Honestly now, my final few weeks in hospital were absolutely crazy! After a string of accidents which saw me go through multiple sets of leg plasters in record time, I hardly knew which way was up anymore, and this turmoil was only increased by the bewildering state of my love life. I mean, did I like Aurora Australis, or didn’t I? She was smart, she was gorgeous, and by outward appearances she was all I could wish for in a girlfriend… but she was also wantonly rude, demanding and insensitive. How was it, then, that I seemed so blind to those faults whenever I was near her?

On the other hand, there was Nurse Glob. Nurse Glob was everything that Aurora wasn’t. She was simple, she was ugly, she was clumsy in the extreme. She was the furthest thing possible from anyone I imagined being attracted to, but she was also thoughtful, kind and caring. When I was near her, she mostly made me cross. Yet when she left my side, somehow there was an empty space that nobody else could fill, and I found myself bored and lonely till she was back again. 

Confused? You bet I was!  But sooner or later all unpleasant things come to an end, and so I was eventually discharged from hospital with high hopes of trading in both of the above for a brand new romantic interest. However – yes, you’ve guessed it, fans! – so far from this, after returning home my misadventures in the love department only went from bad to worse.

It all began after my army friend George McAcker heard my story and offered to introduce me to RatChat, a popular dating app for rodents. Naturally I couldn’t have been more delighted with his suggestion, so I signed up for the service right away. I just couldn’t wait to see the profile pictures of my many potential matches, and sure enough I wasn’t disappointed. But then, oh my, where to start? I hadn’t been browsing through the photos for long before it came to my attention that I was swiping right with almost every profile I viewed, with the result that I had soon ‘liked’ two hundred and twenty seven glamorous lady rats with hobbies and other pastimes similar to my own. (Well I ask you, was it my fault that nearly all of the female users of RatChat were really hot?) With this, in a flash the app launched into action, linking together geographical locations, common interests and mutual friends. Then having apparently deemed me compatible with them all, it lost no time in streaming my personal photos back to the same two hundred and twenty seven RatChat users – of whom two hundred and thirteen then promptly swiped right to ‘like’ me too… and that’s when things took a seriously wrong turn.

Well as you might expect, the prospect of trying to keep up with chat messages from such a great multitude of lady rats was, to say the least, daunting. This led me to think about whittling the number down to a more convenient size, which in turn resulted in a stroke of pure genius! After all, what could be a more effective way to eliminate those who fell short of my requirements than to set them a written test? If successful, this would leave me with a small, eminently manageable portfolio of candidates whom I could then date on a ‘try before you buy’ basis till I made my final choice. So with this in mind I set about compiling a suitable questionnaire, which for your information I have copied below:

Please answer all the following questions fully and honestly:

1.  Are you generally punctual?

2.  What work skills do you have?

3.  Can you cook?

4.  Do you like cleaning?

5.  Are you any good at digging up worms?

6.  How many heavy bags of shopping can you carry uphill?

7.  Do you snore?

8.  Are you an early riser?

9.  Do you sing in the shower?

10. How would you cope with having a celebrity boyfriend?

When I was satisfied with my ultimate version of this form, I sent it off to all two hundred and thirteen of my matches, then settled back with several flasks of black coffee to await their replies. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t blown away by what happened next…

As expected, around three quarters of the recipients didn’t bother to reply, for which I was truly grateful. Those were they who, having recognised their own shortcomings in these matters, had actually helped me by disqualifying themselves from the contest. Then, out of the fifty two who took the trouble to complete the form, a further fifty gave one or more unsatisfactory answers to my questions, in so doing forcing me to rule them out. All this left me with just two contestants still in the running, which you would think would make things pretty straightforward. But as I was about to find out to my cost, nothing is ever straightforward once jealousy has entered the mix.

In the event, from the start the two remaining candidates did not hesitate to show that they were no shrinking violets. One of these, who went by the username of ‘Mad Hatter’, was darkly attractive and appeared over and over again wearing an alluring combination of sunglasses and some very cool peaked caps. She also added an awful lot of ‘skis’ to the ends of her words, a foreign trait which only increased her air of mystery and intrigue. Nevertheless, when it came to beauty, the second candidate was easily her equal. Using nothing but the simple first name ‘Mave’, she was pure white with a blue-grey nose and ears, and posed for her online photos adorned with wreaths of flowers round her head and neck. I can tell you right now, fans, she was stunning! It would certainly be a hard job to pick just one of these to be my true love, which meant I would really have to rev things up if I wanted a clear winner. So to this end, after some reflection I decided to invite them both to a night of Latin dancing with South American food at the local Community Centre. But there was a twinkle of mischief in this proposal. As I was in fact Latin Dance Champion of 2019, I didn’t want to test their salsa skills so much as their ability to laugh at themselves when my fancy footwork left them standing… 

Or at least, that was the plan. 

With hindsight, asking two ladies out on a date to the same venue at the same time might not have been my smartest move, as evidenced by the heated exchange which ensued when they realised that I intended to divide my affections between the pair of them for the duration of the event. However, that was nothing compared to their behaviour at the dinner table. Unfortunately Mave decided that her food was lukewarm, and so made a complaint to the waiter. At this, Maddie (AKA the Mad Hatter) demanded that she be thrown out of the establishment as a troublemaker. But instead the waiter chose a more diplomatic solution and went off to exchange the meal, leaving the Mad Hatter to vent her anger on Mave by pouring a generous portion of salt into her glass of wine. Outraged, Mave then leaned across and tipped the spoiled wine over Maddie’s plate, whereupon the Mad Hatter jumped up in fury and slapped her smartly round the face. And who knows where this all might have ended if I hadn’t intervened to ask one of them to dance! 

Indeed, so explosive was the atmosphere that I scarcely had time to notice which of the two it was, till at length I found myself on the floorboards with Mave, whirling and twirling her about in step with a rather steamy samba. To be fair she might not have been the most athletic of partners, but what she lacked in agility she more than made up for in passion, as became plain shortly after we started, when I spun her around so fast that she fell headlong onto the floor, pulling me down on top of her — and, oh my goodness, WHAT a kiss that was! 

Surprised and delighted by her initiative, I was just snuggling closer for some more of the same, when like a red hot comet on a collision course with Earth, into our midst plunged the flaming mad Mad Hatter!

‘Just what do you think you are doing with Grump-ski? Get your big, fat, oversized bum-ski off him NOW!’ she cried, grabbing Mave by the neck and hurling her forcefully across the room. With that, my unlucky dance partner landed on her rear end and then continued her forward momentum on the polished floor, all the way out of the door and into the arms of Brute the Bouncer, a burly black rat hired to eject hooligans from the premises. And that was the last we saw or heard of her for three months, until by and by her updated RatChat page showed her smiling bravely at the camera while wearing an orange jumpsuit.

Straight after this, and despite my most vigorous protests, Maddie seized my arm and dropped me onto my back. Then with all the skill of a world class bowler she sent me flying between her legs, swiftly turning to haul me up again as I came out the other side. Next she took me by both hands and made me lean backwards with my feet touching hers, following which we rotated at breakneck speed to the pounding beat of bongos. But just as I thought I was going to be sick, I was abruptly set free and sent reeling down to the floor, only to be hoisted back up with less than a second to go before impact. Then for her pièce de résistance, and to the huge delight of the onlookers, the Mad Hatter lifted me high in the air and whizzed me repeatedly round her head till, with my skull pointing earthwards, she unexpectedly released me. And after that, the next thing I remember is waking up in a room with a strangely familiar smell…

Oh, surely not!

As I blinked in disbelief, here I was again: in bed on a hospital ward, with the ever dutiful Nurse Glob at my side, her look of concern now morphing into a happy smile.

‘Oh my dear Lord Grumpkin, I see you’ve been in the wars again, you poor thing! But I’m going to take great care of you, so don’t you worry, we’ll have you up and about in no time. Now I was just going to the kitchen to get Aurora a cup of tea. Shall I get you one, too?’

‘What, is Aurora on duty as well, then?’ I asked in surprise, aware that the two of them normally worked on different shifts. But I was quite unprepared for the nurse’s reply:

‘Oh, no, Aurora is here as a patient, Lord Grumpkin. See, there she is in the bed next to yours,’ she told me, pointing to the one on my left. ‘Sad to say, you both seem to have had some sort of accident on the dance floor last night. You have a concussion after falling on your head, and she apparently tripped over her shoe and broke her ankle in three places. She only came back from the operating theatre an hour ago.’

‘She did…?’

As incredible as that sounded, a cursory glance at the bed in question confirmed that the sleeping patient was indeed none other than my physiotherapist, Aurora Australis. But something about her face didn’t seem right, and I couldn’t work out what it was. Was it her ears? …her nose? …or maybe she just looked different with her eyes closed? I was on the point of giving up when, roused from her slumber, she suddenly turned and fixed me with a lingering gaze.

‘Hello, Grump-ski,’ she murmured seductively in an unconvincing Russian drawl, ‘and how is the head-ski today?’

Then at long last it hit me like a blast of dynamite:

What, you mean SHE was the Mad Hatter?

And now here she was, acting just as if I was flirting with her too! Did she seriously think she could woo me with her fake foreign accent, those fancy caps and sunglasses, and the cheap brown hair dye which barely masked all the white patches on her face and body? If that’s what she believed, she was really deluded! By now I was so angry that my thoughts were going off like fireworks in my brain and I couldn’t even speak. Aurora, however, had no such difficulty…

‘Oh, and by the way, sorry I dropped you yesterday,’ she went on. ‘Someone cut in just as I was about to put you down, and well, I couldn’t say no, could I? He’s quite a catch you know, very handsome and a much better dancer than you are, Grump-ski. Once the ambulance took you away we danced together all night, then just as we were getting ready to leave, my shoe-ski came off and I fell over. After that they brought me straight here for surgery.’

‘Well, poor you!’ I said sarcastically, snapping my eyes shut to block her out.

‘And guess what, he’s coming to see me later,’ Aurora carried on happily. ‘I expect he’ll want to say hi to you, too, if you’re awake.’

‘Oh, and why would he want to do that?’

‘Well, he says you two are friends, actually.’

‘I doubt that very much, none of my friends are Latin dancers,’ said I, snorting with derision. 

‘Well this one certainly is, and he says he’s a neighbour of yours,’ she insisted. 

‘A neighbour who’s a Latin dancer? All right then, who is this guy?’ One of my eyelids cracked open just enough for me to scan her for more funny tricks.

‘Well, obviously we have our own pet names for each other: he’s my Romeo and I’m his Juliette,’ she whispered confidentially,’ but I’m sure you’ll know him by the nickname that all his mates use: it’s ‘Mac the Hacker’, of course.’

Hearing this, my mouth opened very wide for several seconds. And then I fainted.

Well as you can imagine, everyone, following yet another leg surgery I was much the worse for wear and feeling horribly low in spirits. Despite this, however, nothing cheered me up more than the daily physiotherapy sessions I enjoyed with Aurora Australis, with whom I shared a deepening friendship and a number of common interests. Who would have thought, for example, that like me this lovely Australian therapist had not only previously served in the army, but also developed a real passion for seeking gold? I mean, honestly now, was it not fate that brought us together? The more I reflected on it, the more I couldn’t wait for the time when I would finally be well enough to return home to Grumblemore, so that I could introduce her to my army friends and we could go dredging for gold in the nearby stream! But for some unknown reason I just seemed to keep suffering one health setback after another. Every time the doctors were about to discharge me a new issue would arise, so that as long as two months after being admitted I was still no closer to leaving hospital. And I can tell you fans, that totally sucked! 

Meanwhile the notorious Nurse Glob was still a thorn in my side, and indeed I strongly suspected her of being the mystery lover seen in Gypsy Georgette’s vision. As you will recall, this crystal ball gazer had once paid me a visit in which she predicted that someone on my medical team would fall in love with me and try to prolong my stay here for her own selfish ends, even going so far as to cause me injury to achieve this goal. Well, surely no one could have done more to injure me than Nurse Glob! To date she’d had me suspended by my broken legs to cure a mistaken case of choking, thrown a scalding cup of tea into my lap, and set in motion an accident that wrenched all the surgical pins out of my newly repaired leg-bone! Moreover, there could be no doubt about her feelings for me, since she had made these abundantly plain on many occasions. So now the only question was, what on earth was I going to do about it? I was still contemplating this thorny problem when, quite unexpectedly, a solution arose from a rather unusual source… and I’d be lying to you if I said that merely imagining such a mischievous prank did not spark in me a truly devilish delight! 

It all began on the day when I discovered there was a weird little thing called a placebo, which, as it turns out, is a drug with no active properties at all. Now exactly why a hospital should prescribe such a useless remedy still escapes me, but the instant it came to my attention, a light came on in my brain. You see, it’s a known fact that when we take a medication, its effectiveness isn’t just down to the quality of the product itself. A major part of its success is our belief that it will heal us. Faith is key! If we think a pill is going to take our pain away, it probably will. But the converse is also true. It appears that our minds can also play tricks on us, inducing physical symptoms that make us think we are ill when we aren’t — and once I knew that, I had a flash of sheer genius:

What if Nurse Glob could be conned into believing she was allergic to me? 

Inspired by this unlikeliest of ideas I straightaway set about devising a plan, which in the event proved a lot harder than anticipated. 

For my first attempt I used pepper, which I sprinkled liberally over my head and shoulders in hopes that when the nurse approached me she would have a sneezing fit and mistake it for an allergic reaction. But that quickly backfired when I inhaled the stuff myself, went into paroxysms of coughing, and had to be rushed off to the bathroom for an emergency shower. 

For my next attempt I acquired a kitchen knife and a raw onion, my intention being to rub myself with the chopped vegetable in order to make her eyes water if she got too close. But while secretly trying to slice the onion under the bedclothes I also cut my finger. I then required smelling salts due to the sight of my own blood, a general anaesthetic due to my aversion to needles, and a large and very ugly stitch to the resulting wound. However, I’m pleased to report that after twenty two more failed attempts to achieve my goal, the ruse which I finally came up with impressed even me.

Of course as I realised from the get-go, this was never going to be a straightforward affair. For starters, just getting hold of the right ingredients was quite a headache. After all, it was hardly the simplest of things for a person with three limbs in plaster to pilfer hospital items without being noticed (especially when one of these was a hefty container of cleaning fluid), so it was a couple of days before I had at last accumulated everything I needed. Then once I’d got all the necessary bits and pieces, I immediately set to work to create my masterpiece: the world’s most powerful hand gel! You see, in accordance with today’s health and safety regulations there must be a container of hand cleanser at the foot of each bed, and all staff are expected to make thorough use of this before approaching the patient. My idea was simply to replace those contents with a noxious blend of chemicals that would give Nurse Glob some unpleasant stinging and a nasty rash whenever she smeared it on her hands, thus causing her to stay away from me. To my mind it was totally foolproof and nothing short of brilliant!

Exactly what was in this concoction? Well, obviously I can’t reveal any trade secrets here, but suffice to say that I successfully disguised the strong odours of ammonia and other substances with the scent of crushed lavender flowers, to make what in the end (at least in my opinion) resulted in a truly fragrant product. And to my great surprise, I soon discovered that I wasn’t the only one who thought so…

‘I say, Lord Grumpkin, this gel is absolutely wonderful, I just can’t get enough of it!’ pronounced the beaming Nurse Glob, as she smoothed a dollop of the goo between her fingers and breathed in the wild, intoxicating fumes. 

‘Is that so? Sorry, I wouldn’t know, they all seem the same to me,’ I lied.

‘Oh no, this one is definitely in a class of its own, it reminds me of an exotic perfume I once bought in Paris,’ said she, thrusting her hand under my nose. ‘Here, see for yourself.’

The next second, a sharp burst of lavender shot up my nostrils and brought tears to my eyes. ‘Ah yes, very nice,’ I said, as I yielded to a pleasant fuzzy feeling in my head. 

‘It’s almost like incense, the aroma makes you warm all over,’ went on the nurse.

‘Yes, it does rather… and happy, too,’ I agreed, as a balminess spread through my body like mulled wine at Christmas.

‘You know I’ve never told you this, Lord Grumpkin, but you have the most beautiful ears,’ she told me in a whisper, her face drawing nearer to mine.

‘I do? Well, now you come to mention it, Nurse Glob, I’ve always thought that you have a really sweet smile,’ I replied, lifting my face towards hers. 

‘Oh, Lord Grumpkin, you say such romantic things,’ she murmured. Then as our heads continued to converge, she puckered her mouth in anticipation of my next move. 

Romantic things…?

WHAT??!!! 

This was the ugliest nurse on the ward, what was I thinking? Desperately seeking a way out, my brain went into overdrive. And then it came to me: 

‘Oh no, I think I’m going to be sick!’ I cried, abruptly pulling back from her.

‘What? Oh, dear — quick, take this,’ she responded, as she shoved a kidney shaped bowl under my chin.

At that, I grunted and grimaced convincingly for a while, then when I felt a suitable moment had passed: ‘Well, I don’t know what happened just then, but I feel fine now,’ I told her.

‘So glad to hear it, Lord Grumpkin, for a minute there you had me worried,’ she said. ‘Look, why don’t I go to the kitchen and make you a nice hot cup of tea to settle your stomach? And while I’m there I can make one for myself too, if you like. Then we can sit together for a while… just till we’re sure you’re fully recovered, that is.’

‘Oh yes, that would be great, if you’re not too busy, of course.’

‘Never too busy for you, Lord Grumpkin.’ And again came that little flutter of her eyelids that I always found so charming.

‘Right, well, thanks a lot,’ I said, noticing for the first time all the pretty golden colours glinting in her grey fur.

‘You’re welcome,’ she said, smiling broadly. And then she left the room.

I mean REALLY, what in heaven’s name was wrong with me? How could someone that I’d so despised suddenly become so irresistible? None of it made any sense, which fact hit me harder still when shortly afterwards I realised that my feelings for Aurora had changed too, and not in a good way – as I found out when a coarse, familiar voice sawed through my peace and quiet like a screechy violin:

‘Good day, mate, ready for your daily workout? All right, Grumps, today we’re going to focus on getting your heart rate up with some nice strong arm and leg exercises. You’ll need to get out of bed for this one, so here, let me give you a hand.’ Then after I had grudgingly done as I was told, ‘Right, then, let’s get you started with fifty jumping jacks. Now I want you to do exactly what I do, and keep in time with me, okay?’ With this she took a deep breath and gave me the nod. ‘And — ONE, and TWO, and THREE, and FOUR, and — all right, what’s going on, Grumps? You’re half asleep, for goodness’ sake! Come on, wakey wakey, let’s lose that attitude and pick up the pace!’

It was unbelievable that I hadn’t seen it till now, but this brash young Aussie was actually very rude. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more she stood out by a country mile as being by far the most unpleasant person I’d ever had the misfortune to meet! As to how I could possibly have persuaded myself that I liked her, well, that was a total mystery. All I wanted now was to see the back of her for good, but for reasons which entirely passed me by, it appeared that fate had other ideas… or at least, that’s what I reckoned at first.

And so it was, that as I bounced obediently up and down to the rhythm of Aurora’s jumping jacks, I accidentally cracked my leg plasters together, causing them to split open and fall off. As a result I was in instant agony and collapsed in a heap on the floor, clasping my lower limbs and writhing with pain. But in spite of this, if I expected any sympathy from my therapist I was clearly going to be disappointed.

‘All right Grumps, no need to worry, you’re absolutely fine! Well, now that you’re lying down, why don’t we use that new position as an opportunity to strengthen your arms? Right-oh then, when I say go, just slip your hands underneath you, push down as hard as you can on the floor, and sit up. Are you ready? Okay — go!’ Then after I had nearly burst a blood vessel with the effort of raising myself up, ‘Well done, Grumps, excellent work! Right, now give me four more push-ups like that and we’ll call it a day.’

Needless to say, after yet another visit to the plaster room where I received two new leg casts, I was totally exhausted and only just managed to finish my supper before falling into a dead sleep. However, soon after I shut my eyes I was jolted awake with a start.

‘Hey, Aurora, what are you doing here? I thought your shift ended hours ago,’ I exclaimed in surprise, as a darkly beautiful female face emerged out of the shadows above me.

‘It did,’ she answered, ‘but after your little misadventure earlier I just wanted to make sure you were all right before I went home. So how are you feeling?’

‘Well, now that you ask, not great, I’m afraid,’ I said, inhaling her perfumed hands as she moved to smooth my bedclothes.

‘You poor thing, you’ve been through such a bad time, you must be absolutely miserable to be stuck in hospital like this,’ came the response. Then she bent lower to murmur in my ear, ‘So tell me, what can I do to make your stay here more comfortable?’ 

‘Oh… I’m not sure, Aurora, but I appreciate the kind offer,’ I mumbled as I drank in her aroma.

‘Well, everyone who knows me says that I’m a very kind person,’ she stated in return, her warm breath tickling my whiskers.

’Really? Yes, of course you are, I could see that from the moment I met you,’ I mumbled hazily. For what seemed like an infinity, as if in a trance we gazed deep into each other’s eyes. Then somehow our mouths joined together, and before we knew it we were lost in a kiss… and so our rapture continued till a sudden crash broke the spell.

‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry! I must have had the plates badly stacked, they started to slip sideways and then they just fell off the tray,’ apologised the flustered Nurse Glob as she stooped to gather up the broken pieces. 

‘That’s okay, Nurse, you carry on, I was about to leave anyway,’ said Aurora cheerily.

‘Oh no, please don’t leave on my account! I’ll have this cleared up in no time and then I’ll be out of your way,’ the nurse replied.

‘No, honestly, the last bus leaves in five minutes and I’ll have to get a wriggle on if I want to catch it. Well, good night, Grumps,’ said the Aussie, ‘see you tomorrow.’ And after pausing for a brief parting kiss, she turned on her heels and was gone.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Lord Grumpkin, I can be such a klutz sometimes! I didn’t mean to interrupt your tête-à-tête,’ the Glob went on, plainly still embarrassed.

‘Not to worry, after all you didn’t do it on purpose, did you?’ I said sympathetically.

‘It’s just that, well, I didn’t know that you and Aurora were seeing each other, you see, so it caught me unawares, and then I dropped the plates.’ She was blinking a lot now, and I wasn’t sure why.

‘That’s all right, Nurse, anyone can make a mistake,’ I told her, trying to put her at ease. But for some reason this didn’t help.

‘Oh, Lord Grumpkin, you’re so nice to me!’ she observed in a shaky voice. Then without a word of explanation, she promptly burst into tears and fled out of the ward, howling all the way. And that was the last I saw of her for three whole days…

But it wasn’t the end of the story.

Oh, what a difference a day makes, fans! Things were all going swimmingly, and indeed I was well on the road to recovery when just a few weeks ago I received a fateful visit from the crystal ball gazer known as Georgette del Magico. I mean, honestly, now, who still believes in fortune telling today? After all, aren’t gypsies famous for the great stories they tell their customers? How could I have known that the bohemian’s dire predictions for my life were not, as I thought, a thumping good theatrical performance, but actually real? And worse than that, how could I possibly have guessed how soon they would come to pass? For sure enough, the very next day after Gypsy Georgette’s dramatic vision I found myself back in hospital again, and then before I knew it, by slow degrees everything fell apart…

It all began so innocently. I had turned up at the Outpatients Department in plenty of time for the X-rays that were scheduled to determine how my bones were healing after the accident — or should I say, accidents. The first of these misfortunes had occurred at home, as a result of falling from a ladder while trying to soundproof my ceiling. Then shortly after I was admitted as a patient, some of the doctors (who mistakenly thought I was choking) suspended me from my broken legs to clear my airways, in so doing compounding my injuries. And then finally, yet a third calamity ensued when I tried to get out of bed to go to the pay-phone, instead toppling headlong onto the stone floor where I sustained a minor concussion. I ask you now, how unlucky can a person get? 

Well, as it turns out, quite a lot unluckier than that…

Of course, being an international celebrity I am well accustomed to the flattering attentions of lesser mortals, who commonly stop me in the street to ask for my autograph, or a selfie with their faces next to mine to post on social media. Since arriving here, however, what I have never managed to get used to are the constant interventions of the medical staff that disturb me day and night. I mean, for goodness’ sake, if it isn’t somebody wanting to take my temperature or jab me with a needle at all sorts of ungodly hours, then it’s someone serving breakfast before dawn, or supper when I would normally take my lunch. Believe it or not, the other day I even had a nurse wake me from a deep sleep at six in the evening in order to give me a sleeping pill! 

But if there ever was a REALLY annoying nurse, then surely it would be none other than the aptly named Nurse Glob, who, as per her normal practice, on the day in question was making herself useful by inventing pointless jobs to do. There I was minding my own business, simply sitting in a chair and waiting to be called by the radiologist, when for absolutely no reason at all she brought me an unsolicited cup of tea, whereupon she suddenly tripped and spilled it all over me just as I was taking it from her hand.

 ‘Aaargh! Help, I’m on fire!’ I screamed, leaping to my feet in agony as I clasped my scalded knees.

‘Oh, Lord Grumpkin, I’m so sorry, that was terribly clumsy of me! Here, let me wipe you dry, ’ she responded, pulling out her hanky to dab off the tea.

‘Get that thing off me,’ came my indignant cry, ‘I need a skin graft, not a blanket bath! Someone take me to the Burns Unit before I die of pain!’

‘Now, now then, do try to calm down, Lord Grumpkin, it’s really not that bad. See, your skin is barely even pink, and as everyone knows, applying tea to a burn is in fact an excellent remedy.’

‘What, are you completely mad? With logic like that, I suppose you’d say that a good remedy for a bee sting would be to swallow the bee!’

‘Well, actually…’ But before Nurse Glob could continue she was interrupted by a rather spectacular bird calling me from a nearby room.

‘Grumpkin Rat?’ she enquired, glancing up briefly to note my multiple limb encasements. ‘I’m Dr. Maggie Pie, the radiologist. I understand that you’ve recently had one or two little falls, so let’s see how you’re doing today, shall we?’

One or two little falls? I was just beginning to think that no one here had the slightest respect for the gravity of my condition, when who should appear out of nowhere but my favourite physiotherapist in the whole wide world — the winsome and wonderful Australian practitioner, Aurora Australis!

‘Good day, Grumps, how’s it going? You know, you’re not looking so good. If you’re thinking of losing the plaster casts, you should probably wait a bit longer till your strength comes back.’

‘Well, thank you, Aurora, my thoughts exactly,’ I said, my heart welling up in gratitude at the sound of those words. Oh, what a huge moment this was – she alone had understood me! She had seen past my masquerade of bravery and into the very depths of my soul. But was this merely friendship, or the seed of true love? That wasn’t clear, but it did make me decide one thing: I must at all costs keep up the physiotherapy till I knew the answer for sure…

Meanwhile I had my X-rays as planned, and then returned to the waiting room to allow Dr. Pie enough time to scrutinise them before giving me the verdict. After that, it wasn’t long before she called me back in to explain the situation.

‘Well, I’ll get straight to the point, Mr. Rat,’ she began, taking her laptop and swinging it round to face me. ‘I’m afraid we have a bit of a problem. What you see here is an X-ray of your left leg showing the pins we put in to secure it in the proper position. But as you will notice from the picture, two of the pins have slipped out, meaning that the leg has now started to heal crooked. Of course this is not the result we wanted, and I’m very sorry.’

‘Okay,’ I said, as the message gradually filtered through, ‘but you can fix it, right?’

‘Oh, yes, we can certainly fix it,’ the doctor answered. ‘Unfortunately for you, though, this will mean further surgery.’

‘I need another operation?’ At that, heaviness rolled over me like a tidal wave. Surely this couldn’t be happening! I would squeeze my eyes shut, then when they opened again, none of it would be real. But when they flashed open and I heard the doctor still speaking, I knew I wasn’t dreaming.

 ‘In such a case as yours time is of the essence, so I’ve arranged for you to be admitted today. We can carry out the procedure this afternoon,’ she told me. Then her voice softened, and she peered at me kindly before adding, ‘I realise of course that all of this must come as quite a shock to you, Mr. Rat. Do you have any questions that you’d like to ask me?’

‘Well, yes, there is one, Doctor,’ I replied, as I swiftly gathered up my scattered thoughts. ‘How long is it going to take before I’m back on my feet?’

‘All being well, you could be walking on crutches in just a few days,’ she said, ‘but we must be realistic. Complete healing won’t happen overnight. Sad to say, it’s going to take many weeks till you’re fully back to normal.’

‘Many weeks?’ For a moment I slumped forward in my chair, overwhelmed. Then I looked up and said, ‘Will I still go on having physiotherapy?’

‘Oh, definitely! Physiotherapy is essential to your recovery, so after surgery you’ll be prescribed daily sessions for at least the first six weeks,’ came the answer.

Daily physiotherapy sessions? With this news, at long last I felt a smile slowly break across my face. 

‘Are you in pain, Mr. Rat?’ enquired Dr. Pie in mild surprise.

‘No, actually, all my pain is gone now,’ I said, beaming back at her.

‘It is?’ She appeared sceptical, tipping her head sideways to fix me with a penetrating stare. ‘Well, I’m sorry to say that might be a bad sign, Mr. Rat, so in light of this I think we really need to act immediately. We’re going to have to get you prep’d and into surgery as soon as possible! Please wait outside while I check to see which operating theatre we can use.’

‘What, you mean, now?’

‘Loss of feeling in an injured limb can be extremely serious, Mr. Rat, so if you want to walk again, I’m afraid there’s no time to lose.’

I don’t recall much about what happened after that. But it seems things must have moved along pretty fast, because before I knew it, someone was asking me to count backwards from ten. Well, I tried my hardest to oblige, and in all fairness, I did manage to get back as far as eight. However, it was then that I realised I hadn’t a clue what came next, and despite fighting against it for as long as I could, everything finally went black…

As for the operation itself, despite being prolonged and difficult, this was nonetheless pronounced a resounding success by Dr. Whizzle the Weasel, my orthopaedic surgeon. Following this I was returned to the ward to regain consciousness, where bizarrely, the first awareness that came to me was a powerfully strong smell of lavender.

Lavender? In a hospital? 

No, that had to be a mistake, it just didn’t make any sense! So I prized open my eyelids and squinted carefully around me, trying to solve the mystery. And that’s when I saw it: a huge great lavender plant sitting on the table next to my bed, with a gold ribbon tied around the pot and a little envelope tucked into the bow. Still groggy from the anaesthetic, I reached over and removed the ‘Get well’ card from the envelope, only to discover that by all appearances I had a secret admirer. Well naturally, fans, having admirers is nothing new for me, since as you all know I’m a world famous superstar with a massive fan base. But what was intriguing here was the fact that whoever had written the card had simply signed it with three large X’s, implying something rather more than admiration… and with this I was instantly wide awake!

‘Nurse!’ I called out to a passing member of staff. ‘Did you see who gave me this?’ Then as she shook her head and hurried on to the next patient, I caught sight of Aurora Australis just entering the ward, lowering her eyes to avoid mine. But why wouldn’t she look at me? And then the penny dropped. Of course, I should have guessed it from the start — this enchanting creature was in love with me! That explained the anonymous gift which she must have left as a romantic gesture, hoping that I felt the same way. Oh happy accident that caused our paths to cross, how willingly would I have suffered a thousand falls just to have her near! Then surprisingly, she, too, rushed on by without stopping, so that my gaze fell instead on the grey and glutinous Nurse Glob who stood by my bedside — a veritable varmint that seemed forever glued to me — and I was filled with disgust!

What, was she still here?

Didn’t she have any bed pans to empty, or perhaps a cup of tea to throw over some other poor, unwary invalid? Surely she must have many patients to attend to, so why spend all this time with me? Yet despite that, she clearly wasn’t going anywhere and it was starting to feel a lot like being stalked. Then, as if she had read my mind: 

‘Nice plant, Lord Grumpkin, would you like me to water it for you?’ she asked with a cheery smile, her nose thrusting deep into my personal space.

‘Very nice,’ I snapped back, ‘but no, thanks, that won’t be necessary.’

‘Ah, now, we mustn’t let it dry out, must we?’ she insisted. ‘It would be such a pity to let it die, why don’t I take it to the kitchen and give it a good drink?’

‘I said, thanks, but no thanks,’ I insisted in my turn. 

‘It’s no trouble, honestly,’ she said, ‘I’ll have it back again in a jiffy.’ And then before I could say another word, she had seized it with both hands and marched it off to the kitchen. 

Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so shocked by what happened next. After all, Gypsy Georgette’s words were still ringing in my ears, and it wasn’t as if I’d had no suspicions about this nurse… however I was completely unprepared for what she did on her return.

‘Here it is as promised, safe and sound,’ she announced as she replaced the plant on my bedside table. And then, ‘I don’t do this sort of thing for all my patients, you know, it’s just such an honour to have you to take care of, Lord Grumpkin! Now is there anything else I can do for you before the end of my shift?’ 

Noting with distaste that little flutter of her eyelashes again, I responded with a curt: ‘No thanks, Nurse, that will be all.’

‘Well, at least let me adjust your bed for you. You’re sitting almost bolt upright, you’ll never get a good night’s sleep like that.’ 

So saying, she grasped the crank that was meant to lower it, and then gave it several tugs, but to no avail. ‘Dear me, something must be stuck,’ she muttered, changing her grip and trying again. Then when that didn’t work either, she took a step back, gathered her strength, and gave it a mighty kick. Upon this the whole bed collapsed, yanking my leg out of its sling and unpinning all of its newly repaired bones!

‘AARGH, AARGH!!’ I screamed, overcome by excruciating pain. 

‘Now, now, then, Lord Grumpkin, it’s really not that bad,’ said Nurse Glob. Look, I’ve put your foot back up in the sling, and everything’s fine. After all, everyone knows that it’s good to move about after surgery, it helps the circulation and speeds up the recovery process. So sleep well, and I’ll be back to see how you are first thing tomorrow morning.’ Then after bending forwards, she whispered these words in my ear: ‘Sweet dreams, my dear Super-Rat. Here’s something to remember me by till we’re together again…’ 

And with that she closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and planted a great big sloppy wet kiss on my forehead!

Well, hello fans, and may I say what a pleasure it is to finally be back home! It’s been many weeks since I fell off a ladder while soundproofing the ceiling, and after such an extended time in hospital I can’t tell you how good it is to be able to sleep in my own bed at long last. Of course, I’m not on my feet again yet. Unfortunately, my right arm and both of my legs are still in plaster owing to a number of compound fractures which have had to be surgically reset. But in spite of this I’m delighted to report that the accident has brought some unexpected blessings. First, I’ve been assigned a gorgeous physiotherapist called Aurora Australis, who’s been putting me through a rigorous regime of exercises which she will now continue to help me work on at home. And second, thanks to my neighbour George McAcker (or ‘Mac the Hacker’ to his friends) I have just taken possession of a brand new device that is able to control all the appliances in my house by means of commands that I can shout at it from the comfort of my own bed! Okay, so let’s give it a try… 

‘Lexie, turn on the lights!’

Well, blow me. I haven’t touched a thing, yet thanks to the wonders of modern technology the lights have just come on all by themselves! All right, then, how about this:

‘Lexie, close the curtains!’

And, yes, brilliant! All the curtains are closing themselves while I do nothing but snuggle back into my pillows. I tell you the truth, fans, I could get used to this! Now let’s see, what else can I get it to do? 

I know: ‘Lexie, make me some coffee!’

Good job George left the coffee machine all ready to go by my bedside. I see it bubbling into action as a delicious aroma starts to fill the air. It smells simply divine, and I can’t wait to taste it! I hear the machine clicking off as it finishes the job, so I lean eagerly over to my right to collect the steaming mug… and then, as my arm encased in plaster falls inches short of its target:

‘Lexie – call George and get him round here IMMEDIATELY!’

Sure enough, in next to no time there’s the sound of someone knocking outside. ‘Lexie, open the door,’ I call out. Then to my surprise who should enter the room but a total stranger – a skinny little house mouse bearing a large flat box.

‘Your pizza, sir,’ he says, passing it to me as he speaks.

‘Pizza? I didn’t order a pizza,’ I tell him, grabbing it with my left hand to save it falling off the bed.

‘Well somebody did, so that will be five pounds I’m afraid, sir.’

‘What? Five pounds? How on earth could a mix-up like this happen?’

‘Sorry sir, don’t have a clue. All I know is, someone from here called George’s Pizzeria a few minutes ago and ordered a tomato and mushroom pizza.’

‘They did…?’ 

This has got me really foxed, but by now the warm, inviting smell rising from the box is making my tummy rumble. ‘Oh, well, never mind, come to think of it I am a bit peckish, so perhaps I’ll take it after all,’ I say, reaching into the purse that I keep under the sheets..

‘Thank you sir, enjoy your meal.  And don’t worry, I’ll see myself out,’ he says as he turns to leave. Then as soon as he’s gone I tear open the package and take the first delicious bite of my unplanned meal. 

However more minutes pass and there’s still no sign of Mac the Hacker, so I’m beginning to wonder what he’s playing at. 

‘Lexie, where is George McAcker?’ I demand impatiently. 

‘The current whereabouts of George McAcker are unknown,’ is her reply.

‘Unknown? What kind of an answer do you call that?’ 

‘I call that kind of answer correct,’ states the voice. ‘The current whereabouts of George McAcker are unknown.’

‘Well, can’t you track his movements on the internet?’ 

‘Unable to comply. No tracking device for George McAcker has been detected.’

‘But that’s ridiculous, surely there’s some way you can find out where he is? Now stop making excuses and get on with it!’

‘Unable to comply,’ comes the stock reply.

‘For goodness sake, you’re totally useless! Fine, then I’ll do it myself,’ I explode. ‘Lexie, pass me my keyboard so I can go online.’

‘Unable to comply,’ says Lexie for the third time. Then just as I’m about to read her the riot act, there’s another loud knock at the door… 

‘At last, what in the world took him so long?’ I exclaim, sitting bolt upright in bed to welcome my friend. But it isn’t Mac the Hacker who strides into the room. Instead I come face to face with a large crested newt who has brought with him an even larger bag of tools.

‘Lord Grumpkin, is it?’ he asks, dumping his oversized tool bag on the floor. ‘Sorry I’m late, I came as quick as I could from another emergency callout. But from what you said on the phone this shouldn’t take long, so why don’t you show me the leaking pipe and I’ll fix it right away?’

‘Leaking pipe, what leaking pipe? Who are you, the local plumber?’

‘Me? I’m George Jones, the odd job man. I can fix anything from electricals to waterworks, and I’m also a decorator and a master carpenter. So what can I do for you today, Lord Grumpkin? Your call indicated it was urgent.’

‘I’m sorry, there seems to be some mistake. I haven’t called you today or any other day, and I certainly haven’t requested a callout.’

‘You mean, you don’t have any dripping taps or blown fuses for me to fix?’ 

‘Sorry, no.’

‘No furniture to repair?’

‘No.’

‘No paint jobs that need doing?’

‘Uh-uh.’ I shake my head.

Then without missing a beat, ‘Right, then, that will be forty five pounds, please,’ he says, standing there expectantly.

‘You can’t be serious! You’ve done no work, yet you’re asking to be paid?’

‘Oh, no, forty five pounds is just my call-out charge. After that, as my customers know, any work I do is charged at sixty pounds an hour, and then VAT is added on top for both parts and labour. I’m really surprised that you weren’t aware of that, Lord Grumpkin. Didn’t you read the Ts & Cs on my website?’

‘I thought I made it quite clear to you that I have no need of an odd job man, Mr. Jones! So no, I didn’t read the Ts & Cs on your website, or on anyone else’s website for that matter,’ I growl back from between clenched teeth.

‘Ah, well, that explains it then. It was an expensive mistake, but you’ll know better next time, won’t you? Take my advice, before you call out a tradesman you should always read the Ts & Cs.’ 

‘But I didn’t call you out!’ I shout back at him in fury.

‘Of course you didn’t, Lord Grumpkin, and that’s why I’m here,’ he says simply. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I have another customer waiting for me and I am running a bit late, so if you’ll just give me my money I’ll be on my way.’

With that news I feel all the blood leaching out of my brain and into my racing heart, and as I struggle to restrain my temper the room begins to spin. But then I am astonished to hear myself say, ‘Okay, but all I have is a fifty pound note. Do you have change?’

‘No problem,’ he replies. And then I watch in horror as my hand passes him the cash.

It’s only when he’s gone that I take full stock of the damages. For the animal population of this country, human currency is extremely hard to acquire, and as such, is at a premium. But despite this, it seems that in a moment of insanity I have just given away nearly all of the Pounds Sterling that I possess. Therefore since in my condition I’m hardly fit enough to dig for worms (which are the traditional animal currency), I have no clue as to how I’m going to be able to pay for goods and services till I’m well again. Oh, what have I done? Overwhelmed by my own stupidity, I am just sinking into the pit of despair when there is one more knock at the door. But before I have time to respond it bursts abruptly open, whereupon yet a third stranger sweeps into the house. Now I find myself struck dumb at the sight of a dark rat clothed in a scarlet flamenco dress, with a purple shawl draped mysteriously across her face as if to conceal her identity. Who in heaven’s name can this be? Then as if she’s read my mind, she leans towards me and in cool, calm tones, answers my deepest unspoken questions…

‘Ah, Lord Grumpkin, you poor soul! I see you are filled with worry, in such a flurry over what the future holds! Do you want your fortune told? Then come to me, I’ll not withhold the truth exposed by my crystal ball.’

‘You can foretell my future?’ I am both amazed and delighted at the prospect.

‘Indeed I can,’ she tells me. ‘I am Gypsy Georgette, born with the gift of second sight to the world famous Del Magico family. But now be warned! I can’t do right unless I tell you all, keeping nothing back. In other words, you should know that whatever I say, no matter how black, will most certainly befall you.’ With this she peers into my eyes with an intense, hypnotic stare. 

‘It will…?’ I murmur helplessly, my gaze melting into hers.

‘Without a doubt! But remember this: in the speed of a lightning strike I can out the truth and reveal your fate, but once this is done, your predicted future can’t be changed. It will unfold at a time too late to undo your foreknowledge of it. So consider this well: is knowing it in advance really what you choose? For while you may have much to gain, you’ll also have much to lose.’

‘Yes, yes, I choose to know, please tell me all!’ I reply in an enraptured haze, entirely caught up in her spell.

‘If that’s your choice then I’ll gladly be the voice of your future,’ she says. ‘And you may be confident of this – once you turn to Gypsy Georgette, what I see is what you get!’ 

Then suddenly, I know not from where, she has produced a little table. Onto this table, amid much arm waving and incantation, she now places a crystal ball, which has started to brighten with a glowing light that beams out from its core. Now she bends her head over the orb and draws her purple wrap down over her face, so that she alone communes with the crystal and its secrets, while I am left in bed to observe the scene before me in silent awe. Minutes pass with much moaning and mumbling and heaving about under the shawl, till I’m beginning to wonder if the whole thing is in fact nothing more than a prank, a cruel hoax intended to make fun of my misery. But then next instant, in a wild and sudden move, Gypsy Georgette casts her wrap backwards onto the floor and leaps to her feet with a great gasp of emotion.

‘What is it, what’s wrong?’ I cry in alarm.

‘Oh my – I’m so sorry, Lord Grumpkin, the light was blinding, I just couldn’t look anymore! That’s never happened before.’

‘Is it bad news?’ The question falls from my lips in a hushed whisper.

‘Not bad news, exactly,’ comes the response. ‘To put it matter-of-factly, I’d probably call it surprising, that’s all.’

‘Well, what did the crystal ball tell you?’ By now I can hardly wait to hear.

‘Oh, goodness, where to start…? Let’s see, as I recall it all began with a ladder and a fall, then after that I saw you in a hospital bed with a pretty female taking care of your needs. She was using beads to try to get your fingers and toes to strengthen their grip.’’

‘That’s right, I fell from a ladder weeks ago while doing some DIY. The female you saw must have been my physiotherapist, Aurora Australis.’

‘Yes, but then later that night a different person took over your care. You had not been aware of the staff change, but one way or another this event led to a second accident where you were injured again and left in great pain.’

‘That’s all true, Gypsy Georgette, but why are we talking about my past?’ I say in disappointed tones. ‘I thought you were going to tell me something I didn’t already know.’

‘Have no fear, I shall soon speak of your future, Lord Grumpkin,’ she replies. ‘But first I must make something clear: Not everything you thought was true at the time was what it seemed.’

‘What…? What are you saying, that I didn’t fall? That I have no broken bones?’

‘Oh, no, you fell all right, and you broke many bones. That’s not what I mean. This has to do with the night of your fall and your medical team.’

‘My medical team?’ Now I am at a loss to understand her.

‘Yes. You should know that there’s one who stands to profit from your plight, who on that night made sure it would take many weeks before you could walk again.’

At this the full horror of her statement knocks me sideways. ‘But who on my medical team would do such a thing, and what could he possibly gain by it?’

‘What could SHE gain by it? Well, here is the shocking truth: On the night you were admitted, a certain person fell deeply in love with you and vowed that she would never let you go. Now she has you bound by the belief that only she can bring relief to your injured limbs. And because it’s in her best interests for you to take as long as possible to get well, I’m sorry to say she’s taken extreme measures to achieve that goal.’ Then seeing my stunned expression, ‘Do forgive me, you must be totally bowled over by this news.’ 

‘Who is she? Tell me, I have to know!’ I spit the words out.

‘If only I could, Lord Grumpkin! But on pain of death I am forbidden to name or even describe this person to you. Despite this, I must warn you again that though she seems to be your friend, she is in fact very dangerous and will pursue you to the end. Indeed, it was after seeing her face that I was blinded by the light just a few moments ago.’

‘But you can’t leave me like this, you have to help me!’ I cry in desperation as I watch her gather up her things. ‘Please tell me something, anything, that can give me a clue to her identity!’

‘Think carefully back over the things I’ve had to say, Lord Grumpkin. You’ll find the answer that you seek in the words I spoke to you today…’ And with that mysterious remark, just as suddenly as she swept into my house, she is gone.

Now I lie in bed drained as if from a heavy bout of flu. Too weak even to think, let alone move, I am just slipping into a dreamless sleep when a familiar voice rouses me from my stupor:

‘There are no more people who have the first name George or any similar first name listed in the telephone directory,’ announces Lexie. ‘Do you now wish me to call all those people who have the surname George?’

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!

Well, naturally, fans, I was furious! I mean, it doesn’t get more outrageous than this: I had just saved our military base from a bunch of ruthless criminals, when all of a sudden I was accused of being a French spy and then thrown into a cell with those same bloodthirsty bandits! This gang, which is called Rumpus, is one of the most notorious of its kind in the country, so it was going to take all the wits and guile that I possessed to make sure they didn’t kill me on the spot. Indeed, by my reckoning I would be extremely lucky if I survived as much as a couple of hours in their company…

But exactly who are these guys?

As it turns out, they are all black rats who for security reasons are protected by the strictest anonymity. Never even knowing one another’s true identity, they go instead by the code-names A, B, C, D and E. In order to recognise each other they wear personalised uniforms – black football shirts that blend seamlessly into their dark fur – which, as if to mock the police who are always three steps behind them, sport the name RUMPUS in shiny gold capitals on the front and back. Beneath that logo each person’s capital letter appears in white edged with red, and then the slick, professional look is topped off with a pair of scarlet gloves to avoid leaving handprints. I tell you, these brutes are nothing if not stylish! But more than that, between them they have all the brains and brawn they could possibly need to outmanoeuvre the law, making them untouchable – meaning that now I had been delivered into their hands, there was only one way to escape from them alive:

I would have no choice but to play them at their own game, and win!

With this in mind I lost no time in small talk. The instant the door clanked shut behind me I turned to my cell mates and began the biggest, boldest bluff of my entire life:

‘Well, this is a fine mess you’ve got us into!’ I cried, as I worked myself into a steaming temper. ‘Did you seriously think you could rob an army base and get away with it? Don’t you know that nearly all career criminals eventually end up in prison? I mean, what were you thinking!’

For a moment the five bandits just stood before me in amazement, stunned by my performance. Then E said, ‘Aren’t you the rat who set the whole room sneezing and got us all caught? What on earth are you doing here?’

‘Well, turns out you bandits have a reputation for being pretty smart. So when I came up with my sneezing trick, they said this idea was far too clever for me not to be one of you,’ I lied, crossing my fingers behind my back. ‘They claimed that “us robbers” had planned to use the sneezing to create confusion in the Control Room, and then shoot everyone dead so we could take over the base. No one would believe me when I said it wasn’t true.’

‘Is that so?’ B said, eyeing me suspiciously. ‘Well, if that’s the case, then where’s that little harvest mouse who first started sneezing? Why don’t they think he’s one of us too, and why didn’t they throw him in here with you?’

‘Ah, you mean Captain Buffalo. I’m afraid he’s in no longer in a position to be locked up with anyone,’ I told them in a suitably grave voice. ‘Suffice to say his interrogation got a bit too rough, and sadly, he didn’t make it.’

‘Well, that may explain what happened to Mousey,’ went on B, ‘but contrary to what the army says, you are not a member of Rumpus, and we have no use for outsiders. In fact so far from being useful to us, from our point of view you’re very much a liability.’ He fixed me with a menacing stare.

‘A liability?’ Fear gripped my stomach as I realised things were taking a bad turn.

‘Yes. You’ve seen us up close and personal in ways that no one’s ever done before, so you’re a real threat to our security. And we can’t have that, now can we?’

Then as the group of five stepped towards me in a move that was clearly hostile, my lips parted and out came this swift retort:

‘Possibly not, but you could have this!’ I exclaimed, upon which I yanked a large leather box out of my jacket to reveal my latest trophy:

A one-gram nugget of pure gold!

At this they promptly snatched it from me and began arguing amongst themselves. Then when in due course they were forced to concede that it wasn’t fake:

‘All right, where did you get this?’ demanded A, his devilish eyes boring right through me as I struggled to keep my cool.

‘Well, for obvious reasons I can’t tell you that. But if you’re interested, I could offer my services to help you find your own gold,’ I suggested. ‘In fact I’d say that if you want to get rich quick with no risk of a prison term, then without a doubt, prospecting for gold should be your career of choice.’

‘Really…?’ For once it seemed I had struck a chord and they were beginning to take me seriously. ‘So you’re saying you can actually help us find gold?’

‘Well, for a price, of course.’

‘A price! What do you think this is, a business opportunity?’ scoffed A. ‘Rumpus doesn’t pay outsiders. If you want to live, then help us. Don’t help us, and you’re dead!’

I stared back defiantly. ‘If you don’t want my help, then by all means kill me. But if you do, then pay me what I’m worth!’ came my brazen reply.

By now I could sense quite a change of mood rippling through them, so I boldly pressed my advantage…

‘Look, I’ve been told it’s highly likely we’ll be put on the next ferry to Calais. If that’s so, we should all find hiding places during the trip and then get together again when we arrive,’ said I. ‘After that, assuming I’m going to be paid for my trouble, I’ll take you to a quiet little place I know in France where you can start learning the ropes in your new career. But as for my fee, I’m afraid that’s non-negotiable. I want ten percent of the profits, or it’s no deal. So what do you say… are we agreed?’

The black rats exchanged questioning glances.

‘All right, we’ll give you one chance to prove yourself, and if you come up trumps, you’ll get your fee,’ said B. ‘But just remember, Rumpus has many creative ways to dispatch of outsiders, so you can be sure of this: if you let us down, you will never see Britain again!’

Then, trying my best to sound calm and confident, ‘Fine, let’s shake on it,’ I said.

‘Okay, it’s a deal,’ he replied, extending his hand.

And so having finally sealed our agreement, the six of us settled down at last to await our journey to France.

Thus it was that by and by we were unceremoniously removed from our cell and airlifted by the Seagull Division onto the next ferry boat to France. There as planned we hurried to hide ourselves till such time as the boat docked in Calais, upon which we had arranged to meet up and embark on a quest for gold. In the meantime I was worried, and with good reason. I hadn’t a clue where to find such precious metal in France, and the clock was fast ticking down to the moment when I would be exposed as the quick-thinking trickster I really was! So the question was, how in the world was I going to get out of this mess?

As it turned out, I didn’t have long to wait for an answer. The second that I spotted the pamphlet lying on the floor, the words just jumped out and smacked me right between the eyes:

SEE THE PIRATES’ COVE AT PORT BARA

What – there was a pirates’ cove at Port Bara…? You mean, there was a real place where pirates of old hid their priceless treasure, and we could actually go there and look for it? I couldn’t believe it, fate had smiled on me at last! Now all I had to do was get us to Port Bara on the ‘Wild Coast’ as soon as possible, so that the gang could strike it rich and I could escape with my life. However, if I was foolish enough to think that all this was going to be easy, then I was very much mistaken…

Once we got to Calais, the Rumpus gang and I hooked up again in a quiet corner of the ferry boat to discuss how we would get to Port Bara. Both A and C thought that the best way to travel would be by car, so with this suggestion we slipped in among the crowds returning to their vehicles in hopes of finding someone who was heading south west. And it didn’t take long. Soon E was signalling that he’d found us a suitable ride – a young couple with a little boy, who just happened to be discussing their upcoming visit to the Pirates’ Cove as they rearranged the luggage in their four-by-four. Then while the humans were looking the other way:

‘Right, you three jump in the boot and the rest of us will hide under the seats’, whispered A to B, C and E. ‘Just keep your ears open, and I’ll give you a knock from the inside when it’s safe for us all to leave.’ After this, he, D and I hopped in through one of the rear doors and concealed ourselves under the back seat, with me tucked away beneath the child seat. And then before we knew it, the engine roared into action and we were off. But what we couldn’t have guessed before we got on board was how long it would take us to get there – more than ten hours including pit stops – during all of which time I had to endure the persistent kicking of the couple’s six year old son!

This said, in due course we arrived safely at Port Bara and managed to successfully exit the vehicle without being noticed. Since the family had chosen to drive at night to make the most of their short winter break, by now it was mid morning, and the weather was rather chilly thanks to some strong gusts of wind coming off the sea. Despite this, however, the adrenaline rush we got from being so close to the Pirates’ Cove warmed us from the inside out, and we felt invincible as we started down the sandy track that led to the beach.

As luck would have it, we had timed our visit well as the tide was out, exposing the cove to view. Then racing eagerly towards our goal, we swiftly entered its tunnels and penetrated to places human beings can’t reach. Here we carried out a painstaking but fruitless search for treasure, till just when we thought there was none to find there, D suddenly surprised us with this triumphant cry:

‘Come quick, I’ve found something!’

And sure enough, as we rushed to the spot full of anticipation, he opened his fist to reveal nothing less than a large white iridescent pearl!

Seeing this, and with our first trophy in the bag, I and the others immediately dropped to our knees for a fingertip search of the area to see what else we could find. Then after a few moments B found another pearl, and C and E picked up what appeared to be two small silver earrings! With such excitement we soon lost all sense of time, continuing the hunt till in the end we had added three more pearls and a ruby ring to our collection. But since by now we were feeling the cold, we finally came to the decision to call it a day. Accordingly, we began the slow and painful journey back through the dark tunnel towards the light, proceeding in single file with me bringing up the rear. However it was during this long walk that, quite unexpectedly, something on my left caught my eye. Pausing to investigate, I reached out my hand and closed it over a round, flat object of yellowish hue… only to find myself staring open-mouthed at what I saw there:

A gold coin!

I could hardly believe it, I’d done it again and spotted what all before me had missed – a genuine piece of gold! With that I kept quiet, pocketed my prize and carried on. As a result, when we eventually emerged into daylight I had discreetly squirrelled away not just two more similar coins, but also a diamond ring, a gold cuff link, a pink pearl, and a silver cross on a chain. I was over the moon with my success! However my joy quickly subsided after I raised my eyes to see fierce ocean waves rolling and crashing their way towards the very cave entrance that was our only way out. Was this it…?

Was this the day I was going to die?

With my heart thumping wildly in my chest I shouted to the others, ‘All right, it’s every man for himself, jump in and swim back to the shore!’ So saying I plunged into the water and began beating a path through the breakers, trying desperately to keep afloat so I could paddle my way to safety on the beach. But the current was too strong for me. Before I knew it I was being dragged further and further out to sea and repeatedly dashed against the rocks – then as my strength failed I realised with shock that I was about to go under for the last time… and in that instant it all went black.

As to how long I remained unconscious, I don’t know, but suffice to say that when I came round I was astonished to see that I was gliding through the air with the ocean far below me. Then twisting my head sideways, I got my first glimpse of the dark feathered wings of the one who had saved me and was bearing me inexorably onwards to my fate. Sure enough, I found myself dangling from the beak of none other than an officer of the Cormorant Division of the French border guards! This was bad news indeed, for beneath me the Pirates’ Cove had long since disappeared from view, and as I would soon discover, I was now on the fast track into police custody!

Thus it was that half an hour later I was dropped off at a location known as the Central Directorate of the Judicial Police, the significance of which name was about to become abundantly clear. For as it turned out it was no accident that I and the Rumpus rats had been brought here for interrogation. This was the place where national crimes were investigated, and once French police had unmasked the gang’s true identity, we were all under suspicion of entering the country with intent to commit a robbery. In vain did I protest that I wasn’t a gang member, offering as evidence my conspicuous white colour and lack of a Rumpus uniform. From the moment they emptied my pockets to reveal my cache of jewellery, I was in deep trouble!

‘So, Monsieur Grompkeen, exactly ’ow do you explain all ze bijoux what we ’ave found on your personne?’ demanded the officer, a sharp-faced stoat whose black eyes pierced down into mine from the top of a long, thick neck. So saying, he spread the whole lot out on the table before me.

‘Ah, yes, those… well, I found them in the Pirates’ Cove, you see,’ I explained simply. ‘They were just lying around on the floor, so since they obviously didn’t belong to anyone, I decided to keep them.’

‘You decided to keep zem? And precisely ’ow did you know zat zay deed not belong to anyone?’

‘Er – well, um, strictly speaking, I suppose I didn’t…’ I was forced to confess. ‘But in my own defence, Officer, it did seem rather unlikely that someone would take off their jewellery and just leave it behind in the cave to come back for later.’

‘I see, so even zo you zought eet was een fact possible zat someone might ’ave left ze bijoux and intended to come back for zem later, you decided to remove zem before zay returned?’ The stoat was scribbling furiously on his notepad.

‘Ah, no, you’re over interpreting what I said,’ I objected. ‘What I meant was, since nobody in their right mind would leave their valuables behind in a cave, to me that was a clear indication that nobody owned them, so I was entitled to take them as my own.’

‘No, no, I’m sorry, I cannot agree. After all, ze bijoux did not put zemselves in ze cave, deed zay? Au contraire, a personne deed, and who can say zat zees personne was not ze rightful owner?’ He glanced up from his writing to give me a pointed look. ‘But you should know, zees ees not ze only charge against you, Monsieur Grompkeen. Unfortunately for you, you ’ave many problems.’

‘I do?’ With this news I broke out in a sweat.

‘Of course! In ze first place, you should know zat all what you ’ave taken ees actually trayzor. And in France we ’ave an ’eritage code which says zat trayzor may ’ave special value, and zerefore by law you must declare eet to zee authorities. So because you ’ave not done zees, you must be punished.’

‘Punished…?’ I murmured. ‘B-but I had no idea I was breaking the law, surely you could let me off just this once?’

‘Zat ees not for me to decide, monsieur. Ze Court weel make a ruling concerning all ze charges against you.’

‘What, you mean there are even more charges against me?’ I was stunned.

‘Mais oui, bien sur! At least feefteen so far,’ the stoat replied coolly.

‘Fifteen!’ I gasped. ‘But how is that possible? I’ve only been in your country for a few hours!’

‘Well, in zat case you should be very ’appy zat we caught you so soon, Monsieur Grompkeen. Imagine ’ow many charges would be against you now if you ’ad been in France for a few days!’

Then before I could utter another word, I was slapped in handcuffs and carted off to a small, dimly lit cell to await my upcoming trial. And unaccustomed as I was to the gloom, it took a second or two for my eyes to discern the five black rats that, with fists raised high and teeth bared, were now closing in around me. But to the astonishment of all, just as as they were about to strike, my body shot vertically into the air, slipped between the bars on the window and then floated up to a small silver spacecraft that was hovering silently over the building.

Sad to say, there seems to be a fair bit of missing time in my recollection of these events, so I’m afraid that what happened after this is a total blank. I do however recall waking up the next morning back in my own bed in Grumblemore. I had the mother of all headaches, and a strange, insatiable thirst for a rather rare beverage that you’ve probably never heard of. But don’t be put off, fans, I can assure you that it definitely ranks among the ten most delicious drinks in the whole world:

Mmm… chocolate flavoured caterpillar juice!

Are you sure I can’t offer you some?

As you are no doubt aware, fans, I am an army reservist of some renown, but what you may not know is that I actually come from a long line of British war heroes. Chief among these was my great-great-grandfather Lord Small, a shorter than average rat who was affectionately nicknamed ‘Salvo’ on account of his shorter than average temper. True to his combative nature, Lord ‘Salvo’ Small was completely fearless in serving his country and rose rapidly up through the ranks till he was appointed Admiral of the Fleet in May 1918. He was sadly killed in action when his ship was torpedoed just minutes before the armistice came into force, at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of that same year. And so a whole century later – on Armistice Day 2018 – I could not have felt more privileged to be able to honour his memory at the Rodent Heroes’ Memorial Service which was held in the secret wartime tunnels beneath the Castle of Dover.

May I digress for a moment to say that if you haven’t yet visited this amazing labyrinth of underground passageways, then the experience would be well worth your time. There is a 40-minute guided tour in which you can get a real sense of the historic events that occurred there, starting from the time of Napoleon and ending with World War II. But unfortunately you will not see the rodent tunnels, which are out of bounds to humans and heavily guarded for security reasons. It is here that my regiment still holds its covert meetings and military exercises, making full use of the extensive network of burrows so as to hone the skills necessary to repel an enemy attack.

As for the Armistice Day commemorations which unfolded in that place, our ceremony was certainly a fitting tribute to the brave souls who fell while defending this land. Indeed, stepping forward to lay a wreath in memory of my great-great-grandfather who died exactly one hundred years before, I found tears coming to my eyes as I wondered how in the world I could ever match his selfless sacrifice that saved so many lives. However, little known to me at the time was how soon my own heroic character was going to be put to the test…

It all started at dawn the next day when I was woken by some soft, unfamiliar sounds that seemed to be coming from really close by. At this my eyes shot open and rolled wildly around in their sockets. My heart was pounding fit to burst as I held my breath, struggling to identify the noise. Could an enemy have infiltrated our military base? Was I about to be murdered in my bed? These and many other fearful thoughts tumbled over and over in my brain, till all of a sudden the face of a black rat thrust itself abruptly into mine. Then the face pulled into a frown, and two words exploded from its mouth:

‘You – UP!’ it snorted. ‘Right, zip your lip, turn around, and put your hands up where I can see them.’ And so as if in some sort of hypnotic trance, I obediently rose to my feet and turned, wincing as the intruder slammed a small metal object into my back. With that I swallowed hard and raised my arms in the air, wondering what on earth he planned to do next. Then, ‘Okay, we’re going down to the officers’ mess,’ he told me. ‘I said, come on, MOVE it!  And don’t try anything funny or I’ll blow you away!’  

To the officers’ mess…? Why in heaven’s name were we going there? But as he dug the object even deeper into my spine, I bit back the questions and followed his instructions to the letter till we finally reached our destination.

It must have been about five in the morning when we got down to the dimly lit corridor where this was located. That was much too early for anyone to be at breakfast, even though the clanking of pots and pans on the stove could plainly be heard from the kitchen. But instead of being taken into the mess hall, to my surprise I was shoved under a table that stood near the door, and then given new orders.

‘All right, we’re going to wait here very quietly till Commander Sparks comes down,’ the black rat told me. ‘Then as soon as he does, you’re going to jump out and say that there’s something wrong with the security system and he needs to get up to the Control Room. Now – do as you’re told and no one gets hurt, but try anything clever and you’re dead meat! Got it?’ The question was followed by an ominous click from the object buried in my back.

‘Yes,’ I murmured faintly, my brain working overtime as I tried to picture a way out of the dilemma.

‘Okay, someone’s coming. Get ready, this could be him!’

I couldn’t believe it! He had barely stopped speaking when who should come into view but Commander Sparks, the very same officer to whom I now had to tell a bunch of believable lies. And before I had time to think twice, a sharp prod from behind propelled me straight into his path…

‘Private Grumpkin! What are you doing here?’ asked the no-nonsense Commander, an opinionated grey squirrel who was never, ever wrong. ‘Surely you know that the rank and file aren’t permitted in the officers’ quarters?’

‘Yes, sir, and I’m very sorry to trouble you, but it seems that we’ve got a security problem upstairs,’ I said.

‘A security problem? Well, what’s that got to do with you, Grumpkin? The Control Room will take care of that, now return to your quarters immediately.’

‘Ah, well, you see, sir, that’s exactly the problem. The Control Room hasn’t been responding to any of our communications for several hours now, so that’s raised the alarm. Do you think you could come up and see what’s wrong?’

‘I see, well, it’s probably our WiFi system again. Right, leave it with me, I’ll get the technicians on it posthaste. Now get back to your quarters.’

Then as an extra loud click came from under the table, I scrambled my wits to invent yet another convincing lie. And so, ‘I’m sorry to be a nuisance, sir, but I’m afraid it’s really not looking like a WiFi issue,’ I said hastily. ‘We have grounds to suspect that the Control Centre isn’t responding because it may be under some kind of enemy influence. We need you to come and check it out right away.’

A deep, frustrated sigh steamed out of the officer’s mouth. ‘I knew it, it’s those confounded Frenchies again! The last time they tried something like this they got into the bakery and rolled all our dough into long, thin sticks. Then because you can’t make cucumber sandwiches out of bread sticks, that meant there was no lunch, and so the entire regiment went on strike. On strike, I tell you! I mean, the shame of it! To this day we’ve never lived it down.’ He paused to look me pointedly in the eye. ‘All right Private Grumpkin, standing around like this will get us nowhere, we must get upstairs without delay. Now watch my back, and be prepared for action!’

Be prepared for action? As sensible as the order might have seemed, in the confusion of the moment Commander Sparks had failed to take account of one notable detail: Neither of us was armed.

So with that we now embarked on a tortuous journey up the steep winding staircase that led to the Control Room in the tower. Commander Sparks went first, huffing, puffing, and intermittently announcing his choicest thoughts on the subject of ‘those confounded Frenchies’. Struggling to keep up, I came huffing and puffing after Commander Sparks, while huffing and puffing behind me came the stealthy black rat, his firearm still pressed into my ribs. Then at length we reached the top and found ourselves only steps away from the room that was our Centre of Operations. Upon this the Commander turned to me and said, ‘Wait here while I do a spot of reconnaissance.’ Then he crept up to the door and peered through the glass to see who was inside. After a moment or two his face tightened into a scowl of contempt, and he beckoned me forward with this remark:

‘Right, Grumpkin, I see those confounded Frenchies are playing silly games with us! They’ve hidden themselves from view to make us believe there’s no one there but our own men. Well, we’ll show them, won’t we! Now on a count of three I’m going to kick down the door, and then you and I are going to burst in and take those little creeps by force.’

In vain did I open my mouth to protest the ill-conceived plan. Before I could begin to speak he was already counting down to the action.

‘All right, stand by… Three, two, one, and – GO!’

There followed a great bang as the Commander’s boot connected forcefully with the triple-locked security door.

‘AAAGH!’ he cried as he hopped one-legged from side to side, his hands cradling his crumpled foot.

Then the door opened from within and a person looked out with surprise. ‘Did someone just knock?’ he enquired. ‘Oh, it’s you, sir – I’m sorry, do come in!’

In response to the invitation, Commander Sparks limped in first, huffing and puffing with pain and making various colourful comments under his breath. Then after Commander Sparks came Yours Truly, huffing and puffing with the stress of it all. And finally, bringing up the rear and huffing and puffing with sheer devilish delight came the black rat, who now brandished a pair of pistols as he kicked the door shut behind us. Then next thing we knew, the Commander and I were his hostages and he was in charge of our whole military base…

‘Right, everyone do just as I say, or these two are toast!’ he exclaimed, poking us both in the back of the head with his weapons. Hearing that, a cry of dismay went up round the room as all eyes turned on the aggressor. ‘Now I want you to move away from your desks and get down on the floor,’ came the command. For a second or two there was stunned silence. But then – ‘I said, NOW!’ he barked, and so all personnel duly dropped to their knees.

‘How dare you barge in here and threaten members of Her Majesty’s Armed Forces like this?’ cried the outraged Commander. ‘Exactly who are you, and what do you want?’

‘Did I say you could speak? Shut your trap!’ said the rat, clipping him round the ear with his gun.

Then casting his gaze over the scene before him, he proceeded to select the smallest officer present, a tiny harvest mouse called Captain Buffalo. ‘Hey, you – that’s right, you! Get back to your desk,’ he told him curtly. And when the Captain hesitated, ‘Do it now, or else your Commander gets one in the head!’ So the officer rose to his feet and reluctantly returned to his position. ‘Very good. Now from where I’m standing I see a whole lot of CCTV pictures showing on these computer screens of yours. So what I want you to do, Mousey, is quite simply to turn the cameras off.’

‘Turn them off…?’

‘That’s right. After all, it would hardly be appropriate for you to film our gang breaking into your ammunition store, as I’m sure you’d agree. What we need is a load of guns and dynamite for our next bank robbery, and since this army base has more than enough to spare, that really shouldn’t be too much to ask, now should it?’

So that was the game! These were not Frenchies, as Commander Sparks mistakenly thought, but rather, British thieves out to steal people’s hard-earned cash. Well, we’d soon see about that – I vowed right there and then to take any action possible to thwart their plans and bring them to justice! And as things panned out, I didn’t have to wait long for an opportunity…

I saw my chance when all at once Captain Buffalo went into an involuntary sneezing fit. Being a sensitive, highly-strung mouse meant that he commonly broke into fits of sneezing in times of distress. But of course the black rat did not know this. Instead he suspected the mouse of an elaborate ruse intended to trick him into dropping his guard so he could be overpowered and then taken into custody.

‘Stop that, Mousey! I said, stop that right now!’ he shouted, but to no avail. The poor Captain just could not help himself. The more he was shouted at, the more he sneezed, and the more he sneezed, the angrier became the rat – and that gave me an idea…

Suddenly I went, ‘At-CHOO, at-CHOO!’ And now the black rat rounded on me. ‘Stop it, or I’ll blow your brains out!’ he said menacingly, pushing a pistol into my temple. Then, At-CHOO!’ went Commander Sparks, catching onto my little scheme. And as the rat turned his other pistol on him, the whole room immediately broke into echos of ‘At-CHOO, at-CHOO, at-CHOO! ’ till amid all the confusion he no longer knew which way to point his guns. At that moment the Commander and I exchanged glances. Then with one accord we both wheeled round, grabbed the weapons out of his hands, and took him captive!

Next the Control Room sounded the red alert, and then our base went straight into lockdown till all the gang members were caught and temporarily placed in a holding cell. And when at last that was done, the commanding officer turned to me and said:

‘Good job, Private Grumpkin, but let this experience be a lesson to you. Never be fooled by a perfect English accent, those confounded Frenchies are everywhere! As for this ugly lot, they’ll soon be on the next ferry back to France – and good riddance, I say!’

‘Yes, sir,’ I replied meekly.

‘Oh, and by the way, Grumpkin, didn’t I hear somewhere that there’s a French connection in your family?’

‘In my family, sir? Ah, you must mean my cousin Kvetcher, he’s serving with the Angry Rodent Brigade in Calais.’

‘Is he indeed? Then I imagine he speaks pretty good French?’

‘Yes, sir, just like a native.’

‘Just like a native, eh?’ At this a frown pulled across the Commander’s face. ‘And what’s your French like, Grumpkin?’

‘Oh, none too clever, sir, but I get by.’

‘I see… Hmm, so you get by, do you?’ he muttered. Now he began peering at me from various angles with a monocle that he carried in his pocket. ‘Look here, Private Grumpkin, I must say I find that mighty peculiar,’ he said finally, still drilling into me with his eyes as he returned it to its place. ‘I mean, how many other soldiers do you know here that can get by in French?’

‘Well, now you come to mention it, I’d be hard pressed to think of any, sir,’ I answered honestly.

‘Quite so, Private, and neither can I,’ he said. ‘Therefore it is my solemn duty to place you under arrest on suspicion of being a French spy.’

‘Of being a what…? But sir, you surely can’t be serious – I’ve just helped you save this base from armed infiltrators!’ I exclaimed.

‘On the contrary, Grumpkin, I’ve never been more serious in my life. I’ve had my doubts about you ever since I first heard the rumours about your family,’ he declared, beckoning another officer over to join us. ‘Right, Captain Buffalo, take this character downstairs and put him in the cell with the others till I decide what to do with him. I’ll let you know that later.’

So without further ado I was taken away and thrown into a cell full of bank robbers to await an uncertain fate. But unknown to me then, as I wondered how things could possibly get any worse, I was about to discover the true value of an artful mind… and with that, dear fans, thee began one of the strangest adventures of my life.

Well, I mean, really!  What am I, just some plain and ordinary little lab-rat who exists for no other reason than to be poked, prodded, and pricked with needles for the greater good of humankind? Or am I Lord Grumpkin of Grumblemore, AKA the Acrobatic Aristoc-Rat – four-time winner of the Nat-Rat Angling Trophy, all-round hero of international acclaim, and Genus Rattus World Super-brain of 2017? I can tell you, fans, I am absolutely hopping mad! Someone’s going to pay dearly for this, I promise you – that is, if I ever find out who that someone is… But unfortunately, given the very peculiar nature of the circumstances involved, I fear that this might turn out to be a rather tricky endeavour.

As you may recall, I had just taken some pieces of what I was later told was fool’s gold to the jewellers for evaluation, when all of a sudden I became unexplainably drowsy. Then, because I was unable to speak or respond to Mr. Bead’s attempts to rouse me from this torpor, it was falsely presumed that I was unconscious. In fact nothing was further from the truth. For while my body was indeed dead to the world, my mind was fully alert to everything around me – meaning of course that not only did I hear and understand all that was said, but I know EXACTLY what happened to me during this whole calamitous affair!

The second that Shifty’s countdown ended, my heart jumped in my chest and a strong feeling of nausea spread right through me. At that selfsame instant our craft shuddered briefly, then regained equilibrium as the soft but powerful whirring of the engine carried us away from Planet Earth and out into distant space. Not long after this, without warning the temperature suddenly dipped. But Shifty was on it straight away, barking out orders to her colleague Sham – otherwise known as Mr. Bead – who then restored it to normal in no time at all. Well, clearly these two were not jewellers, were they! So who in heaven’s name were they, and what did they want with me? Naturally enough, these thoughts troubled me greatly, and I soon began to wonder if I would ever see home again.

In due course I noticed a change in the sound of the engine, then another wave of nausea came over me. Next minute there was a muffled clank, and the whirring noise abruptly stopped. At that point Shifty and Sham left me alone, and for quite a while I remained there in silence, still unable to open my eyes or even twitch a finger. Finally I heard Shifty’s voice coming back to the room, and for some strange reason this seemed to put me at ease. But any sort of peace that I might have felt was blown away in a heartbeat when the voice that answered her wasn’t Sham’s…

Before I knew it the two voices were directly overhead, and an unknown entity was speaking in a very odd kind of faltering English. It was as if he was translating phrase by phrase from another tongue, and filling in the gaps with droning noises.

‘Mmm, yes, I see. This is… mmm… what you people call “rattus norvegicus”. A nice enough specimen, but why the clothes, mmm?’

‘I’ve explained that, Number Fifteen, it’s because he’s a special rat, of course. You should know us by now, we only ever bring you the best,’ Shifty said.

‘Mmm… you say special, you mean expensive, mmm,’ came the response. ‘But for experiment purposes, all rats are equal… mmm… mmm… We pay the same fee for rats with clothes, or without them, mmm… So, very sorry, we offer no special price for special rat, mmm.’

I listened in horror as the conversation unfolded. What was that he just said? For experiment purposes…?

‘Don’t be so quick to judge, Number Fifteen, I’m telling you, this rat is different!’ said Shifty as she continued her sales pitch. ‘He’s well worth the extra investment, so if you’re not prepared to up your offer, then I’m afraid it’s no deal. After all, there are plenty of other science labs out there who would jump at the chance to test such a rare creature!’

‘Mmm… nothing about this rat looks rare to me, mmm,’ complained Number Fifteen. ‘However, mmm… if you give me some minutes or so, I can consult with Numbers Sixteen and Seventeen, mmm… Perhaps they will be prepared… mmm… mmm… to “up” our offer, as you say.’

‘Very well, but I need your answer soon. If you don’t want him, I have other interested parties who will look at my specimen today, but it will take us at least two hours just to get to their galaxy!’

Surely my ears were deceiving me! What, I was Shifty’s specimen now?

It seemed like only seconds after this when I became aware of yet more entities in the room, and soon the place was humming with noise as they conferred among themselves. At length one of them said, ‘All right, mmm… you will leave us now to begin our work… mmm… mmm.’

‘Leave? But wait, where’s my gold? The terms of our agreement plainly state that I must be paid in full before you start your experiments!’ protested Shifty.

‘No, this agreement is not satisfactory, we make new terms now, mmm… First we verify specimen quality, mmm… If he is special, as you claim, we will pay you a higher price, mmm… mmm… If he is not special, we will pay you nothing, mmm.’

‘Nothing? What do you mean, you’ll pay me nothing?’ Shifty cried indignantly. ‘You can’t go around changing our agreement like that, it’s outrageous!’

‘Mmm… First we test the specimen. If he is not special, we do not pay, mmm… We think this is reasonable. We have plenty of average rats already, mmm.’

‘I don’t believe it, Sham and I came all this way because you said we had a deal!’ she exploded. ‘How dare you spring this on us at the last moment!’

‘Mmm… Your intentions are not clear, mmm… mmm… You are saying you no longer wish to proceed with the tests, mmm…?’

‘Oh, for goodness sake! All right, then, have it your way, you have one hour to test the rat. But if you don’t implant him after that, I’m taking him to the next galaxy!’

What? They were going to implant me?  Somebody HE-E-ELP!!

The sheer fright of it all prized my eyelids open just enough to see several blue-grey creatures with huge black slanting eyes approaching my couch. One of them was holding the biggest, noisiest dentist’s drill I have ever seen in my life, and as I watched in horror, he plunged it sharply down towards my chest.

‘No, no, STOP!’ I shouted as loud as I could in my head –

And then I fainted.

In my dreams I was was floating in blackness, turning gentle somersaults as I rolled further and further from the alien ship and out into empty space. I recall feeling rather dazed, and since I was lost and alone in the universe, wondering how it was possible that I could still hear the voices of others around me. Then as I slowly started recognising some of their words, I strained with all my senses to catch hold of what they were saying.

‘Well, Number Four, as we told Shifty, mmm… this rat is certainly not very special,’ one of the voices remarked. ‘Still, mmm… I have to confess that his tail is a little longer than usual for rattus norvegicus.’

‘Yes, that is a plus point, Number Six. Also, his condition is quite good for his age, I think,’ said Number Four.

‘And I see he has nice, strong, active brain waves that would transmit well from Planet Earth, mmm, mmm,’ Number Six concurred.

‘That is true. But is he really worth the price?’ asked Number Four.

‘Yes, that is the question. So… let us settle this with a game of rock-paper-scissors, mmm, mmm… The first pair of matching hands will decide his fate, mmm… We get two papers or two scissors, and he is rejected. We get two rocks, and we implant him. Agreed?’

‘Agreed,’ said Number Four. ‘All right, then – go!’

‘No, that is one paper and one scissors. Try again!’ said Number Six.

‘No, now we have one rock and one paper. Again!’ said Number Four.

And then – ‘Two rocks!’ they both cried in unison, so loudly that my eyes shot open with the shock.

‘Look, he is awake. Quick, sedate him!’ one of them said.

And that’s the last thing I remember before I woke up at home.

It was the soft, bird-like trill of my newly acquired mobile phone that finally roused me from oblivion. I lay there for a moment trying to figure out where I was and what had happened to me, but my mind was a complete blank. At length, since the phone was still ringing for my attention, I swung my legs off the bed and stood up to answer it – then promptly collapsed on the floor.

Seriously, fans, I was as floppy as a plate of jelly. What on earth was going on? And then it came back to me: of course, till now I hadn’t been on Earth, had I? I’d been off-world on an alien spaceship! Well, that explained everything, I was clearly experiencing the after-effects of zero gravity. I knew these would eventually pass, but in the meantime I had to find a way to get that telephone. So with that, I half wriggled, half dragged myself along the floor till I reached the device. But just as I went to tap ‘Answer’, the ringing stopped. Incredulous, I paused for a moment to mutter a few choice words under my breath… then with a deep sigh I began slowly and painfully dragging myself back to bed. However, no sooner had I got comfortable under the covers when I was once more startled by the soft, persistent chirpings of my mobile phone…

I couldn’t believe it!

Oh, NO – did I actually have to make that excruciating journey all over again?

Thus it was that panting heavily with the effort, I struggled back to catch the call with just seconds to spare before it cut off for the second time.

‘Hello,’ I gasped, ‘who’s there?’

‘This is Channel Eight News,’ the voice replied. ‘Am I speaking with Lord Grumpkin of Grumblemore?’

‘Yes, that’s me, what can I do for you?’ I asked, working hard to get my breath back.

‘Well, sir, an unidentified object was seen hovering over your property last night. We wondered whether you were aware of it and could tell us anything about it?’

‘Aware of it? Well, of course I was, I was in it, wasn’t I!’

‘You were in it?’ The voice sounded astonished.

‘Yes, the aliens were just bringing me home after implanting me,’ I explained simply.

There was a prolonged pause. And then: ‘Okay, let me be sure I’ve got this straight. You’re telling me that you’ve been implanted by aliens?’

‘That’s right, yes.’

‘I see… Uh, sir, would you be prepared to give us an exclusive interview about this? I can assure you, Channel Eight would pay you a very competitive price for your story.’

‘You would?’ My brain began generating pound signs. ‘Oh, well, then, why not!’ I said happily, as thoughts of paying off the Superstore and dispensing with the services of Hervor and Sissy the Mink flooded me with new strength. ‘Let’s see, it’s around eleven o’clock now, and I can be ready for you in about two hours. So when would you like to come?’

And sure enough, two hours later the TV crew arrived.

They were a motley bunch. Blink the Mouse was their cameraman, a heavy-set toad called Butch was the producer, and the reporter was Voley the Vole. For some reason Channel Eight had sent two editors – Spike the Hedgehog and Mike the Rat, who couldn’t agree about anything – together with a sound engineer named Bear, who despite being a very small shrew, quite literally ran the show. All of this created many heated arguments. Subjects ranged from what was or wasn’t the right kind of lighting for the prevailing weather conditions, to the person who was meant to have brought the sandwiches. Meanwhile Butch took great exception to taking orders from anyone, particularly from small shrews. And determined as he was that no one was going to interfere with HIS exclusive story, he set about to make it as hard as possible for Bear to get a word in edgeways. Thus it was that as a result of all the chaos, the interview got off to a rather shaky start…

‘Ready?’ Butch the producer asked Blink the cameraman. Then as he nodded back, ‘Right, then – ACTION!’

‘So, Lord Grumpkin, perhaps you could begin your amazing story by telling us how you came to be abducted by aliens,’ said Voley the reporter, full of excitement. But before I could open my mouth to reply:

‘CUT!’ shouted the producer. ‘Come on, Voley, we’ve been through this. Lord Grumpkin has never actually claimed he was abducted, has he? What he said was, he was in the jewellers’ shop when it suddenly turned into a spacecraft and took off.’

‘Right, boss. Very sorry, I’ll start again.’

‘All right – ACTION!’

‘So, Lord Grumpkin, perhaps you could begin your amazing story by describing for us how the jewellers shop that you were in suddenly turned into a spaceship,’ Voley said brightly.

‘Erm… well, uh, I can’t really describe how it happened, because my eyes were shut at the time, I’m afraid,’ I told him.

‘CUT!’ shouted the producer. ‘Voley, he told you ages ago that he couldn’t see anything, didn’t he? Well, for goodness sake, then – instead of asking him what he could see, ask him what he could hear!’ He paused briefly to mop his troubled brow. And then, ‘Okay, ready? ACTION!’

‘So, Lord Grumpkin,’ said the much berated reporter for the third time, ‘I wonder if you could begin your amazing story by telling us something about the sounds you heard when the jewellers shop that you were in suddenly transformed into a spacecraft?’

‘Oh, yes, certainly I can,’ I answered. ‘Well, of course, at first the noise was very loud, as you’d expect. But after we took off, this immediately stopped and then… erm, there was just a sort of quiet humming sound, really. And well, as far as sounds are concerned, I’m not exactly sure what more I can say.’

‘CUT!’ shouted the producer, now at his wits end. ‘Really, Voley, can’t you come up with better questions than that? Well, for heaven’s sake, then, hand the mike over to ME and let’s get this show on the road!’

With that, at the end of about three and a half hours the first part of my story was finally in the can. And we had just decided to complete the job the following morning, when out of nowhere came some unexpected knocks at the front door. This was the more surprising since we were all standing outside and facing it at the time, meaning that whoever was doing the banging was actually inside my house. In fright I grabbed a thick stick for a bludgeon, and approached the handle with my heart pounding fit to burst. Then, wrenching it firmly open, ‘All right, we know you’re in there, come out with your hands up!’ said I, swinging the stick up above my shoulder like a cricket bat…

Upon which words – and to the huge stupefaction of all – a small, blue-grey creature with black slanting eyes shuffled slowly out of the shadows and stood stock-still in the doorway!

‘Mmm… I should not be on your planet. You have kidnapped me!’ he growled, riveting me with a piercing stare.

‘Oh, no, no one’s kidnapped you. You must have got accidentally left behind, that’s all,’ I assured him in my brightest, cheeriest voice as I lowered the stick. ‘But don’t worry, I’m sure the others will come back for you eventually. Maybe you’d like a cup of tea while you’re waiting?’

‘Tea? Mmm…What is tea?’

Unfortunately however, the intrepid Channel Eight team had just spotted a new scoop unfolding right there in front of them, and so naturally they were not about to miss the opportunity of the century.

‘Quick, let’s have some light on its face, and I want that camera rolling NOW!’ snapped Butch the producer, beads of sweat running down his cheeks.

‘On it, boss!’ yelled Spike the editor, who also doubled as the lighting manager.

‘Ready when you are!’ called cameraman Blink.

‘Right, then, stand by… Okay, and – ACTION!’ roared Butch…

And action there was.

The second the spotlight hit him, the alien let out a scream.

‘You have attacked me, I will summon the mothership!’ he cried, instantly shielding his super-sensitive eyes.

‘Now we can’t see his face – quick, get that camera closer!’ barked Butch the producer.

‘Stop advancing, or you will be destroyed,’ declared the alien, pointing a long, thin tube at the offending equipment.

‘That’s great, keep it coming, keep it coming!’ Butch said, beckoning Blink closer still.

‘I said, stop,’ the alien repeated.

‘Okay, now give me a close-up of that pipe thing, Blink.’

There followed an almighty bang.

‘All right, there’s another camera in my bag,’ said the producer. ‘Someone want to carry Blink to the car?’

However, much to his displeasure, just then the skies grew unexplainably dark. As we turned our gaze heavenwards, an enormous spherical object appeared over our heads and shone down a bright silver beam to examine us. It quickly located the alien, lifting him off the ground, up through the air and into the ship. And then it located Butch.

‘HELP, HELP! Somebody save me!’ he shrieked to his scattering crew as he was drawn inexorably upwards. Then as soon as it had him it was gone, and so off went the rest of us to my place for a well-deserved cup of tea.

As it turned out, following his abduction Butch the producer was found five days later in the forest having successfully grown a beard, which, being a singular achievement for a toad, soon earned him a prominent place in the Guinness Book of Records. Furthermore, being abducted by aliens also gave him an exclusive story of his own, which became first a book and then a movie, and made him a personal fortune.

In due course my interview was featured on Channel Eight and got record ratings. Thanks to this I was paid more than enough money to settle my debts with the Superstore and return to normal life. But in time I realised that something was missing. I had indeed been bitten by the bug, and just couldn’t settle down till I went back to the stream to resume my quest for gold. Sadly though, this new-found passion for treasure-seeking was about to get me into a really HUMONGOUS heap of trouble for something that was totally not my fault (which of course goes without saying, since nothing ever is).

But more about that later.

After my encounter with the fiery tempered goblin the day before, it was with great excitement that I set out in the wee small hours to go prospecting for gold in the stream. Since the sun was not yet up, and I had taken the precaution of dressing in army fatigues to avoid attracting attention, I was very confident that no one had noticed or followed me along the way. That being so, all I needed to do was return to the place where I had accidentally caught the fish with the golden nugget, and start dredging. But in spite of my best efforts to retrace my steps back to the spot, it appeared I had somehow gone wrong. Now as I gazed around in the gloom of a soggy dawn and saw that nothing here was familiar, I felt an uneasy lurch in my stomach. As unlikely as it seemed, I was forced to accept that on this occasion my normally excellent navigation skills had let me down. The result was that I hadn’t a clue where I was, or how in the world to get home… but worse than this, I couldn’t shake the feeling that an unseen, hostile entity was closing in on me fast – meaning I was now in imminent danger!

Breathing in short, anxious little gasps, I took cover under some shrubs as I nervously scanned the scene for predators. However, despite my fears nothing in those surroundings gave even the smallest sign of trouble. Just ahead I observed a bunch of starlings squabbling loudly over a piece of bread that one of them had dropped in flight, while at the water’s edge a red-breasted bird was performing his morning ablutions. In the meantime somewhere up in the trees a pigeon was cooing, and from a road far away I could just make out the sound of distant traffic. In fact, everything I saw and heard seemed so reassuringly commonplace that in due course I relaxed my guard and emerged from my hiding place under the scrub. After all, I had just one day left to change my luck – to either find more gold, or go back to fishing for Hervor’s meals – and this opportunity might never come again. With that, the decision was made. Morning had broken and daylight was here…

It was high time to pursue the prize!

So it was, that energised by these inspiring thoughts I at once perked up. Swinging my knapsack over my shoulder I headed off to the pebble beach that ran by the waterside, keeping step with a jaunty little tune that I was whistling as I dredged the bed of the stream. And just as a robin flitting from tree to tree echoed that cheerful melody, so even the sun came out to scatter the clouds and warm and brighten the air. Indeed the whole of nature stirred with such a happy expectation, that as I surveyed it all, I couldn’t help but believe that abundant good fortune was coming my way. Surely nothing could go wrong, and today was my lucky day!

Well, as it turned out, the first few hours yielded only an old coin of no particular interest, which, since it still had monetary value, I put in my pocket. Then I continued dredging till my knapsack was once more heavy with silt and stones, whereupon I emptied it out and began slowly sifting through the contents.

By now the sun shone relentlessly out of a clear blue sky, and the temperature was so high that it became really hard to concentrate on my work. And truth be known, I would probably have missed it altogether if at that moment a sudden sound – the sonorous, liquid song of a robin just a couple of feet away on a branch– hadn’t brought my attention back to the job. For as I recalibrated my gaze, directing it firmly onto the pile of sand and pebbles, it jumped out at me at last:

The unmistakable glint of an itty-bitty piece of gold, about the size of a tiny ball bearing! And that wasn’t all. A meticulous search through the rest of the material turned up a further three pieces –

I was ecstatic!

Now that I knew for sure I’d be able to pay the Sissy the Mink for several more days at least, I spent a lot more time examining the same stretch of water over and over again to make sure it had given up all of its treasure. Then just as I was wondering how to find my way from there to the jewellery shop, a bird hopped down in front of me and began to speak.

‘Lord Grumpkin of Grumblemore?’ he enquired.

‘Yes, that’s me,’ said I with surprise. ‘And who, may I ask, are you?’

‘Well, really, I thought everyone knew that,’ said he with equal surprise. ‘I’m Robin the Robin, of course.’

‘Robin the Robin?’ My face pulled into a frown. ‘You have “Robin” for both of your names?’

‘Just what are you implying, Lord Grumpkin? What in the world could possibly be wrong with having “Robin” for both of my names?’  His voice was tinged with anger, and I could see this conversation was about to take a wrong turn.

‘Do forgive me, I didn’t mean to offend,’ I said hastily, ‘it’s just that most people with two names have two different names, you see… not the same name twice.’

‘Really? Well, then, by your reckoning, having the same name twice should make my name not only different but quite distinctive, wouldn’t you say?’ he said. And as Robin the Robin loomed menacingly over me I would swear that he grew at least three inches taller.

‘Oh yes, well I suppose it does… I conceded, staring weakly up at him.

A short, uncomfortable pause followed.

‘Well, come on, come on, Lord Grumpkin, I haven’t got all day!’ he exclaimed impatiently. ‘Do you want my navigation services or not?’

‘Your navigation services?’

The bird rolled his eyes in frustration. ‘Would you or wouldn’t you like me to take you to Bead & Sons the jewellers?’ he asked with a muffled invocation.

‘You’re offering to take me to the jewellers’ shop? Oh, yes, please!’ I said eagerly.

‘Fine,’ he grunted back, ‘in that case, follow me.’

And then before you could say ‘blast-off’, we were away.

Well, it has to be said, Robin the Robin could certainly move. And although it is true that he had wings, in fact he was racing ahead of me by means of nothing more than leg power, making me struggle with all my strength just to keep up. I panted doggedly along behind him for what felt like hours, wondering how on earth he could maintain such a gruelling pace. Then, as little by little familiar landmarks appeared on the horizon, to my huge relief, coming up in the distance I finally recognised the facade of Bead & Sons. But just as we arrived at the door, something alarming and very scary happened –

Before my eyes the red-breasted bird suddenly vanished!

I can tell you, fans, this was a terrible shock. However, even more of a shock was the equally sudden and unexplained appearance of Bead the Elder in the exact same spot where the robin had stood – right there in front of me, by the jewellery shop!

Bewildered? You bet I was!

‘Oh, Mr. Bead, you startled me!’ I exclaimed, clapping a hand to my pounding heart. ‘I’m really sorry, I didn’t see where you came from.’

‘Lord Grumpkin! What an unexpected pleasure, do come inside,’ he responded brightly as he held open the door for me. ‘Am I right in presuming you’ve brought me some more items to value?’

‘Actually, yes, I found these earlier to-day,’ I said. And I carefully placed the four small metallic balls up on the counter for him to examine.

‘Well, my, my, you have been busy! Let’s see what we have here,’ said he, taking them in his beak one by one to taste the quality. There was silence for a while as he pondered his verdict. But then:

‘Oh dear, Lord Grumpkin, I’m ever so sorry but it appears you’ve had rather a wasted morning,’ he concluded with a shake of his head. ‘Unfortunately there’s no real gold in any of these pieces. They’re nothing but pyrite, or fool’s gold – an iron sulfate which is quite common in Wales, as I’m sure you know. What a shame, they are pretty little things, aren’t they? But of course, they’re completely worthless.’

‘Worthless?’ The news was shattering. ‘You mean, I can’t sell them?’

Bead restrained his amusement at my evident dismay. ‘Sell them? As what – paperweights?’ he joked. ‘Oh, don’t be discouraged, sir, it’s an easy mistake to make, and I assure you, one made by countless other hopefuls before you. But you’re not like them, are you? You know what it is to find real gold, and you’ve been bitten by the bug. You’re determined to strike it rich, and you won’t give up till you succeed! And it will happen, Lord Grumpkin, I’m sure it will… but sad to say, just not today.’

He stared at me pityingly for a moment, then a new thought struck him. ‘Tell you what, I’ve got an idea,’ he told me. ‘How about I use your pieces to make some costume jewellery? In my experience, pyrite looks quite good in a brooch or bracelet. What do you think?’

‘Oh, yes, that’s a great idea!’ I cried, so glad to have finally found a purpose for them.  ‘Does that mean you’re going to buy them from me after all?’

‘Buy them? Oh, no, sir, I don’t think you understand. It costs a considerable amount of time and money to make costume jewellery, so if you want to have these pieces turned into wearables, then I’m afraid it’s you who will have to pay me, not the other way around. And of course, we are speaking of the full amount, not merely a deposit, payable in advance and in cash. After that, once the items are sold we can split the profits between us – say, fifty-fifty, if that’s agreeable?’

By this time my brain was really foggy with all this confusing information. What was that he was telling me? …that we’d go fifty-fifty on the production costs, then I’d get the whole profit in cash when the jewellery was sold? I was fairly sure it was something along those lines, but then again, I was feeling unusually drowsy and it was becoming progressively harder to focus…

‘Wake up, wake up, Lord Grumpkin! Are you all right? Can you hear me?’

Then with a quick shake of his body, the magpie instantly transformed back into the small, green, hairy extra-terrestrial that he really was, and his face broke into a satisfied smile. ‘It’s fine, Shifty, he’s dead to the world, we can start just as soon as you’re ready,’ he told his gangling, purple-skinned colleague, whose fourteen fingers were drumming out an impatient rhythm on the counter. ‘Don’t worry, when he wakes up he won’t remember a thing, I promise,’ he added confidently.

‘Well, well, Sham… all done and dusted in only six and a half minutes,’ she replied with an icy wit. ‘But then again, I suppose for you that’s quite a record, isn’t it!’ And she gave an audible grunt of exasperation.

‘Oh, absolutely, it’s a personal best! After all, you know what they say, don’t you? Practice makes perfect,’ he responded happily, oblivious to her ill-concealed insult.

‘Fine, well, we’re way behind schedule, so let’s just cut the chit-chat and get the heck out of here, okay? Right, do we need to run through any last checks before liftoff?’

‘Uh-uh, no. Everything’s fine, we’re good to go, Shifty,’ came the response.

‘Well, great, then it looks like we’re finally on our way.  Okay, are we ready?’ Sham nodded, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘All right, let’s go… Three, two, one, and – NOW!’

And next instant, everything went black.

Well, fans, after promising to keep Hervor the Hamster supplied with fish so she would continue doing my deliveries, it was clear that I had no choice but to return to the waters where I had earlier caught the trout. And as to how to maximise my haul, it seemed to me that I couldn’t possibly choose a better fishing net than the oversized knapsack which had served me so well that same morning. So it was, that armed with this bag – now permanently fixed to a pole – off I went to begin the first of many long days of fishing along the banks of the bubbling stream. But as I trudged somewhat downheartedly towards that destination, I little knew that a prize far greater than fish lay veiled in its sandy bed…

As it happened I managed to catch four minnows in record time, and so, wearied by my recent adventures, I decided to call it a day. Upon taking these over to Hervor’s house, however, I was greeted with her usual Viking brusqueness.

‘You bring my fish? Very good, you put them here,’ she stated matter-of-factly, indicating the kitchen table. Then as I removed the four little offerings from my bag and placed them before her as requested – ‘What, more baby fish?’ came the howling complaint. ‘How many times I tell you, Grumpkin, I need caloreesh, many, many caloreesh! Thish ish not enough food for me. Tomorrow you get double quantity, or I quit thish job!’

‘No, no – no need for that, Hervor! From now on you’ll have more than double the quantity for both of your daily meals, I promise,’ I hastened to reassure her.

‘Well, you better keep your promish thish time,’ she said. ‘And come at four tomorrow, not five. I shtart work one hour early, sho will need plenty caloreesh for thish long day.’

‘Understood, Hervor, I won’t let you down,’ I told her with what I hoped was a self-assured, beaming smile. ‘I’ll be back here at the dot of four with an extra large fish for your breakfast.’

‘Very good, shee you then. Now, pleash – you go.’

With this the hamster ushered me out of the door and closed it firmly behind me. And as I headed home for a well earned rest, wondering how in the world I was going to fulfil such seemingly impossible demands, I tried my best not to succumb to feelings of panic. However, as I would soon find out, the solution to all my problems was closer than I could imagine, and about to come from a most unlikely source…

Thus it was that dawn of the next day found me plodding doggedly on beside the stream with my improvised trawl net, all the while dragging it along the bottom in hopes of landing a good catch. And this time I wasn’t disappointed, for within half an hour a really huge bream had swum inside! After struggling to hoist it out of the water, it then took me all my strength to get it safely to the hamster’s house. But for once even Hervor was impressed with this booty, and so, with a few hours to spare before my next fishing expedition, home I went for a much needed meal and a nap… and that’s when everything changed.

Before entering GRUMBLEMORE I was in the process of shaking some gravel and weeds out of my knapsack, when, as the debris fell onto the floor of the shed, I noticed something unusual glinting in the light. Curious, I bent down to retrieve it, only to find a small yellowish ball lying in my hand. What could this be? I examined it from all sides but couldn’t make head or tail of it, so I put away it in my pocket and continued cleaning out the bag. However, just as I was about to open my front door, my eye was caught by two more little objects glinting on the ground, each about the size of a ball bearing. Baffled by the strange finds, I put those in my pocket, too, and then went inside. However, it wasn’t till I found myself peering through a magnifying glass at these teensy balls that the mind-blowing question finally hit me –

Could I actually be staring at pieces of real gold?

At this prospect, all thoughts of eating or sleeping flew right out of my mind! And so it was that without further ado, I immediately threw on my best jacket and hurried off to Bead & Sons, the local jewellers, for an expert appraisal of my items.

Arriving at the shop just as it was opening up, I was let in by Bead the Elder, a keen-eyed magpie of mature years and an acerbic wit. Then as I laid the three balls on the counter and the bird took out his eyeglass to examine them, I held my breath in suspense. Were they the genuine article, or had I only brought him fool’s gold? As he lifted each one in his beak and rolled it around on his tongue, I watched him nervously, quite unable to guess what his judgment would be. And then it came:

‘Hmm, not bad for river gold… Small pieces, to be sure, but their taste indicates a high level of purity,’ he told me. And then he added, ‘If you’re looking to sell, I’ll give you thirty pounds for the lot.’

‘Thirty pounds…?’ I was staggered at the amount.

‘That’s a good price, Lord Grumpkin, you’ll get nothing higher round here.’ He stared impatiently at me as I fumbled for my words. ‘Well, come on, then! Do we have a deal or not?’

‘Yes, yes! Thirty pounds will be absolutely fine,’ I murmured at length, overawed by the whole experience.

‘Good,’ said he, beginning to count pound coins into a large cloth bag. ‘But then of course, I’d pay a whole lot more than thirty pounds to know where you found them all,’ he went on, fixing me with a quizzical stare. ‘Information like that could be worth as much as fifty pounds to a high-end jewellery business like mine.’

‘Ah, no, sorry, I’m afraid that’s confidential,’ I replied hastily, alarmed at the very suggestion.

‘As you wish, Lord Grumpkin, but if you change your mind you know where we are,’ he said blandly. Then after pulling tight the drawstrings he passed the bag to me. ‘Well, have a good day, sir, and see you again soon.’

An indefinable churlishness in Bead’s manner made me more than a little uneasy. But the second I picked up the money bag those negative feelings melted away. I was filled with jubilation, and floated out of the shop on a cloud of euphoria. So this was what a bonanza felt like! I could hardly wait to start my new career prospecting for gold, which left me with just one thing yet to find – some other poor sucker to take my place and supply the hamster with fish!

And as it turned out, it took me no time at all to hire a suitable conscript. Back by the banks of the stream I soon made the acquaintance of Scissors the Mink, who, for the price of ten pounds per day, readily agreed to do the fishing so long as I was happy to deliver her catch to Hervor. Scissors – or, ‘Sissy’ as she preferred to be called – apparently knew a goblin who accepted human currency in return for casting magic spells, which could guarantee her an abundant supply of fish and keep her safe from harm. That, of course, was of no interest to me. All I wanted was someone else to do my work so that I could be free to get rich.

Well, the first two days passed in a flash, but despite my best efforts to dredge the stream, it seemed that there was no more treasure anywhere to be found. Towards the end of the third day my bag was still coming up filled with nothing but weeds, silt, and gravel, and I was starting to despair. Would I really have to go back to catching Hervor’s fish? …or even worse, doing my own Superstore deliveries? The very thought of it sent my mood spiralling downwards, and I was soon overwhelmed with gloom.

But at the last moment of the last day, just as I was just pulling up the knapsack for the very last time, I realised I had accidentally caught a fish. And since I didn’t need any more fish for the hamster, I was about to throw it back when it suddenly gave what sounded like a rasping cough, then spat a large yellow object into the palm of my hand… I couldn’t believe it – it was a sizeable chunk of gold!

At this I let out a cry of joy, and grabbing my bag, made off to Bead & Sons as fast as my legs would carry me. So elated was I upon discovering this new trophy that I barely noticed the miles rushing under my feet. Then when at length I arrived at the shop, I was greeted at the door by Bead the Elder, who to my surprise was standing there as if he’d expected me all along.

‘Well, well, Lord Grumpkin, back again, I see,’ he remarked. ‘And what do you have for me today?’

‘Ah yes, Mr. Bead, thank you for enquiring. I thought you might be interested in this,’ said I, hurrying to place my lump of gold up on the counter.

‘Right you are, then, let’s take a look.’ So saying he bent down to examine it, repeating the same investigations as before. Then after that he pronounced his verdict.

‘Unfortunately this piece is poor quality, Lord Grumpkin,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘It’s only about twenty percent gold, the rest is a mixture of other common metals with little or no intrinsic value. But if you’re selling, then being as it’s you, as a goodwill gesture I suppose I could make you a modest offer to take it off your hands, if that’s any good?’

‘You could? How much?’ I asked.

‘Ten pounds.’

‘Only ten pounds?’

‘Ten pounds, and not a penny more,’ he said firmly.

At that, my face fell. Realising that this would buy me just one more day of the mink’s fishing services, I couldn’t be more disappointed. The magpie, however, continued to press his case.

‘It isn’t much money, it’s true, but then again, surely anything is better than nothing? Or you could just keep it as a novelty item, if you like. It’s entirely up to you, Lord Grumpkin. Don’t feel under any pressure at all, I’m simply here to help.’

I swallowed hard. He was right, of course, ten pounds was definitely better than nothing. It would give me another whole day to search for hidden treasure, which in the end might be all I needed to change my fortunes and launch my new career as a gold prospector. So what should I do?

Well, it was a no-brainer, wasn’t it! I took the ten pounds, then went straight off to hire the mink.

However as things worked out, I didn’t actually make it back to the stream that evening. Instead, on the way I met a nasty old goblin with piercing eyes and a hooked nose, who claimed to own that stretch of water and everything in it. He robbed me of my money and threatened to beat me up if I stole any more of his gold. And shocked as I was at the time, I’m ashamed to say that I let him leave with my ten pounds without even trying to stop him.

But later that night I had second thoughts.

Who was this loser, anyway? Just some stunted little low-life puffing himself up to make believe he was a big shot! And what was that he told me? That he owned the stream and everything in it? Well, we’d soon see about that! Clearly this peanut-sized pipsqueak didn’t know who he was dealing with, and needed a jolly good lesson in manners!

After all, I was none other than Lord Grumpkin of Grumblemore – the Lion-Hearted Super-Rat of international fame – and like it or not, I had made up my mind. At dawn the next day I was going to be back by the stream dredging for gold, and I fully expected to work there in peace. So if he planned to tangle with me, then it was high time he understood that I wouldn’t be answerable for the consequences…

And indeed, if I had anything to do with it, things would turn out VERY much the worse for him!