like it had been ironed (as indeed it had, but Nanny Anne never admitted this because she did not want people to know that she did something as undignified as resting her head on an ironing board). They were shocked to see her because Nanny Piggins had banned Nanny Anne from entering their house ever since the time she had whipped an electric razor out of her handbag and tried to shave Michael’s head, claiming to have seen a nit. He actually did have nits but Nanny Piggins’ secret shampoo recipe (which primarily contained chocolate) remedied that in a way that was much kinder to the nits and Michael’s hairstyle.
But even more horrifyingly, sitting right next to Nanny Anne was a woman who looked exactly like Nanny Anne in all respects, except for the fact that she was two feet shorter.
‘Where’s Nanny Piggins?’ demanded Derrick.
Nanny Anne ignored them and turned to address her clone. ‘Now this is exactly what I was just talkingabout,’ smiled Nanny Anne. ‘Your children need a lesson in manners. It isn’t nice to burst in and start yelling at a guest.’
‘You’re no guest,’ scoffed Samantha. ‘Where’s our nanny?’
‘Sitting right in front of you,’ said Nanny Anne with a smirk.
‘Good afternoon children, did you have a good day at school?’ asked the Nanny Anne clone.
The children recoiled in horror, for they now realised this clone was a pig. A pig who, if you ignored the bleached blonde hair, perky lavender twin-set and natty little pearl necklace, looked a lot like Nanny Piggins.
‘It’s one of Nanny Piggins’ evil twin sisters!’ exclaimed Michael.
‘Who are you? Anthea, Beatrice, Abigail, Gretel, Deidre, Jeanette, Ursula, Nadia, Sophia, Sue, Charlotte, Wendy or Katerina? And what are you doing here?’ demanded Derrick.
Nanny Anne laughed. ‘Don’t you recognise your own nanny when you see her?’
The children peered at the alien-looking pig.
‘It can’t be Nanny Piggins,’ said Samantha. ‘She would rather die than wear pearls. She takes the expression “pearls before swine” very personally.’
‘And she’d never bleach her hair,’ added Derrick. ‘She likes referring to herself as a raven-haired beauty too much.’
‘It is Nanny Piggins,’ gasped Michael. ‘Look, you can see the scar on her leg where she climbed up on the kitchen bench and banged into the toaster oven while she was trying to eat the pancake that was stuck to the ceiling.’
‘What have you done to her?’ accused Samantha.
‘Nanny Anne has been kind enough to help me with my appearance,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘There’s so much I don’t remember. And she has been telling me all the things I need to know about manners, politeness and being nice.’
‘But you hate being nice,’ argued Derrick. ‘You prefer being fabulous or very cross or staggeringly beautiful.’
‘You’re never something as dull as nice ,’ said Michael.
‘But Nanny Anne has been teaching me that as a nanny, it is my place to be dull,’ said Nanny Piggins.
Nanny Anne nodded and smiled (a smile that looked nice but which the children knew to be pure wickedness).
‘And Nanny Anne says that if I give her all my cake recipes she will let me join her etiquette club so I can socialise with the other nannies,’ continued Nanny Piggins.
‘But you hate etiquette,’ protested Samantha.
‘And you hate clubs,’ added Michael.
‘And you hate Nanny Anne,’ added Derrick. ‘Every time you turn your back she tries to wash behind your ears with a scouring pad.’
‘Older boy, you must not say that,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Telling a guest that you hate them is bad etiquette.’ Nanny Piggins looked to Nanny Anne for confirmation.
Nanny Anne nodded. ‘And how are you going to punish him?’ prompted Nanny Anne.
‘I have to punish him?’ asked Nanny Piggins, rubbing her head.
‘Oh yes, punishment is character building,’ said Nanny Anne. ‘An outburst like that warrants, at the very least, being
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