hand out doughnuts (she did not trust him to make hot chocolate) and sit quietly in the corner, not speaking unless spoken to.
‘All right, children,’ said Nanny Piggins, addressing her team. ‘Soccer is a complicated game. There are a lot of skills involving ducking and weaving. And lots of tactics involving strategy and thinking. All of which would take months, if not years, to learn, and which would be very boring for all of us. I do, however, know an awful lot about projectiles. Blasting things, usually me, enormous distances is my area of expertise. So we will win the game on Saturday because tonight I am going to teach you how to kick the living daylights out of a soccer ball. Do you understand?’
‘No,’ said all the children in unison.
‘That doesn’t matter. Understanding is entirely overrated,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Now, have you all brought along the pictures as I instructed?’ She had told all the children to bring along a photograph or drawing of the person they most detested in the entire world.
‘Yes,’ said Samantha. (She had a picture of her maths teacher in her pocket.)
‘What do you need them for?’ asked Derrick. (He had a picture of Barry Nichols, the school bully.)
‘I’ll demonstrate,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Samson, did you bring along that picture of Nanny Anne I asked for?’
‘Yes,’ said Samson. ‘I’ve got one of her accepting a certificate from the Guinness Book of Records for getting the most starch into one pair of underpants.’
‘Perfect,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Now, children, watch closely as I use some sticky tape to attach this picture to a soccer ball.’
The children watched Nanny Piggins. They had not been expecting to get an impromptu craft lesson.
‘I will place the ball on the ground so that Nanny Anne is looking at me, then take a few stepsback. Now, this is the important bit – I shall stare hard at Nanny Anne’s face …’ Nanny Piggins glared at the photograph so fiercely that the few children who had been foolish enough to turn and look at her instead of at the ball had to flinch away in fear, ‘… concentrating all my feelings of anger and resentment, pushing them down, deep down into my foot …’ Nanny Piggins was silent for a moment while she pushed her feelings. ‘And now I shall give Nanny Anne the good kick she deserves!’
Nanny Piggins ran forward and kicked the ball. Or rather she launched the ball. And because she kicked it so hard, it looked and sounded like it had been blasted out of a cannon. The black and white ball flew the entire length of the soccer field and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
‘Wow!’ said Derrick.
‘How do you do that?’ asked Michael.
‘She really is a very annoying woman,’ explained Nanny Piggins.
‘But we’ll never be able to kick like that,’ said Samantha.
‘Of course you will. Nanny Anne is annoying but she has never tried to teach me integers. I should imagine your feelings for your maths teacher are even stronger,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Come along,everyone take out your photographs and use the sticky tape to attach them to a ball.’
The rest of the practice session went brilliantly. Young children are such easy targets for bullies, that every member of the team had lots of pent-up emotion towards some spiteful adult or cruel child. Balls were soon flying the length and breadth of the field. When Samantha remembered the time they had studied quadratic equations, she kicked the ball so hard she actually cracked one of the goal posts.
And so the day of the big match arrived. The Green children’s confidence began to waver when they saw the size and athleticism of their opponents.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Samantha. ‘We can’t dribble or weave, we don’t know any set plays and the referee will never let us stick eleven different photographs to the soccer ball before we start play.’
‘Nine different photos,’ Derrick reminded her. ‘Three of
‘All right, children,’ said Nanny Piggins, addressing her team. ‘Soccer is a complicated game. There are a lot of skills involving ducking and weaving. And lots of tactics involving strategy and thinking. All of which would take months, if not years, to learn, and which would be very boring for all of us. I do, however, know an awful lot about projectiles. Blasting things, usually me, enormous distances is my area of expertise. So we will win the game on Saturday because tonight I am going to teach you how to kick the living daylights out of a soccer ball. Do you understand?’
‘No,’ said all the children in unison.
‘That doesn’t matter. Understanding is entirely overrated,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Now, have you all brought along the pictures as I instructed?’ She had told all the children to bring along a photograph or drawing of the person they most detested in the entire world.
‘Yes,’ said Samantha. (She had a picture of her maths teacher in her pocket.)
‘What do you need them for?’ asked Derrick. (He had a picture of Barry Nichols, the school bully.)
‘I’ll demonstrate,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Samson, did you bring along that picture of Nanny Anne I asked for?’
‘Yes,’ said Samson. ‘I’ve got one of her accepting a certificate from the Guinness Book of Records for getting the most starch into one pair of underpants.’
‘Perfect,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Now, children, watch closely as I use some sticky tape to attach this picture to a soccer ball.’
The children watched Nanny Piggins. They had not been expecting to get an impromptu craft lesson.
‘I will place the ball on the ground so that Nanny Anne is looking at me, then take a few stepsback. Now, this is the important bit – I shall stare hard at Nanny Anne’s face …’ Nanny Piggins glared at the photograph so fiercely that the few children who had been foolish enough to turn and look at her instead of at the ball had to flinch away in fear, ‘… concentrating all my feelings of anger and resentment, pushing them down, deep down into my foot …’ Nanny Piggins was silent for a moment while she pushed her feelings. ‘And now I shall give Nanny Anne the good kick she deserves!’
Nanny Piggins ran forward and kicked the ball. Or rather she launched the ball. And because she kicked it so hard, it looked and sounded like it had been blasted out of a cannon. The black and white ball flew the entire length of the soccer field and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
‘Wow!’ said Derrick.
‘How do you do that?’ asked Michael.
‘She really is a very annoying woman,’ explained Nanny Piggins.
‘But we’ll never be able to kick like that,’ said Samantha.
‘Of course you will. Nanny Anne is annoying but she has never tried to teach me integers. I should imagine your feelings for your maths teacher are even stronger,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Come along,everyone take out your photographs and use the sticky tape to attach them to a ball.’
The rest of the practice session went brilliantly. Young children are such easy targets for bullies, that every member of the team had lots of pent-up emotion towards some spiteful adult or cruel child. Balls were soon flying the length and breadth of the field. When Samantha remembered the time they had studied quadratic equations, she kicked the ball so hard she actually cracked one of the goal posts.
And so the day of the big match arrived. The Green children’s confidence began to waver when they saw the size and athleticism of their opponents.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Samantha. ‘We can’t dribble or weave, we don’t know any set plays and the referee will never let us stick eleven different photographs to the soccer ball before we start play.’
‘Nine different photos,’ Derrick reminded her. ‘Three of
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