The World's Loudest Armpit Fart
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Contents
The Wibbly Wobbly Wonder
The Penleydale Clarion
Hard Cheese
The Cheatboy
The Jelly Fairy
Sally Versus Maradona
The Wibbly Wobbly Wonder
Sally Versus Danny
Danny Baker – Record Breaker
The Lemon-Puff Peril
Summer’s End Saturday
Wet Pants
Crossing The Line
Prune
A Bad Attack of Wind
The Lemon-puff Peril
Danny Baker – Record Breaker
Dirty Do-ings in Burly Bottoms!
By Reginald Heap, Chief News Reporter
An illegal Yorkshire cheese caused uproar last weekend at the finish of the Penleydale Junior Uphill Cheese-rolling Race.
For the 143rd year running, competitors pushed their regulation circular thirty centimetre Waxy Penleydale Cheeses along the traditional ten-kilometre course. The route took them up Boggart’s Nose, across Miggin’s Mop and over Hangman’s Hump, before finally dropping down into Burly Bottoms.
With the finishing line in sight, the temperature hit a Penleydale record of 33.7°C. The lead cheese, being rolled by new-boy Maradona ‘The Cheeseboy’ Potts, disintegrated and melted, and roller after roller was sent tumbling on the greasy liquid cheese.
Ollie ‘The Drainpipe’ Snodgrass, age 11, of Hogton, kept his head – and his feet – and rolled his cheese over the pile of fallen competitors to win. Local boy Danny ‘Record Breaker’ Baker, who won last year’s race in record time, broke a small bone in his foot, but hobbled on to finish in seventh place.
Judge Harry Clegg explained, ‘The Waxy Penleydale is highly resistant to extreme temperatures, and would never melt like Maradona’s cheese did. Closer inspection of the offending fromage confirmed that it was an illegal Grimsdyke Crumbly, disguised to look like a Waxy Penleydale. The Grimsdyke is lighter than the Penleydale, so it’s easier to push uphill.’
Maradona Potts, now renamed ‘The Cheatboy’, was disqualified, and banned from competing in the race For Ever (+ ten years).
Result:
1st: Ollie ‘The Drainpipe’ Snodgrass
2nd: Trixibelle ‘Bossyboots’ Wolstenholme
3rd: Kristian ‘The Bookworm’ Renshaw
4th: Jack ‘The Teabag’ Spratt
5th: Samantha ‘Tufty’ Tompkins
6th: Matthew ‘The Calculator’ Mason
7th: Danny ‘Record Breaker’ Baker
8th: Ryan ‘The Zombie’ Wilkins
9th: Steve ‘Snotbucket’ Snitterton
10th: Carly ‘Jam Butty’ Benson
Retired hurt: Tommy ‘Spiffy’ Spofforth, Lucy ‘Nose-picker’ Knowles, Billy ‘The Big Toe’ Bowling
Disqualified: Maradona ‘The Cheatboy’ Potts
To the Keeper of the Records
The Great Big Book of World Records
London
Dear Mr Bibby
I’ve got a plaster cast up to my knee because I hurt my foot when I slipped on a cheese. I’m going to miss the start of the new football season, and my doctor said I’ll be out for four weeks. My Grandad Nobby says I’m lucky it’s only four weeks. When he slipped on the Rotting Chowhabunga seed-pod, he was out for four decades!
The doctor counted all the times I’ve needed treatment because of my record attempts, including:
My unwashed 207-spot bottom
My dangerously stinky feet
My walking-backwards-Wonderfluff-nappy-box-on-the-head incident
My boffin-baffling gobbledegook
My hospital-food-fuelled mighty trump
And my whistling, budgie-costumed, up-a-tree Spanish cramp.
When the doctor added these to all the other times I’ve been with coughs, injections, infections and stuff, I’ve had to see a doctor seventy-nine times. She said that must be a record. I think she was probably joking with me, but is it a record?
Best wishes
Danny Baker
PS I only need to get through one more match without anyone scoring against me, to break the record for Most Consecutive Games without Conceding a Goal. Keep your fingers crossed!
Dear Danny
Yes, I’m afraid the doctor was joking with you. The record for Highest Number of Separate Incidents Requiring Medical Treatment belongs to Elmer Boggs of Picatinny, New Jersey, USA.
During his lifetime, Elmer broke every bone in his body at least once, including the small bones in both ears. He pulled every muscle, and tore every tendon. Elmer was stung by jellyfish, bees, wasps and a scorpion, and was bitten by 185 different kinds of animal, including a cow, a squirrel, a bushbaby, a shark, a tortoise and a ladybird. He also had 2,469 separate diseases and made a total of 23,423 visits to the doctor.
Unwisely for someone who had such an accident-prone life, in 1984 Elmer volunteered to put his head in a lion’s mouth to raise money for charity. This, of course, was a big mistake, and when the lion sneezed . . .
Recordologists cannot agree if his death should be included in the total, as he was seen by a doctor to pronounce him dead. I think it should, so I have.
Good luck with your first game back, Danny. I hope you manage to keep a clean sheet and break another record. I’ll be keeping my fingers, toes, ears, legs and eyes crossed!
Best wished
Eric Bibby
Keeper of the Records
Danny and his best friend, Matthew Mason, arrived at Walchester United for the first home game of the new season. The ground was full to bursting. The crowd had been waiting all summer for this, and excitement fizzed around the stands. Danny manoeuvred his plaster cast with some difficulty along the row of seats and sat down next to Matthew. The boys joined in the singing and chanting:
‘Walchester United are the best team in the world!
After Barcelona, Real Madrid, AC Milan, Juventus, Man United and Chelsea!
Oh, and Bayern Munich, Ajax and all the teams in Brazil!
And Accrington Stanley, who beat us in the Cup two years ago!
Apart from that we’re the best team in the world!’
The shrill blare of trumpets echoed through the stadium and the singing turned into a mighty roar. Danny and Matthew looked towards the tunnel, just below where they sat, and saw two men scurry on to the pitch carrying a large circular sign emblazoned with the words, ‘Wibberley Wobberley – the Jellies from Mobberley’.
Suddenly a huge red jelly burst through the sign and wibbled and wobbled out to the centre circle, kicking a football and waving to the crowd.
‘Let’s give a big Walchester United welcome to our new sponsors, Wibberley Wobberley Jellies,’ announced a voice over the loud speaker. ‘And say “Hello” to our new mascot, Wibbles the Dribbling Jelly!’
Wibbles wore a red peaked cap, and the see-through red plastic jelly costume ballooned out from around his neck like a horrible bell-shaped dress. His red hands stuck out from the side and his skinny red legs from the bottom.
‘I don’t believe it,’ groaned Danny.
‘It’s worse than Wally the Wall!’ said Matthew.
‘It’s even worse than Gogo La Gamba, Real Marisco’s pink prawn mascot. It doesn’t even look like a jelly and you can see the man inside.’
Matthew peered closer. ‘Isn’t that Jack Dawkins’s big brother? I thought he was training to be an astronaut.’
‘Looks like he became a jelly instead!’
Just then another sound cut through the cheers of the crowd.
‘Daaaaaaaannnnnnnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!’
The boys stared at each other in disbelief.
‘It’s not . . .’
‘I
t can’t be . . .’
‘Hiiiiiiiiyyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!’
‘It is!’
Five rows behind them, wearing a red Walchester United shirt, her bright-red hair twisted into two long pigtails and tied on the ends with ruby-red ribbons, was Sally Butterworth.
Danny cringed as he remembered his and Matthew’s first meeting with Sally, in Spain just a few months before. Not only had she scored a goal against him in a game of beach-football, she had tricked him into winning his most embarrassing record of all: 18 minutes and 47 seconds of Budgie-costumed Perched-in-a-tree Kissing! Even worse, she had made him fall out with Matthew.
Sally waved furiously, then rolled her tongue and squinted. She edged along the row of seats and skipped down the stand towards them. Danny realized with horror that there was an empty seat beside him.
‘Hiya!’ beamed Sally. ‘Remember me?’
‘No, who are you?’ replied Matthew.
Sally laughed, but her smile instantly turned to a look of concern as she noticed Danny’s leg. ‘What have you done?’ she asked, sitting down in the vacant seat.
‘Slipped on a cheese,’ explained Danny.
‘Is it broken?’
‘What, my foot or the cheese?’
Sally punched Danny playfully, but hard, on the arm.
‘Ow!’ he complained. ‘What’re you doing here, Sally?’
‘I’m with Wibberley Wobberley,’ she said. ‘My dad’s the Regional Manager, so you’ll be seeing a lot more of me from now on.’
‘Your dad’s a jelly salesman?’ asked Matthew.
‘Yeah! How cool is that?’ Sally smiled at Danny and rested her hand on his. ‘Do you like jelly, Danny?’
‘Yeah . . .’
‘I can get you as much jelly as you can eat.’
Suddenly Danny had an idea. He pulled his hand away and folded his arms.
‘Could you get me enough jelly to break a record?’ he asked.
‘Course I can. Dad’s got thousands of boxes full of “experimental” jelly-mixes that nobody wants.’
‘Experimental jelly-mixes?’
Sally counted the different flavours on her fingers. ‘Caviar and Custard.’
‘Gross!’
‘Turnip and Trifle.’
‘Mega-gross!’
‘Fig and Fish Finger.’
‘Giga-gross!’ said Matthew.
Sally nodded. ‘They made people throw up, and it was hard to get the mix right: they either wibbled too much or they didn’t wobble at all. Anyway, you can have them all if you want.’
‘Ace!’ said Danny.
Matthew said nothing.
‘I broke the County Junior Jelly-juggling record, with three balls of Pepperoni Pizza and Pomegranate jelly,’ boasted Sally. ‘Two minutes, fifteen point four seconds.’
Danny was impressed. ‘You can juggle jellies?’ ‘Duh! If I couldn’t juggle jellies, I wouldn’t have broken the County Jelly-juggling record, would I?’
Matthew nudged Danny on the arm. ‘Here come the teams.’
The trumpets blared once more and the Walchester United and Downmouth Albion players ran out on to the pitch in two long lines. The roar of the crowd wrapped around Danny, Matthew and Sally and pulled them to their feet to cheer.
‘By the way,’ shouted Sally as the players’ names were announced. ‘Have you seen who your school team is playing this season?’
‘No,’ replied Danny. ‘Why?’
Sally didn’t answer. She flashed Danny a huge smile, then turned back to watch the game.
‘COME ON THE WIBBERLEY WOBBERLIES!’ she screamed.
Danny was looking forward to getting back to school. He hobbled on his crutches alongside Matthew as they passed through the school gates, the plaster cast on his leg now black and blue and green and red and purple and orange and pink with signatures. The name in pink was Sally Butterworth.
‘I’ve got a record-breaking itchy leg underneath all this plaster,’ he said. ‘I can’t wait for them to cut the cast off tomorrow.’
‘I’ll count the signatures at home-time and you can write to Mr Bibby at the Great Big Book of World Records to ask if it’s a record.’
Danny shook his head. ‘There’s nowhere near enough. He’d say: “Good try, Danny! You’re not going to believe this, but Thelma McCurdie’s massive record-breaking 622-centimetre bottom has foiled another one of your record attempts! In January 1994, Thelma slipped on a chilli-cheese French fry and broke her bum!”’
‘Mr Bibby would never use the word “bum”,’ said Matthew.
‘True,’ Danny grinned. ‘How much plaster do you think you’d need to cover a bottom as big as that?’
Matthew shrugged. ‘About three tonnes, I bet.’
‘“When the cast was sawn off four months later,”’ continued Danny, pretending to be Mr Bibby again. ‘“Officers from the Great Big Book of World Records took eleven years, five months and nineteen days to add up all the names.”’
‘“It took so long, because after five years, three months and twenty-nine days, they lost count and had to start again!”’ laughed Matthew. ‘“They eventually counted twelve quidtrillion, nineteen zigzillion, six googillion, four thousand, five hundred and forty-three signatures!”’
Danny chuckled. Then he nudged his friend. ‘Look, Matt!’
Mr Collinson, the Coalclough Sparrows football coach, was pinning the new season’s fixture list to the school noticeboard. The boys hurried over to see who they would be playing.
‘The first game’s against Parpington Aardvarks,’ said Matthew. ‘We beat them five–nil last year. They couldn’t score against you in a megatrinzillion games! You’d have broken the clean-sheet record against them!’
Danny didn’t answer. He was looking at the team third on the list: Bunbury Bantams.
‘Oh no!’ he said. ‘That’s her team. We’ll be playing against Sally Butterworth, and she’s already scored against me.’
‘That was beach football,’ argued Matthew. ‘It doesn’t count. And anyway, you won’t be fit in time for that game.’
‘No, but I will be fit for the Junior Schools’ Invitation Soccer Tournament two weeks later, and we’re playing against Bunbury Bantams again!’
Just then a new kid swaggered up to them.
Danny turned and came face to face with Maradona Potts, the boy whose cheating cheese had put him in plaster.
‘You!’ exclaimed Danny.
‘Me!’ retorted Potts.
Danny lifted his plaster-covered leg. ‘You did this!’
Maradona glanced down. ‘Tough,’ he snorted.
‘What kind of a name’s Maradona?’ asked Matthew.
‘My dad wanted me to be the greatest striker in the world ever. But I’m going to be the greatest goalkeeper in the world ever instead.’
‘My dad’s the Greatest Goalkeeper in the World Ever,’ said Danny.
‘Who’s your dad?’
‘Bobby Baker.’
‘Never heard of him.’
Danny glared at the new kid. ‘And I’m the goalie for Coalclough Sparrows.’
Maradona raised his eyebrows and stared at Danny’s crutches.
‘I’ll be back in a couple of weeks,’ said Danny.
‘Tough. I’m in the team now, so you won’t get your place back.’
Before Danny could reply, Potts swaggered away. ‘Get used to being in the reserves, Baker,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘You’re going to be there for a long time.’
‘Twit,’ said Danny.
‘Twerp,’ agreed Matthew.
Dear Mr Bibby
I’m in trouble with my sister, Natalie, again. It was all her fault though. Probably.
This morning, I tried to break the world record for the Tallest Free-standing Tower of Animal-shaped Jellies. I used my Auntie Sarah’s wombat-shaped jelly moulds, and Wibberly Wobberly’s Sausage and Satsuma jelly. I followed the instructions, but they came out too wibbly.
Matthew made a gi
ant ruler that he stuck to the wall of my house and I built the tower on the patio in front of it. He also invented a thingummyjig with a plate on the end of an extending arm, so that I could keep piling the jellies higher and higher.
I’d got the tower as high as my bedroom window when Nats came into the garden with her best friends Kaylie and Kylie. Just as I was putting another jelly on top of the pile, she yelled, ‘MUM!’ – snitching on me like she always does. The noise made me jump and I nudged the tower. It swung backwards, bounced off the wall, then crashed over like a tree. Natalie, Kaylie and Kylie were standing in a line and SPLAT! the jellies got all three of them.
Kylie's allergic to sausages and straight away her face swelled up in big red blotches.
Here’s a picture Matthew took of my wombat-shape jelly tower. It was 5.29 m high when it fell. Is this a record? I hope so, because today I’ve got three girls trying to pull my ears off.
Best wishes
Danny Baker
PS I had my plaster cast sawn off yesterday. Now I’ve got to get fit. I want that clean-sheet record!
Dear Danny
When will you learn? Sisters and records don’t mix, and neither do sausages and satsumas, if you ask me!
The world record for the Tallest Free-standing Tower of Animal-shaped Jellies is held by fifteen Outer Mongolian jelly-worshippers. Their leader, Jelli Belli, wanted to create a Jelly Heaven on Earth, so the group built a stone temple on the outskirts of Ulan Bator, and filled it with jellies of all shapes, sizes and flavours. At the centre was a vast trembling tower of mango-flavoured, yak-shaped jellies, 89 m high.