The World's Biggest Bogey (12 page)

She showed them into the games room, where a boy and girl sat in front of a screen, using handsets to control two brightly coloured racing cars speeding around a track. The boy was also wearing
a false beard.

‘Bucket scoops!’ called Danny.

‘That means “Hello”,’ said Matthew. ‘Danny’s started to talk gobbledegook, and only I can understand him. That’s why we’re here. I’m
Matthew, by the way.’

‘Hi, my name’s Alex,’ said the boy, ‘and this is Abigail.’

‘What time’s the doorknob?’ asked Danny.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ translated Matthew.

‘Well, my bottom turns blue whenever I eat a banana,’ replied Alex.

‘And my ears began to buzz when my dad grew a beard,’ said Abigail. ‘Listen.’

Danny and Matthew leaned close to Abigail. Her ears were buzzing softly, as if each one had a small bee trapped inside it.

‘Wonderfluff!’ breathed Danny.

‘Cool,’ agreed Matthew. ‘Why aren’t
you
wearing a false beard?’ he asked Abigail.

‘Because I’m the reason everyone’s wearing them in the first place,’ she explained. ‘Professor Walkinshaw is hoping I’ll be cured if I get used to the sight
of them.’

‘Has it worked?’ asked Matthew.

‘It’s starting to,’ answered Abigail. She reached for a small square black box that hung around her neck on a strip of pink ribbon. ‘This is a sound-level meter. The
reading’s getting lower and lower all the time. You should have heard the noise when it began. My ears sounded like racing cars!’

Danny laughed. ‘Wonderfluff!’ His tummy rumbled. ‘Why did you shovel coal on a mongoose?’ he asked. ‘Cream crackers!’

Alex and Abigail looked at Matthew.

‘That means, “When do we have lunch? I’m starving!”’

‘In about half an hour,’ replied Alex. ‘But don’t get excited, the food here
stinks.
You’re lucky it’s not Friday, or you’d be getting stinky
fish.’

‘Yeah,
and
beans and sprouts and cabbage,’ complained Abigail.

Matthew pulled a face. ‘Gross.’

‘It’s great fuel for farts though,’ commented Alex. ‘On Fridays we can all trump for England.’

Danny’s eyes lit up as an idea popped into his head.

‘Tip-tap the moonbeams, because kittens bob their heads to tubas,’ he said.

Matthew frowned. ‘What are you up to, Danny?’

Alex and Abigail looked puzzled.

‘What did he say?’ asked Alex.

‘This Friday, every kid in the hospital must hang on to their trumps,’ explained Matthew.

‘Why?’ giggled Abigail.

‘Walnuts are skating down the rug because their noses are like train sets,’ babbled Danny. ‘Snooker cue.’

Matthew grinned. ‘We’re going to try and break the world record for the Loudest Trump – pass it on.’

‘How do we dollop cat-food on the light bulbs of smooth?!’ Danny asked.

Alex and Abigail turned to Matthew.

‘Why trump for England when we can trump for the world?!’

Danny yawned, stretched and trumped. Alex and Abigail were right: this horrible hospital food was
brilliant
fart fuel. Matthew had been running tests with the
sound-level meter, trying to see which food produced the loudest trumps. He’d calculated that boiled cabbage produced the most gas and the longest trumps, beans gave the best sound and most
pleasant vibrating tone, but sprouts were best for volume.

Over the past few days, a steady stream of Brain Boffins had walked into Danny’s room and stood scratching their heads and stroking their false beards in bafflement. They
had tried various cures, but so far nothing had worked.

They had talked to Danny in his own style of gobbledegook.

‘Tie up the egg roll and fan a broom socket,’ said the professor.

‘I’ve tussled with tumbleweed on a damp and dusty bee,’ pronounced Dr Sri.

‘Flip a goalpost sandwich,’ exclaimed Sister Morris.

Danny stared at them. ‘Snitch the crumpets, bar none,’ he said.

‘What a load of rubbish,’ translated Matthew.

Danny woke up one morning and there was a huge cardboard cut-out of Baby Ben Bradshaw staring down at him from the end of his bed. He jumped in fright, but it didn’t cure
him.

Neither did being tapped gently on the head for an hour with a Wonderfluff nappy.