We were having breakfast -
Fooled you, you’re not actually reading about the time we helped out with Dumper’s Road Show, you’re reading about something completely different. About two books ago, my family got kidnapped by giant babies, and Granny, Lancelot, Rubbish the goat and I burst in to rescue them, but then we got a sudden realisation that Mr Dumper had to make environmentally friendly nappies - well, two books later, he’s about to face a fate worse than a pooey nappy, but I’ll go into full details later.
Anyway, suddenly an ambulance siren blasted from outside our house. Dad was confused. He’s about as daft as a cat with an elephant’s brain.
“Has someone left Casualty on?” he asked, rather confused.
“Er…I don’t think so, Ron,” whimpered Mum. Her teeth were chattering and she was becoming very white.
I jolted from the table and sprinted over to the window to see what it was. I threw open the curtains and saw a huge white van - but it didn’t have the red cross symbol like most ambulances did. What I can tell you is that it had blue and red lights, but men in black suits were marching in Stormtrooper rows across the pavement towards our front door.
“Er…Mum,” I began.
“Don’t answer the door, Nicholas!” cried Mum in horror, but too late - I did. When I answered, my eyes almost fell out of my head. Standing in front of me was a huge, beefy government agent, and behind him were two other thin-looking agents. He had a creepily stern look on his face, just enough to scare a toddler. Dad quickly hid under the table, screaming like a girl.
“Who are you and what do you want from us?!” I demanded, despite the panic going on in the background. The lead agent held up a white and red card with a ‘Censored’ symbol on it over a picture of a bare bottom.
“Mr Padrag, head of the UK Board Of Censorship,” he introduced, with no need to shake my hand whatsoever.
“We’ve just delivered complaints from parents all across the country that campaigns for Dumper’s Disposable Nappies are encouraging their kids to behave in a disrespectful, scatological way that’s grossing out every parent in the country.” boomed Mr Padrag.
“POO PANTS!” called out Tomato, because it’s the only word she knows. Mr Padrag didn’t take the slightest notice of Tomato’s behaviour and went on.
“Our parental complaints involved your baby siblings encouraging kids to play with their feces and excrement and paint the walls with them as if it were a new game they were encouraging them to play.”
“But, but-” I began.
“No buts,” interrupted Mr Padrag. “What we want is your little brother, Cheese.”
“But why?” I roared. “Why do you want him?”
“Because from now on, we are officially banning the word ‘Bottom’ from this country. We are wiping this word out from all the dictionaries, and we are encouraging all parents to avoid scatological references in cartoons and similar media.”
WHAT?! I thought loudly in my head.
You see, my baby brother Cheese used to have the most famous bottom in the country - according to my Dad anyway. You know that advert on the telly for Dumper’s Disposable Nappies? And you know that little baby you see crawling across the floor in the advert, wiggling his bare bum? That’s Cheese, my little brother. He even got on the TV news once - millions of viewers saw him. Then, Mr Dumper wanted Tomato as the face of his environmentally friendly pants, and wanted Dad to work for him.
Well today, things were going down the road. A road to the most horrific thing possible.
“We were informed by our eyewitnesses that the B word causes kids to fill their lives with toilet humor, which distracts them from the work they need to do for school.” continued Mr Padrag. “Now, hand over Cheese.”
I stood still in my tracks. I never had to hand over Cheese before - he was my brother, and I can’t bare to see them cut off his bottom! In the background, Mum was now in hysterical tears, Dad was already whimpering like a mouse under the table, and Cheese had started crying, great tears spilling down his baby food mush covered face.
“Don’t do it, Nicholas!” cried Mum.
“Someone call the NSPCC!” wailed Dad in a high pitched little girl voice.
“Poo Pants,” growled Tomato in a low voice, a bit calmer than she normally was before.
I looked to my family, then to Mr Padrag and his cronies. Then to one, then the other. One, the other. One, the other. It was happened so overwhelmingly my head felt like it was about to explode. Then, a determined look spread across my face just as Mr Padrag pointed a gun at me.
“Hand him over NOW!” he roared, “Or we’ll shoot you in the brain!”
“Then have him!” I cried.
Quickly, I stampeded over to Cheese, grabbed him from his pushchair and quickly handed him over to Mr Padrag. Cheese’s cries became more ear splitting and loud, Mum began screaming in horror, and Dad wasn’t being much help at all. Everything was in total chaos. And then:
“POO PANTS!” shouted Tomato.
Immediately, the whole room went quiet. So did Cheese too. Mr Padrag tapped his nose as if he were his real father.
“Right, that’s shut everyone up.” he said. I looked over at Mum who was in waterfalls of tears, and Dad who had practically wet himself from panicking, and Tomato who was eyeing the evil agent sternly. I was about to ask another question, but Mr Padrag interrupted.
“We will take Cheese to our Bottom Consolation Facility in Area 54, Devon - our BCF. We will give him all the consoling he needs.” explained Mr Padrag. A fierce look melted onto his fat face.
“BUT! Any mention of the B word in this house and we’re locking you up for umpteen years in our underground jail cell. Good day and beware.”
And carrying Cheese away, Mr Padrag slammed the door, so loudly it made us all jump. Except Mum. She hid her face in her hands and wept. She was now very quiet - her little Cheese had been taken away by government agents, and there was nothing she could do about it, all because B O T T O M was banned from the country.
Dad peered out from under the table. He too had for the first time in his life felt upset about what happened.
“Cheese…” he gasped over Mum’s sobs.
“My….my most famous bottom…gone.”
Tomato just ignored everyone completely and went back to eating her messy ketchup omelette.
I can’t believe it. Cheese was gone. He really was. And I have no one to blame but my family - and anyone writing or reading this.
Why are you into such disgusting comedic literature?
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