direction of the scream.
Then they all screamed, Nanny Piggins included, when they realised it was not one of them lying dazed on the floor, but a fully grown hoodlum wearing a black balaclava as though he were a burglar.
Fortunately Nanny Piggins quickly recovered from her screaming and had the presence of mind to hit the hoodlum over the head with an umbrella. (Which is why it is so very important to have an umbrella stand right by the front door – you must always have something at hand to beat people over the head with.) She then tied him up with a roll of string she happened to have in her pocket. Nanny Piggins had been the hog-tying champion of her circus seven years in a row. (If you are a pig, it is best to compete in the hog-tying competition just so that nobody gets funny ideas about competing on you.) She had the hoodlum trussed up in under 12 seconds. Michael timed her with his watch.
They dragged the hoodlum into the living room and tied him to a chair. Nanny Piggins rather enjoyed tying knots once she got started. Then they all stood back and took a good look at him.
'Do you think he's a murderer?' asked Michael. 'You know, a real one.'
'Or a kidnapper?' asked Derrick.
'Or a . . .' Samantha struggled to think of something more exotic than a kidnapper or a murderer, 'a kidnapping murderer who steals jewels?'
'I don't know. It's hard to tell from just looking at him. That's the thing about these criminals. They're very good at disguising themselves,' said Nanny Piggins.
'Oi! I'm not a kidnapping murderer,' said the hoodlum suddenly.
Nanny Piggins and the children leapt back in surprise.
'My goodness, he speaks English!' exclaimed Nanny Piggins.
'Course I do,' said the hoodlum as he wiggled about trying to escape the tightly knotted string.
'There's no "course" about it. If you were an assassin hired by a foreign government to kidnap Mr Green in his sleep, who knows what language you might speak,' said Nanny Piggins.
'Why would anyone want to kidnap father in his sleep?' asked Samantha. She was not necessarily against the idea but she was curious if Nanny Piggins knew something she did not.
'To get to me, of course,' said Nanny Piggins. 'To try to force me to give up my sticky date pudding recipe. You'd be amazed at the desperate lengths people will go to for my baking secrets. Once a domestic science teacher chained herself to my cannon for a week. She didn't get my recipe but she learned a lot about ballistics.'
'I haven't been hired by any foreigners and I've never met the bloke that lives here, I swear,' protested the hoodlum.
'You're not allowed to swear in this house,' said Michael. 'You'll get one less piece of chocolate at dinnertime if you do.'
'It's all right, Michael,' said Nanny Piggins. 'There are two types of swearing and one of them is okay.'
'Really?' asked Michael.
'Yes, really,' Nanny Piggins assured him. 'It's just another confusing thing about the English language, invented to baffle us all.'
'Why don't we pull off his balaclava,' suggested Derrick.
'He might bite,' warned Nanny Piggins. 'I know I would if I was wearing a balaclava and someone started tugging at it.'
'It's all right, I won't bite. I'd like it if you took it off because I'm getting a bit hot,' the hoodlum assured them.
'That'll serve you right for breaking into homes while wearing winter clothes in the height of summer,' said Nanny Piggins unsympathetically.
Nevertheless, Derrick tugged the hoodlum's balaclava off and they were all disappointed to discover that their hoodlum was not very impressive at all. He was about seventeen years old, skinny, and he had spots. To Nanny Piggins' mind a kidnapper should at least grow a moustache. That way they have something to twirl when they are laughing evilly over their wicked deeds.
'Just our luck,' bemoaned Nanny Piggins. 'We're not even attacked by a proper scary hoodlum. We're attacked by a juvenile spotty one.'
'I'm not a juvenile,' the hoodlum protested. 'I
Then they all screamed, Nanny Piggins included, when they realised it was not one of them lying dazed on the floor, but a fully grown hoodlum wearing a black balaclava as though he were a burglar.
Fortunately Nanny Piggins quickly recovered from her screaming and had the presence of mind to hit the hoodlum over the head with an umbrella. (Which is why it is so very important to have an umbrella stand right by the front door – you must always have something at hand to beat people over the head with.) She then tied him up with a roll of string she happened to have in her pocket. Nanny Piggins had been the hog-tying champion of her circus seven years in a row. (If you are a pig, it is best to compete in the hog-tying competition just so that nobody gets funny ideas about competing on you.) She had the hoodlum trussed up in under 12 seconds. Michael timed her with his watch.
They dragged the hoodlum into the living room and tied him to a chair. Nanny Piggins rather enjoyed tying knots once she got started. Then they all stood back and took a good look at him.
'Do you think he's a murderer?' asked Michael. 'You know, a real one.'
'Or a kidnapper?' asked Derrick.
'Or a . . .' Samantha struggled to think of something more exotic than a kidnapper or a murderer, 'a kidnapping murderer who steals jewels?'
'I don't know. It's hard to tell from just looking at him. That's the thing about these criminals. They're very good at disguising themselves,' said Nanny Piggins.
'Oi! I'm not a kidnapping murderer,' said the hoodlum suddenly.
Nanny Piggins and the children leapt back in surprise.
'My goodness, he speaks English!' exclaimed Nanny Piggins.
'Course I do,' said the hoodlum as he wiggled about trying to escape the tightly knotted string.
'There's no "course" about it. If you were an assassin hired by a foreign government to kidnap Mr Green in his sleep, who knows what language you might speak,' said Nanny Piggins.
'Why would anyone want to kidnap father in his sleep?' asked Samantha. She was not necessarily against the idea but she was curious if Nanny Piggins knew something she did not.
'To get to me, of course,' said Nanny Piggins. 'To try to force me to give up my sticky date pudding recipe. You'd be amazed at the desperate lengths people will go to for my baking secrets. Once a domestic science teacher chained herself to my cannon for a week. She didn't get my recipe but she learned a lot about ballistics.'
'I haven't been hired by any foreigners and I've never met the bloke that lives here, I swear,' protested the hoodlum.
'You're not allowed to swear in this house,' said Michael. 'You'll get one less piece of chocolate at dinnertime if you do.'
'It's all right, Michael,' said Nanny Piggins. 'There are two types of swearing and one of them is okay.'
'Really?' asked Michael.
'Yes, really,' Nanny Piggins assured him. 'It's just another confusing thing about the English language, invented to baffle us all.'
'Why don't we pull off his balaclava,' suggested Derrick.
'He might bite,' warned Nanny Piggins. 'I know I would if I was wearing a balaclava and someone started tugging at it.'
'It's all right, I won't bite. I'd like it if you took it off because I'm getting a bit hot,' the hoodlum assured them.
'That'll serve you right for breaking into homes while wearing winter clothes in the height of summer,' said Nanny Piggins unsympathetically.
Nevertheless, Derrick tugged the hoodlum's balaclava off and they were all disappointed to discover that their hoodlum was not very impressive at all. He was about seventeen years old, skinny, and he had spots. To Nanny Piggins' mind a kidnapper should at least grow a moustache. That way they have something to twirl when they are laughing evilly over their wicked deeds.
'Just our luck,' bemoaned Nanny Piggins. 'We're not even attacked by a proper scary hoodlum. We're attacked by a juvenile spotty one.'
'I'm not a juvenile,' the hoodlum protested. 'I
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