The World of David Walliams 5 Book Collection. David Walliams

mother.”

      “You shouldn’t say that,” said Mr Stink.

      “But I do.”

      “You are very angry with her, of course, but she loves you, even if she finds it hard to show it.”

      “Maybe.” Chloe shrugged, unconvinced. But having talked everything through she felt a little calmer now. “Thank you so much for listening to me,” she said.

      “I just hate to see a young girl like you looking sad,” said Mr Stink. “I may be old, but I can remember what it was like to be young. I just hope I helped a little.”

      “You helped a lot.”

      Mr Stink smiled, before letting the last sludge of his volcanic gloop slip down his throat. “Delicious! Now, we’d better leave some money for our beverages.” He searched around in his pockets for some change. “Oh, bother, I can’t read the board without my spectacles. I’ll leave six pence. That should be enough. And a tuppence tip. They will be pleased with that. They can treat themselves to one of those new-fangled video cassettes. Right, I think you’d better be heading home now, young lady.”

      The rain had stopped when they left the coffee shop. They sauntered down the road as cars hummed past.

      “Let’s swap places,” said Mr Stink.

      “Why?”

      “Because a lady should always walk on the inside of the pavement and a gentleman on the outside.”

      “Really?” said Chloe. “Why?”

      “Well,” replied Mr Stink, “the outside is more dangerous because that’s where the cars are. But I believe it was originally because in the olden days people used to throw the contents of their chamber pots out of their windows and into the gutter. The person on the outside was more likely to get splattered!”

      “What’s a chamber pot?” said Chloe.

      “Well I don’t wish to be crude, but it’s a kind of portable toilet.”

      “Ugh! That’s gross. Did people do that when you were a boy?”

      Mr Stink chuckled. “No, that was a little before my time, child. In the sixteenth century, in fact! Now, Miss Chloe, etiquette demands we swap places.”

      His old-world gallantry was so charming it made Chloe smile, and they changed places. They strolled side by side, passing high-street shop after high-street shop, all trying to herald the approach of Christmas louder than the next. After a few moments Chloe saw Rosamund walking towards them with a small flotilla of shopping bags.

      “Can we cross the road, please? Quickly,” whispered Chloe anxiously.

      “Why, child? Whatever is the matter?”

      “It’s that girl from school I just told you about, Rosamund.”

      “The one who stuck that sign to your back?”

      “Yes, that’s her.”

      “You need to stand up to her,” pronounced Mr Stink. “Let her be the one to cross the road!”

      “No…please don’t say anything,” pleaded Chloe.

      “Who is this? Your new boyfriend?” laughed Rosamund. It wasn’t a real laugh, like people do when they find something funny. That’s a lovely sound. This was a cruel laugh. An ugly sound.

      Chloe didn’t say anything, just looked down.

      “My daddy just gave me £500 to buy myself whatever I wanted for Christmas,” said Rosamund. “I blew the lot at Topshop. Shame you’re too fat to get into any of their clothes.”

      Chloe merely sighed. She was used to being hounded by Rosamund.

      “Why are you letting her talk to you like that, Chloe?” said Mr Stink.

      “What’s it to you, Grandad?” said Rosamund mockingly. “Hanging around with smelly old tramps now, are you Chloe? You are tragic! How long did it take you to find that sign on your back then?”

      “She didn’t find it,” said Mr Stink, slowly and deliberately. “I did. And I didn’t find it amusing.”

      “Didn’t you?” said Rosamund. “All the other girls found it really funny!”

      “Well, then they are as vile as you,” said Mr Stink.

      “What?” said Rosamund. She wasn’t used to being talked to like that.

      “I said ‘then they are as vile as you’,” he repeated, even louder this time. “You are a nasty little bully.” Chloe looked on anxiously. She hated confrontation.

      To make matters worse, Rosamund took a pace forward and stood eye to eye with Mr Stink. “Say that to my face, you old stinker!”

      For a moment Mr Stink fell silent. Then he opened his mouth and let out the deepest darkest dirtiest burp.

      “BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB BBBBBBUUUUUUUU UUUUUUUUUUUUUU UUUUUUUUUUUUUU UUUUUUUUUUUUUR RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

      Rosamund’s face turned green. It was as if a putrid tornado had engulfed her. It was the smell of coffee and sausages and rotten vegetables recovered from bins all rolled into one. Rosamund turned and ran, hurtling down the high street in such a panic that she dropped her TopShop bags on the way.

      “That was so funny!” laughed Chloe.

      “I didn’t mean to belch. Most impolite. It was just that coffee repeating on me. Dear me! Now next time I want to see you stand up for yourself, Miss Chloe. A bully can only make you feel bad about yourself if you let them.”

      “OK…I’ll try,” said Chloe. “So…see you tomorrow?”

      “If you really want to,” he replied.

      “I would love to.”

      “And I would love to too!” he said, his eyes twinkling and twinkling as the last golden glow of the sunlight splintered through the sky.

      At that moment a 4×4 thundered past. Its giant tyres sloshed through a huge puddle by the bus stop, sending up a wave that soaked Mr Stink from dirty head to dirty foot.

      Water dripping from his glasses, he gave Chloe a little bow. “And that,” he said, “is why a gentleman always walks on the outside.”

      “At least it wasn’t a chamber pot!” chuckled Chloe.

       6 Soap-Dodgers

      The next morning Chloe pulled open her curtains. Why was there a giant ‘O’ and a giant ‘V’ stuck to her window? She went outside in her dressing gown to investigate.

      ‘VOTE CRUMB!’ was spelled out in giant letters across the windows of the house. Elizabeth the cat pattered out with a rosette emblazoned with the words ‘Crumb for MP’ attached to her jewel-encrusted collar.

      Then Annabelle came skipping out of the house with an air of self-congratulatory joy that was instantly annoying.

      “Where are you going?” asked Chloe.

      “As her favourite daughter, Mother has entrusted me with the responsibility of putting these leaflets through every door in the street. She’s standing to be a Member of Parliament, remember?”

      “Let me see that,” said Chloe, reaching out to grab one of the leaflets. The two warring sisters had long since dispensed