You could point at anything and he could chat about it.
Trees.
Beef.
Your dad’s hairy nose.
He had a fact about everything too.
‘Did you know that you can’t lick your own elbow?’ he’d shout, from his royal motorbike-and-sidecar, as he was driven through Billingsgate Fish Market. ‘I command you to try it!’
And all the fishmongers would drop their fish and try to lick their elbows, all at once.
You try it.
HA! You see? King Les is right! You can’t lick your own elbow!
Did you know that when a penguin proposes, he gives his mate a pebble?
It’s TRUE! King Les told that to the Queen of Denmark and her ears went red – that’s how amazed she was!
Did you know that humans get taller in space because there’s no gravity pushing them down?
Did you know your eyeball weighs about the same as thirty paper clips?!
Did you know? No!
King Les loved the phrase ‘Did You Know?’ so much that he had it translated into Latin and put on his coat of arms.
NONNE SCITIS it says.
Which actually sounds more like something you’d catch.
But King Les’s greatest dream was to be asked on Well, Whaddya Know? The TV quiz show with all the answers! (To be fair, it would be a pretty rubbish TV show if it was the quiz show without all the answers. It’d just be half an hour of questions and then everyone would go home again.)
The problem was, King Les knew they wouldn’t let him on. First, because he was the King and it wouldn’t be fair. And second because if he didn’t know the answer to one of the questions he still had the power to lock all the people who made the show in the Tower.
So King Les spent most of his time just learning interesting facts and then choosing his outfits. Today he was wearing a one-piece lime-green catsuit with a bright red cape, blue sunglasses and large white basketball boots. He looked like he’d got dressed in the dark. In a charity shop. In a hurry.
The sad thing was King Les just wanted to be normal sometimes. He didn’t feel at all comfortable being King. So how did he end up in that position? It’s not like he went down the job centre or answered an advert in the post-office window. It’s not like he started off as a Junior King or an Assistant King and then worked his way up to be Boss King.
No!
He was just taken aside one day by his mum, who said, ‘Look, I’m fed up being Queen. I want to watch telly all day.’ And then she tagged him and said, ‘You’re it!’ and ran away. She’s still hiding in an upstairs bedroom to this day, just in case he tags her back.
That’s the way Kings and Queens had been decided for generations. So many Royals got a bit fed up with the attention or felt a little embarrassed about all the unearned money that they tagged someone else and ran off to hide. There was a rumour that King Victor himself was still holed up in the attic somewhere, hiding in a grandmother clock.
So now Les had this whole blooming country to oversee. Have you ever had to oversee a whole country? Probably not. But it’s hard work and, to add to the problem, no one much liked any of Les’s ideas.
He wanted to change the flag to something a bit more imaginative, like a huge purple triangle with a bright gold sausage in the middle.
But everyone said no.
He wanted to have giant oil paintings all over the palace, of cool stuff like a horse riding a bicycle over a rainbow with a badger on its back.
But everyone said no.
King Les was always having his ideas knocked back. Mind you, King Les was always full of dreadful ideas. That’s why some of the staff secretly called him ‘King Les-said-about- that-guy-the-better!’.
‘He sounds like a nightmare!’ said Alice, being very honest. ‘No wonder Scarmarsh wants to zap him.’
Holly thought about it.
‘Funny he’s not done it before now, though,’ she said, warming to Alice a little more. ‘Maybe he wants more people to witness it? Like he did with your Prime Minister on live TV?’
Of course, it hadn’t just been Ernst Ding-Batt who’d been zapped that night. It was his otherhalf too, remember. Poor Ernabell Ding-Batt had been blanked at the same time, and now thought her best friend was a tea cosy named Captain Dullard.
‘Holly, you said you thought Scarmarsh was planning something tomorrow. What exactly is the King doing?’ asked Hamish, searching for clues.
‘He’s getting his new crown,’ said Holly, leaning her head against the window. ‘He’s so excited that he’s been telling anyone who’ll listen. He sent off for it ages ago, but it’s taken forever to arrive. Les has been wearing a temporary one lately, but he really wants his big gold and silver one.’
‘Oh,’ said Hamish, and then he had a thought. ‘Will it be on TV?’
‘Yes,’ said Holly. ‘It’s on straight after Life’s a Bad Dream with Vermin Sheen.
‘And where’s it happening?’ asked Alice, now sitting up, as she realised that all this might be very important information indeed.
‘The Tower,’ said Holly, as the sign for came into view. ‘It’s all happening at the Tower of London.’
‘Then that’s when Scarmarsh will strike,’ said Hamish, looking grave. ‘And only the PDF can stop him!’
PDF Ahoy!
Hamish trudged back to 13 Lovelock Close with a heavy heart.
He knew he was in trouble.
Huge trouble.
Humungous trouble.
Trouble might as well be his middle name.
He’d phoned his mum as soon as he’d got back to our world, of course. But she hadn’t been in at the time because she does heavy metal yoga on Tuesdays at the leisure centre in Frinkley. So he’d left a message and felt sick all the way back to town.
‘Oh my gosh,’ said Holly, stunned, as she looked around Starkley, which appeared to be shut. ‘This place is so boring!’
Hamish was a little offended.
‘It’s not, actually,’ he said.
But next to him was a poster for this week’s Starkley Post and the headline was MOVE ON, NOTHING TO SEE HERE, which sort of contradicted him.
Alan had gone back to Alice’s house with her. ‘Safety in numbers!’ he said every five seconds, and Alice wanted to keep him where she could see him. Alan kept asking if the spare bed had rails round the side because he prefers a bed with rails round the side: what if he fell out?
‘Don’t fall out then,’ said Alice, churlishly. ‘Or just keep your helmet on.’
‘Oh, I fully intend to wear a sleep helmet,’ said Alan, nodding. Alice just rolled her eyes.
Holly had agreed to wait outside Hamish’s house at first, just until he could explain everything to his mum.
He had absolutely no idea how he was going to do that. Or how much to tell her because, if she was worried about Hamish before, when he told her about travelling to a different dimension, she was going to be livid.
‘Good luck,’ said Holly, and after one deep breath Hamish pushed open the door. ‘I’ll just stay out here, in this thrilling town.’
Hamish could hear the TV as he stepped inside.
But wait, what else was that he could hear?
Laughter?
He walked into the living room to find his mum in fits of giggles, slapping the table and hooting.
He’d never heard his mum hoot before.
‘Haaaaamish!’ she said, flinging her arms round him and beaming. ‘Welcome home, chicken!’
Over her shoulder, he saw that sitting in the chair right behind her with a cup of coffee and a chocolate Mustn’tgrumble . . . was Alex.
She winked at him.
‘Alex explained everything!’ said his mum, giving him a thumbs up. ‘What an adventure! What fun! Did you know Alex works for Belasko, Dad’s old company?’
Hamish scrunched up his nose. This did not seem like a normal reaction. Why wasn’t he in trouble? Even he thought he should be in trouble.
On the TV, a blank-eyed newsreader stared straight ahead, not saying anything. They got another one, thought Hamish.
‘Tell me about London!’ said Mum. ‘Did you go to the zoo? How was the Prime Minister? Did you eat a kebab? I hear you have to go back! Do you want me to make you a sandwich?’
Hamish shot Alex a look.
What was going on?
Hamish’s mum was fast asleep on the sofa three minutes later.
‘It’s a new type of coffee,’ said Alex, pointing at the packet on the table. ‘We call it BELASKOFFEE. It’s very . . . relaxing. Packed with chamomile. We originally developed it for agents who we knew were going to face monsters. It lets them see the funny side. Cope with anything. I thought maybe your mum could do with a cup. I know how she worries. That’s why your dad could never tell her what his secret real job was.’
‘Well, it seems to work,’ said Hamish, looking at his mum, who was now snoring and drooling. ‘Mum seems to have found it very relaxing indeed.’
‘I told her you’d need to make another trip,’ said Alex. ‘How did you know where I was?’ he asked, and Alex smiled.
‘I have my ways of watching you,’ she said. ‘Now go – it’s time you told the rest of your friends that we need their help.’
‘Elliot!’ whispered Hamish, as loudly as you can before it becomes not a whisper any more. ‘Wake Up!’
He’d already fetched Alice.
They’d been to wake Buster.
And Clover. And Venk.
They’d accidentally woken Grenville too, because he lived next door to Venk and had insisted on coming.
‘I’m an honorary member of the PDF!’ he kept saying. ‘And I’m the one who knows the most wrestling moves!’
Now they were all standing outside Elliot’s house at almost midnight, throwing small pebbles at his window.
‘What in the name of Thor?’ said Elliot, opening his window. He looked down and saw:
Hamish, with a look of grim determination on his face.
Clover, already holding her emergency fake moustaches.
Venk, combing his hair, ready for action.
Buster, holding a golden spanner.
Grenville, inspecting a remarkable bogey.
And Alice, tapping her watch and beckoning him down, impatiently.
‘I have to say, I’ve been hoping for quite some time that we’d get the PDF back together,’ said Elliot, leading everyone down the path in his back garden. ‘I thought it had all ended.’
‘Every end is just another beginning!’ said Alice.
‘I thought that too, so I did a little preparation.’
Elliot was very good at preparation. Every member of the PDF brought something different to the team. Buster was a technical genius, Clover was a master of disguise, Venk . . . I’ll get back to you on that . . . and Elliot was in charge of strategies and operations. And, even though the Pauses had stopped, Elliot had kept himself busy – just in case of an emergency.
He switched on the light in the long shed at the bottom of his garden and Hamish’s jaw dropped.
In front of him on a table was a gigantic map of the country.
There were little statuettes of the gang that could be moved around on top of it using a long pointer.
There were beautiful paintings of all the awful types of Terribles they’d encountered.
There was a computer and a printer and all manner of strange devices.
A huge sign on the wall read WAR ROOM.
‘I’ve had quite a lot of time on my hands,’ said Elliot, shyly.
‘Ahem,’ came a small voice from behind them.
Hamish had asked Holly to keep her distance for the time being.
Everybody now turned to see her standing in the doorway, with a timid Alan cowering behind her.
‘Who’s that?’ asked Clover.
‘Hey . . . that girl looks a lot like you, Hamish . . .’ said Elliot, pushing his glasses up his nose.
Everyone looked at Hamish, and blinked.
He realised he had rather a lot of explaining to do.
‘This is the most incredible thing I have ever heard!’ said Grenville, minutes later. ‘And I once heard a dog say “sausages”!’
‘So does that mean I’ve got an otherhalf?’ said Venk, looking puzzled, as Elliot printed out some pictures behind him. ‘Because I’m pretty sure the world couldn’t cope with that level of cool!’
‘And you say it’s all because of someone called “Scarmarsh”?’ asked Clover, making her important face, and twiddling her fake moustache, seriously. ‘How exciting!’
‘Well, we mustn’t get too excited,’ said Alan, shifting his helmet up. ‘Because that’s how accidents happen.’
‘He really is your opposite,’ said Buster, nudging Alice.
‘If we’re right about all this, then we have to stop Scarmarsh before he zaps the King,’ said Hamish, taking charge. ‘If he zaps the King, then our Queen’s had it.’
‘I hate these evil bad guys and their awful plans!’ said Clover, and Elliot stamped his foot in agreement. ‘But what is his plan?’
It was a great question.
Hamish gave the signal to Holly. She whipped out a photo of King Les smiling in front of Buckingham Palace and the article from Evil Icon magazine. Then she unrolled a long piece of paper she’d prepared on the coach.
On it was written everything they thought they knew, and the words:
THE MEGAPOCALYPSE!
A plan in four stages by Axel Scarmarsh
Everyone shuddered as they read it.
‘Okay,’ said Holly. ‘When we do drama at school, they say you have to get into character, right?’
Hamish shrugged. He hated drama. He didn’t see the point in pretending to be trees or whatever. Whenever they asked him do it, he knew no one actually thought he was a tree. If they actually thought he was a tree, they must be mad. He really could not see how pretending to be a tree would help him in future life.
‘So,’ said Holly. ‘To help you understand his plan, I am now going to “get into character” and pretend to be Scarmarsh.’
Everyone nodded, uncertainly. Buster got his torch out and shone it on her, like a spotlight. Holly closed her eyes for a moment and then suddenly opened them again and shouted:
‘Aaaargh!’ screamed Alan. ‘It was Holly all along!’
‘She’s pretending!’ said Alice, exasperated.
continued Holly. ‘I call it . . . the
Alan screamed again as Holly pointed at the unfurled paper.
MISSION:
To spread fear across every dimension and become the first Evil Icon rule TWO WORLDS AT ONCE!
STAGE ONE:
BLANK ALL THE PEOPLE WHO ARE MOST RESPECTED AND POWERFUL TO STOP THEM INTERFERING!
STAGE TWO:
MAKE SURE MY POWER IS WITNESSED BY AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE!
STAGE THREE:
WHEN THEY SEE MY POWER, THEY WILL GIVE IN TO ME!
STAGE FOUR:
RULE EVERYTHING, GET NEW ROBES, BUY A BIGGER TELLY, ETC.
‘Four stages?’ said Elliot. ‘Is that all? Are you sure there’s not a secret fifth stage?’
yelled Holly, with bulging eyes.
‘I’m just saying,’ said Elliot, with his hands up. ‘There’s usually a secret fifth stage. It’s something to bear in mind!’
Holly nearly stopped pretending to be Scarmarsh, she was so annoyed, but managed to hold it together.
‘The Queen is always tucked away inside the palace,’ she spat, sinisterly, ‘but the King will soon be on live TV in front of who will be terrified that I can get to anyone! That will be when I – Scarmarsh! – strike at the heart of
Holly stopped, dramatically. Everyone applauded.
‘And after that,’ said, Hamish, pale-faced, ‘the world will bow down before him.’
‘Well, we can’t have that,’ said Alice, and Alan agreed.
‘No, you shouldn’t bow,’ he said, shaking his
head. ‘You should always bend from the knees.’
Elliot strode around, deeply concerned, with his arms crossed and one finger on his chin, thinking.
‘If we go back to Otherearth,’ said Clover, ‘we’ll need protection. Because what’s to stop him from zapping us?’
It was a good point.
‘He’ll be looking out for us!’ she continued. ‘I mean – how did he even know you were in Otherearth?’
Hamish had wondered how those MISSING KIDS posters had got there too. Scarmarsh knew they were there. Had someone spotted them? Was that why he always felt like he was being watched?
Elliot looked like he’d had an idea.
‘Here’s what I don’t understand,’ he said, spinning round to face them. ‘The King must have been on TV before, right? Scarmarsh must have had the chance to zap him in front of the world before now. So why has he waited?’
Hamish shrugged and shook his head. They’d all wondered why Scarmarsh was taking so long too, if that was his plan. I mean, King Les was always out and about. He loved being seen in public. You literally couldn’t stop him trying to take selfies with tourists.
And not for them, for him!
‘What if up until now there’s been something protecting the King from the zap?’ said Elliot. ‘Something stopping Scarmarsh, that he knows won’t stop him tomorrow?’
Everybody murmured, uncertainly.
‘Look at these pictures,’ said Elliot, spreading the photos he’d printed out across the table.
There was the Prime Minister, naked except for his pants.
There was the Sergeant Major, holding a cat called Mr Poopy.
There was Vapidia Sheen, unable to work out how to hold a pen.
And now there was Holly’s picture of the King, standing in front of Buckingham Palace, his cheap tinfoil crown glinting in the sun.
‘What one thing makes the King different from the others?’ asked Elliot.
‘Millions of pounds?’ tried Venk.
‘The palaces?’ suggested Buster.
‘His bottom?’ said Clover.
Elliot paused. ‘What?’
Hamish and the Neverpeople Page 8
