Fing. David Walliams

more and more, and she got more and more and more.

      Myrtle had at least one thing for every letter of the alphabet:

      Ant farm. Home to a million and one ants.

      Boomerang that doesn’t come back. Myrtle lost that on her first throw.

      Cowbell, which the girl put round her mother’s neck so she could locate her easily.

      Dog-grooming set. Even though she didn’t have a dog.

      Elf.

      Finger puppets of every king and queen of England from 1066 to the present day.

      Gravel collection. It was the biggest in Europe.

      Ham slicer. Even though she hated ham.

      Ice skates made for an elephant. Four of them.

      Jar containing one of scientist Albert Einstein’s burps.*

      Knee warmers.

      Lucky sausage. Actually it was unlucky.

      Map of Belgium. A country she had no intention of ever visiting as it was, in her words, “too Belgiumy”.

      Nelson’s Column made out of sultanas. Life-size.

      Owl fudge. This is fudge made of melted-down owls. It is even more disgusting than it sounds.

      Painting of some air. It wasn’t much to look at.

      Quicksand. Children who came over for a playdate and ended up displeasing Myrtle met their doom in it.

      Remote-controlled hedge (which could reach speeds of up to one mile an hour).

      Stuffed flea. It was so small that it was impossible to see.

      Turnip shampoo. It made your hair smell “as fresh as a turnip”.

      Underpants for worms. Only come in size “small”.

      Venom from a poisonous aubergine. Deadly.

      Wombat juicer. Perfect for producing a cool, refreshing glass of wombat juice.

      Xylophone case. Myrtle didn’t want an actual xylophone, just the case for one.

      Yeti. It hasn’t been sighted in the Himalayan mountains for years because Myrtle kept it locked in her cupboard.

      zebra dung. It was the only thing she could think of that began with a “z”.

      One thing Myrtle didn’t have any of was books. Despite her parents being librarians, she DETESTED books and thought they were B-O-O-O-R-R-R-I-I-I-N-N-N-G-G-G!*

      The girl had all this stuff, a universe of junk, but still she wanted something more. The funny thing was that she just didn’t know what.

      Can you guess what Myrtle demanded for her tenth birthday? In the incredibly unlikely event that you guessed…

      A pair of exploding socks.

      A life-sized blue-whale bath toy. When it went in the bath, all the water spilled out.

      A balloon model of the Taj Mahal.

      A pencil un-sharpener.

      And a robot pea.

      …then congratulations. You were correct and win one pound.*

      Mr and Mrs Meek were forced to give their daughter all these things that she had demanded for her birthday. If they hadn’t, Myrtle would have howled the house down.

      “Happy birthday, our beautiful angel!” they called out as Myrtle lay in bed, ripping open the presents and throwing the scrunched-up balls of wrapping paper back at them.

      RUSTLE!

      DOINK!

      Moments later, she was demanding something more. What was unusual this time, though, was that the girl had absolutely no idea what that something should be. Myrtle had so many things that she couldn’t think of a single thing in the world she didn’t have.

      “I wanna FING!”

      she announced over breakfast. The girl was scoffing a ginormous bowl of chocolate ice cream with seventeen chocolate flakes stuck in it, and an ocean of chocolate sauce on top. Yes, Myrtle had chocolate for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. Well, would you say no to her?

      Mr and Mrs Meek, who were dipping their neatly cut soldiers into boiled eggs, shared a worried look. A “FING”?