Well I mean, honestly, fans – does this country really need so much rain? It’s been pouring down for over a week already, and I think I’m going out of my mind! Ever since my neighbour Mr. Lewis put a new corrugated roof on the shed that I live in, the non-stop noise of water drumming on metal has been slowly driving me crazy. But that’s it, I’ve had just about all I can take – desperate times call for desperate measures! So I’ve decided to soundproof my home, and to equip myself for the job I know just where to go to purchase the necessary supplies:

Life Stratterjees, here I come!

For those who are unfamiliar with Life Stratterjees, this is of course a local convenience store run by two enterprising brown rats called Sony and Tony Ratterjee. The same couple has managed the shop for years, filling it to the brim with every kind of household commodity that anyone could ever want, from foodstuffs to paint strippers. The one downside for humans would be that British coins and bank notes are not legal tender here. However you can pretty much barter anything you like for items on sale in the store, and of all the currencies you can use to trade for goods, the top favourite is live earthworms. That’s because these are a staple food for most of the shop’s customers, meaning they are always in high demand. With this in mind, I’ve just spent the morning digging up a whole kilo of them to ensure I have enough money to buy my supplies, so now I’m wheeling them in on my trolley to see what I can get in exchange. And I’m in luck! Here comes Tony Ratterjee himself, giving me a cheerful wave from the other side of the room. Apparently he’s just spotted me entering the store and he’s heading straight over to greet me…

‘Well, well, Mr. Grumpkin, we haven’t seen you for so long time! How are you?’

‘Oh hello, Tony, I’m fine thanks, and yourself?’

‘I am fine also, thanks so much for asking. I see you are bringing us very many earthworms, exactly what we are needing as we have just run out! So Mr. Grumpkin, what it is that you are wanting to buy today?’

‘Well, Tony, I’m really hoping you can sort me out with some good quality soundproofing,’ I tell him. ‘What sort of stuff do you have in stock?’

‘Ah, if it is soundproofing you are after, then I have just the thing for you,’ he says. ‘Come with me and I will show you a very considerable amount of excellent soundproofing materials, including tools, an instruction manual, and all the extra bits and pieces you will require in exchange for no more than one trolley-full of live earthworms.’

This is an extravagantly good offer, and so, ‘Thanks, Tony, that’s a real bargain! It seems I can always count on you to do me a special deal,’ I exclaim happily.

‘Well, of course a special customer like you always deserves a special deal, Mr. Grumpkin,’ he responds with a beaming smile. And true to his word, in no time at all he has supplied me with everything I need to carry out the job. So without further ado I set off on the road home, congratulating myself on this ingenious solution to my problem, and at long last anticipating a good night’s sleep!

Once back in Grumblemore, I waste no time in unloading my trolley and laying all the tools and materials out on the floor. Then I turn to the manual for instructions as to how to soundproof my bedroom ceiling using the panels bought for this purpose. I am pleased to see that it all looks fairly straightforward, and so up the ladder I go to remove the old ceiling. Next I need to fill in the space between the joists with some acoustic insulation, which is stage one of the procedure, and at the end of about three hours of intensive work this is finally complete. Unfortunately, though, it is only as I contemplate stage two that I realise that my skills may fall rather short of the required standards. It appears I must now fix metal rods to the joists at a perpendicular angle and with a precise distance of just 50mm apart… but if this is not done correctly then the screw holes in the soundproof panels won’t line up with the holes in the rods, so I won’t be able to attach them to the ceiling. Oh, for goodness’ sake, does this mean I need help?

Who, ME, the world’s greatest Super-Rat?

I think not!

So with a grunt of exasperation I grab one of the long metal rods in one hand and a drill and a tape measure in the other, then puff and growl my way up the ladder to the top. But it’s here that I realise I can’t properly measure the joists while at the same time holding onto all this paraphernalia. Therefore after a moment’s reflection I drop the rod so as to make the required measurements for my first hole, which is soon drilled to perfection. This strategy works so well that in next to no time I have drilled precision holes in several more joists. Delighted with my progress, I then descend the ladder to pick up my screwdriver, a pocketful of screws, and the first of the metal rods which I’m about to attach to the joists. However, it now emerges that I have a new problem. Since I’m stretching far above my head to do this work, I can no longer see to marry up the holes in the rod with the ones I’ve drilled in the joists. That means I can’t put in the screws, which are now falling to the floor faster than I can pull them out of my pocket, and I am rapidly losing my temper.

‘Come on, come ON, darn it!’ I cry, as I finally push a screw into the right place and it connects with the hole. Pleasantly surprised, I then apply the screwdriver to propel  it in all the way, only to find that it’s gone in crooked. ‘I don’t believe it, what else can go wrong today?’ I snort in anger, reversing my last action and withdrawing the screw. But before I can get it back in straight, it somehow slips from my grasp, drops down behind me and rolls out of sight. Upon this, I am just peering round to see where it went when I lose my grip on the ladder, and suddenly everything goes black…

Well, fans, exactly how I got here remains a mystery, but as soon as I open my eyes again I’m shocked to see a bunch of strangers gathered round my bed, all wearing pale coats and stethoscopes and peering down at me with a high degree of concern. I notice there’s a strong smell of disinfectant and a lot of commotion, and little by little I realise that I can’t move my right arm or either of my legs. As I raise my gaze, two among them are arguing over which ward I am to be sent to, and as I lower it again, my startled eyes settle on three white tubes where my limbs used to be.

‘Oh, no – I’m a triple amputee and these are my new prosthetics!’ I tell myself in fright. ‘Here am I, one thousand three hundred and thirteenth in line to the Throne of Rattyland, minus three of my limbs! Now how in the world can I ever be king?’

In the meantime it seems that the bellicose pair of white-coated staff have at length put aside their differences and reached a truce on the matter of my temporary accommodation. As a result one of them turns to me and says, ‘Right, Mr. Grumpkin, you clearly can’t go home in your current state, and unfortunately there are no spare beds on either of our wards, so for now we’re going to have to put you on a trolley in the corridor, I’m afraid.’

‘In the corridor?’

‘Not to worry, Mr. Grumpkin, you’ll be absolutely fine. Ms. Australis here will see you have everything you need,’ the doctor assures me. ‘Now can I get someone to wheel this patient out, please?’

‘No, no, you can’t put me in the passageway, this is outrageous!’ comes my indignant cry. ‘I’m Lord Grumpkin of Grumblemore, for heaven’s sake, I demand that you find me a proper bed in a ward!’ But to my dismay, I see that no one is listening and the team of doctors have already moved on to examine the next patient. With that, I am just about to protest again when a couple of burly toads step up to move me out of the room, and it’s then that I catch my first glimpse of the gorgeous young female rat assigned to my care. And in that blissful moment I sense our destinies intertwining in time and space like two delicious cheese strings melting into one…

‘Good day, mate!’ she says in a cheerful yet unfamiliar accent. ‘My name’s Aurora Australis, and I’ll be in charge of your rehab.’

‘You will…?’ I murmur, hardly believing my luck.

‘Okay, Grumps, ready for your first workout? Let’s get you wiggling those fingers and toes! Right, then, on my mark:  And – UP, down, UP, down, UP, down!’ And sure enough, as if in a hypnotic trance, up and down go the digits of my hands and feet in time with her rhythmic voice.

Unfortunately though, all this exertion is surprisingly tiring and so it isn’t long before my eyes close and I drift off to the land of dreams. Here I and the beautiful Aurora are walking hand in hand among the palm trees on a sunny tropical island. We are deeply in love and have the whole beach to ourselves. The sand is warm beneath our feet, the swishing sound of soft rolling waves fills the air, and in the enchantment of the moment we pause and catch each other’s eye. Then, as though by some irresistible magnetic force our faces draw together. But just as our lips are about to meet, a huge crash breaks the spell:

Someone’s knocked a tray full of surgical instruments onto the floor!

I can’t believe it, what dreadful timing! My eyes shoot open to see the flustered female turning to ask if I’m okay. But something’s wrong. She now looks very different and her voice has changed… Oh, no – who on earth is this?

‘I’m so sorry, Lord Grumpkin, that was really clumsy of me,’ she tells me in a distinctly British accent. ‘You poor thing, as if you haven’t been through enough today, you must have had the fright of your life! But don’t worry, I’ll be right back with a nice hot cup of tea and you’ll feel better in no time.’

Yet so far from soothing me, her kind words are only winding me up. ‘What are you doing here, and what have you done with Aurora?’ I demand to know.

‘Oh, Aurora went off duty ten minutes ago, Lord Grumpkin. I’m your night nurse, Nurse Glob. I’ll be seeing to all your needs till eight o’clock tomorrow morning, so if there’s anything you want, just shout!’

I assure you, fans – if ever a name suited anyone, this one is a perfect fit! Unlike her charming predecessor, she is indeed a great big shapeless glob of a creature, as grey in personality as she is in colour. Honestly now, how can such an ordinary rat possibly compare to the sleek and well-toned Aurora, whose brown and white marbled coat shines as brightly as her Australian wit? I can feel it even now… my nose is wrinkling and my entire body is stiff with contempt, yet this brainless lump of lard seems quite oblivious to my resentment!

‘Nurse Glob?’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ she says, ‘it’s actually short for Globula, but nobody’s called me that since I was a child, so the nickname has just stuck, somehow. But enough about me, Lord Grumpkin, what we need to focus on now is getting you well again. It’s my job to help you do that as soon as possible, so let me go to the kitchen and get you some tea and biscuits to build up your strength. Is there anything else I can get you while I’m there?’

‘No, thanks, you needn’t bother, I’m going back to sleep,’ comes my testy reply.

‘Oh, no, it’s no bother at all, I promise you. It’s such a privilege to be looking after you, Lord Grumpkin, it truly is!’

And do I detect a little flutter of the eyelashes here? Well, I mean, REALLY – is she trying to flirt with me now?

At this point I decide that the best way to convey the message that I’m totally not interested is to fall into an instant, very deep slumber. Accordingly my eyes snap shut and I begin emitting loud snoring sounds. But this does not have the intended result. Instead my snores are mistaken for signs of choking, and before I know it, three doctors in white coats have grabbed hold of my legs, suspended me upside down and started pounding my back to free my airways. This, however, has a distinctly adverse effect on my broken limbs, which are now crying out in agony. In response to that I let out a great shriek of pain, but do they take the hint? I mean, how loud do I have to shout? So far from halting this torture, someone performs a wanton act of mercy and jabs me in the rump with a needle as thick as a tree trunk! With this, blackness overwhelms me like a fog and I quickly pass out… and that’s all I can recall till I awake in due course with three limbs suspended in the air by a crane poised over my bed.

Well naturally, fans, by this time I am absolutely livid! Thanks to the medical incompetence of this hospital I will now need months instead of weeks to recover from my injuries, and who knows when I’ll be fit to return home? This whole affair is a thundering disgrace, I’ve a good mind to write to my MP! Or better still, why not report it to the press? Well, there’s an idea, why didn’t I think of that before! All I have to do is go to the payphone at the bottom of this corridor and call Channel Eight News. Given the great scoop they got after my abduction by aliens last year, I bet they’ll be delighted to hear from me and they’ll be round here like a shot! All right, I’ve unhooked my arm from the pulley, now let’s just release my legs…

And – oh dear, something’s wrong, I’ve yanked too hard on the crane! Now the wretched thing is tipping over, and it’s dragging my whole body down too! I see the beautifully tiled stone floor rushing up to meet me, and try as I may I can’t make it stop..

No, no, this must be a nightmare, it can’t be real –

SOMEBODY HE-E-ELP!