The Clumsies Make a Mess of the School

Dedication

For Pip, and Harry

The Clumsies Make a Mess

The Clumsies Make a Mess of the Seaside

The Clumsies Make a Mess of the Big Show

The Clumsies Make a Mess of the Zoo

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

St. Apricot’s

Glue, and the wall of lunch

Grand Sports Day Part 1

Grand Sports Day Part 2

Copyright

About the Publisher

‘I wonder what Howard’s done now?’ whispered Purvis, to Mickey Thompson.

‘I don’t know,’ whispered Mickey Thompson, back, ‘but whatever it is I wish they’d hurry up. I want my breakfast.’

agreed

Ortrud,

loudly

‘Shhh,’ whispered Purvis. ‘Listen: he’s saying something about a…’

‘School?’ said Howard.

‘But I don’t want to go to

Mr Bullerton

‘You will go to that

‘You don’t mean St Apricot’s?’ asked Howard.

‘I do mean St Apricot’s,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘They’re having a

‘But…’ began Howard.

‘And you may tell them,’ continued Mr Bullerton, puffing out his chest, ‘that even though I am a busy and important person with a busy and important schedule, I shall kindly make time to give them a speech and hand out the prizes. My name will be famous! That’s the second part of the message.’

‘But have they invited you?’ asked Howard. ‘Surely you’d need to be invited?’

‘Nonsense,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘They’re lucky to have me, and you can tell them that too, as part three.’

‘I see,’ said Howard.

‘And then,’ continued Mr Bullerton, again, ‘you must put in place the appropriate arrangements.’

‘How do you mean?’ said Howard.

Mr Bullerton tutted. ‘The usual things for a Guest of Honour, of course,’ he said. ‘Plinths, cordials, etc.’

‘Eh?’ said Howard.

‘I SAID PLINTHS,

CORDIALS, ETC,’

shouted Mr Bullerton. ‘Make sure they’re ready. Go on, then; off you go.’

‘Can’t it wait a little while?’ asked Howard. ‘Only there are one or two things I need to…’

‘Howard!’

‘Help,’ gulped Howard.

‘Of course,’ said the mice. ‘We’ll come with you.’

‘No you won’t,’ said Howard. ‘Not this time.’

‘WHAT?’ shouted Mr Bullerton. ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING UNDER THERE?’

‘I’m err... err…’

‘Finding your bag,’ whispered Purvis, handing Howard an

‘I SAID NO,’ shouted Howard.

‘DON’T YOU “NO” ME!’ shouted Mr Bullerton. ‘COME OUT AT ONCE!’

Howard sighed, defeatedly, grasped the bag

‘Sorry about that,’ he said, sidling towards the door. ‘I was just finding my bag.’

Mr Bullerton stared at it.

‘It’s

‘Is it?’ said Howard, sidling faster. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

‘What’s in it?’ said Mr Bullerton.

‘Err, nothing,’ said Howard, whisking out of the room and racing down the corridor towards the lift.

‘WHAT?’ shouted Mr Bullerton. ‘WAIT! I DON’T WANT YOU MUCKING

ANYTHING UP THIS TIME, HOWARD ARMITAGE!’

‘No, bye,’ waved Howard, as the lift arrived with a ‘PING!’ and he hurried inside.

‘DID YOU HEAR WHAT I SAID?’ yelled Mr Bullerton, as the doors clunked shut.‘Where to?’ said the lift.

‘Come along, come along,’ said Howard, jabbing the buttons.

‘Ask nicely, now,’ giggled the lift, not budging. ‘Say the magic word.’

‘Delighted to oblige,’ said the lift, setting off.

‘At last,’ muttered Howard.

‘He’s agitated,’ observed the lift, as they trundled down. ‘What’s afoot?’

‘We’re taking a complicated message to

‘They’re having a

‘Ooh!’ said the lift. ‘I’ve heard about those: there’ll be people running and leaping about and all sorts. Some of them get into sacks and bounce around.’

There was another scrabbling noise from inside the bag and Mickey Thompson peeped out, looking surprised.

‘It’s true!’ said the lift, warming to its theme. ‘There’s even a race where one person gets tied onto another person and they charge

‘Mr Bullerton’s decided to be the Guest of Honour,’ said Purvis.

‘Has he, now?’ said the lift. ‘Got him in that great

‘No,’ said Purvis. ‘He’s following on later once we’ve put in place the appropriate arrangements.’

‘At last,’ said Howard, hurrying out. ‘It gives me the

‘Neither are mice,’ pointed out Mickey Thompson,

‘That’s different,’ said Howard.

‘Why?’ said Mickey Thompson.

‘It just is,’ said Howard.

‘But…’ began Mickey Thompson.

‘There isn’t time to discuss it now,’ said Howard, quickly. ‘We need to get going.’

‘But…’ began Mickey Thompson, again.

‘We can collect my dog on the way,’ said Howard. ‘The road to the

‘Allen!’ cheered the mice.

‘Allen,’ agreed Howard. ‘He’ll enjoy the walk, and Mr Bullerton need never know.’

So the Clumsies nestled back down in the bag, Howard hoisted it over his shoulder and, collecting Allen on the way, they set off up the road past offices and shops and a fence and a park and a wall and some houses and trees, and eventually they arrived at the

Howard stopped.

‘Now listen,’ he said. ‘Best behaviour, understand?’

There was no reply.

‘Do you understand me?’ he said.

There was still no reply so Howard put the bag down and peered inside. Mickey Thompson and Purvis

‘Well?’ said Howard.

‘What?’ they said.

‘Did you hear what I said?’ said Howard.

‘No,’ they said.

‘There’s a lot of traffic and birds and things,’ said Purvis.

‘I was saying,’ said Howard, ‘you’re to be on your best behaviour.’

‘PARDON?’

shouted Mickey Thompson.

Howard ignored him. ‘I don’t want any… you know… incidents.’

‘Of course not, Howard,’ said the mice.

‘And no mess,’ said Howard. ‘Absolutely none.’

‘No, Howard,’ said the mice.

‘And I’m including Ortrud in this,’ said Howard, firmly. ‘Does she understand?’ There was a loud snore from inside the bag.

‘She’s sleeping, Howard,’ said Purvis. ‘We’ll explain it to her later.’

‘Make sure you do,’ said Howard. ‘Now, Allen had better wait out here,’ he said, settling Allen in a comfortable spot. ‘We won’t be long.’

He hoisted the bag up again, trudged into the

‘Oof,’ he said.

‘Are they?’ said Howard, sounding surprised.

‘In a manner of speaking,’ said the woman. ‘I am the

Headmistress of this establishment: JB Undercracker, at your service.’ She clicked her heels and thrust out a hand, so Howard shook it.

‘Right,’ said JB Undercracker, briskly. ‘Who are you and what do you want?’

‘I’ve come with a message,’ said Howard.

‘Oh yes?’ said JB Undercracker.

‘Actually, several,’ said Howard.

‘Oh yes?’ said JB Undercracker.

‘Actually one, but it’s got several parts,’ said Howard.

JB Undercracker narrowed her eyes.

‘Spill,’ she said.

‘Sorry?’ said Howard.

‘The beans, sonny,’ said JB Undercracker. ‘Spill ’em.’

‘Right,’ said Howard. ‘Well, it’s Mr Bullerton…’

‘Delighted to meet you, Mr

Bullerton,’ said JB Undercracker.

‘No, no,’ said Howard. ‘I…’

‘We are making good progress, aren’t we?’ she said. ‘And now we’ve established the who you are part of the equation, let’s tackle the what do you want. To what do we owe the pleasure?’

Howard mopped his brow.

‘It’s about your

‘AAGGH!’ she

‘That’s good,’ said Howard, ‘because he, Mr Bullerton I mean, the real one, not me, is going to be St Apricot’s Guest of Honour.’

‘Super. Now look at this,’ said JB Undercracker, fiddling with the scooter. ‘It’s got a very interesting mechanism.’

‘Err, yes,’ said Howard. ‘So as I was saying, he’s importantly making some time for a speech and, and prizes and… busy schedule…’

‘I’ve always wondered how these things worked,’ said JB Undercracker, spinning the wheel.

‘That was parts one and two of the message,’ said Howard, pressing on, ‘and part three was to tell you you’re lucky.’

‘Aren’t we just,’ said JB Undercracker, beaming. ‘Is that everything?’

‘I think so,’ said Howard.

‘No, it isn’t,’ hissed Purvis, from inside the bag. ‘You’ve forgotten the plinths, cordials etc.’

‘OH, YES!’

shouted Howard, ‘I nearly forgot. We’ll be needing some plinths and cordials.’

‘Plinths?’ said JB Undercracker.

‘And cordials,’ nodded Howard.

‘Etc,’ hissed Purvis.

‘There might be a bottle of orange squash in the kitchen,’ she said. ‘Would that be of any use?’

‘It’s a start,’ said Howard.

‘Or I’ll tell you what, how about a nice cup of tea instead? You look as though you could do with one.’

‘Yes please,’ croaked Howard.

‘Good man,’ said JB Undercracker, slapping him on the back. ‘Leave the bag in my office and come with me.’

‘I’d prefer to keep hold of it, thank you,’ said Howard.

‘Nonsense,’ said JB Undercracker. ‘It’s far too big. What’s in it?’

‘NOTHING,’

shouted Howard. ‘Nothing at all.’

‘Well in that case you won’t be needing it, will you?’ she said, wrestling it from him, and flinging it into a nearby room. ‘Come along, Mr Bullerton.’ She climbed onto the scooter and shot off up the corridor, with Howard trotting worriedly behind.

Mickey Thompson heaved a disappointed-sounding sigh.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Purvis.

‘Well, if they’ve gone for a cup of tea they’ll probably be having a biscuit or something, won’t they?’ he said.

‘Possibly,’ said Purvis.

‘Or a slice of cake.’

‘You never know,’ said Purvis.

‘Or a little sandwich, even.’

‘Your point being?’ said Purvis.

‘We won’t get any,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘And we didn’t have any breakfast. And I’m hungry.’

‘Me too, now you mention it,’ said Purvis. ‘Let’s have a look around: maybe JB Undercracker’s got a biscuit tin.’

So they all climbed out of the bag and had a look around. They searched through the cupboards, rummaged amongst the bookshelves, explored under the desk and checked behind each and every one of JB Undercracker’s nick-knacks, photographs and certificates, but there was no biscuit tin.

‘Bother,’ said Mickey Thompson.

‘Oh well, I don’t suppose Howard will be much longer,’ said Purvis. ‘We can ask him to take us all for a café lunch before we go back to the office.’

‘But I need something now,’ groaned Mickey Thompson, clutching his tummy. ‘I’m feeling dreadfully faint.’ He staggered dramatically and collapsed against a nearby vase.

‘CAREFUL!’ shouted Purvis, as it toppled.

‘Oh dear,’ said Purvis.

‘I didn’t mean to,’ said Mickey Thompson, unhappily. ‘Do you think JB Underthingy’ll be very upset?’

‘I expect that depends on how fond she was of the vase,’ said Purvis, as they examined the broken pieces.

‘The pattern was pretty,’ said Mickey Thompson, even more unhappily. ‘I’d have been fond of it, if it had been mine.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Purvis. ‘The bits are quite big. We could probably glue them together…’

‘Ooh!’ said Mickey Thompson, brightening.

‘If we had some glue.’

‘Ah,’ said Mickey Thompson, deflating. ‘I don’t remember seeing any when we were going through everything just now.’

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