy,’ laughed Polly now, bending down to kiss Alan Taylor on his juicy raisin eye. ‘An’ this is gonna be the best holiday ever!’
‘That’s right,’ laughed Friday O’Leary, throwing his hat up in the air. It landed on a cloud and the cloud laughed so hard it turned into a lovely apple. ‘We’re off to the seaside and we won’t be back for weeks!’
‘Hoorays!’ said Polly.
‘Huzzooof!’ said Alan Taylor.
‘THE TRUTH IS A LEMON MERINGUE!’ yelled Friday, as he sometimes liked to do. ‘It’s seaside time for us!’
And off they toddled down the friendly road and the sun shone down and the trees were brown and there wasn’t a frown in the whole wide world, just Friday, a biscuit and a happy little girl.
Chapter 2 Butcher Shop Blues
Deep inside Billy William the Third’s Right Royal Meats someone stood in the dismal shadows, watching the heroes go. It was that appalling butcher, Billy William the Third.
‘Ha ha ha,’ grinned Billy now. ‘With them lot of do-gooders gone down the seaside to do their sunbathin’ an’ their sandcastles, the way is clear for evil. For once me an’ me old pal Mr Gum’ll be free to do our plans in peace. An’ then we’ll RULE this stupid town!’
And that’s how it went in Lamonic Bibber. Billy William and Mr Gum were always trying to hatch their scoundrel plans and the heroes were always squashing them back down. So it was no wonder that seeing Polly and her friends leaving town put Billy in a good evil mood.
No more heroes any more!
he sang.
No more heroes any more! They walked right past me butcher’s door! Now me an’ Mr Gum’s gonna rule the roost! What’s a roost, I don’t even know? But who even cares, cos the heroes are gone! An’ now I’m gonna sing me song! Yeah yeah yeah yeah, nothin’ can stop us! Not even an interferin’ diplodocus.
As Billy sang he beat out a rhythm on the counter with a pair of chicken drumsticks. He closed his eyes and pretended he was a rock star guy called Space Age Billy and the Meat Brigade.
No more heroes any more! They walked right past me butcher’s door!
Me name is Space Age Billy, I’m a funky man!
He was Number 1 in the charts and all the girls fancied him. He was the best!
No more heroes any more! Mr Gum an’ Billy’s gonna win for sure!
But hang on. Just where was Mr Gum exactly?
Billy opened his eyes and snapped back to reality. He must have been singing for hours. It was getting dark outside. An owl flew past the window. Then another owl flew past. Then Dracula and his friend Clive walked by on their way to the pub. It was night time – but still no Mr Gum.
‘That’s funty,’ said Billy. (You see, that was how Billy William pronounced the word ‘funny’.) ‘Mr Gum always comes here for his Friday night dinner. He loves feastin’ on the entrails an’ stale burgers what I feed him. In all these years he ain’t never once been late.’
Billy’s pet flies buzzed around his head, picking at the tiny morsels of meat he kept in his ears for their treats.
The clock on the wall ticked.
Billy waited patiently, but inside his heart was slowly sinking like a battle ship. Until finally he had to admit it. Mr Gum wasn’t going to show.
‘Well, that’s it. I can’t wait no longer,’ yawned Billy, his butcher’s cap drooping wearily in the gloom. ‘There’s nothin’ for it but to shut up shop an’ call it a night.’
’I don’t get it,’ said Billy as he tucked himself into his freezing cold bed. ‘A whole town to muck up an’ no Mr Gum to muck it up with! It ain’t no fun doin’ plans on me own.’
Billy looked up at the poster on the wall. It was his secret joy. It was a pin-up of Thora Gruntwinkle, the Butcher Queen of Olde London Town. She was holding a meat cleaver dripping with guts.
‘Imagine if you an’ me was married, Thora me darlin’,’ said Billy. ‘Then I wouldn’t be lonely no more. An’ I wouldn’t need no Mr Gum neither,’ he added spitefully.
Billy blew out his bedside candle and soon he was fast asleep, sucking his thumb and dreaming of punting downstream with Thora Gruntwinkle at his side, feeding her chicken livers and gently stroking her long red fingernails.
Tasuta katkend on lõppenud.
