by Paul Cooper
Little Petey gave the sort of cheeky toddler grin that looks a bit weird on a full-grown pig. Humming ‘I’m a Little Poopot’ under his breath, he pulled back the throttle and pushed forward on the yoke. The plane’s nose pointed gently downwards as it went into its descent.
However, although Little Petey had a natural talent for flying, he didn’t know about all the many controls. He didn’t know, for example, about lowering the landing gear.
With no wheels down, the first part of the plane that touched the ground was the fuselage. There was a dreadful sound of metal scraping against concrete. It got louder as the entire plane touched down. As it scraped forward along the road, showers of sparks flew out from either side.
Inside the cockpit, Queen Baabara in the co-pilot’s seat had her hooves over her eyes, but Little Petey struggled to hold on to the controls. He could see the Houses of Baaliament straight ahead.
Acting on gut feeling alone, he jerked the controls to one side. The plane went into a final spin as its tail end came swinging round … right towards the spot where Wolfman and Prince Larry were standing.
Wolfman sprang back to safety. The plane had almost come to a stop, but not before the tail end slammed into Prince Larry. It shot the green ram into the air, right towards the bandstand. ‘WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!’
He landed end-first in an abandoned tuba. Staggering shakily to his feet, he grabbed one of the trumpets left behind by the band. Then he straightened up, puckered his lips, and began to play. He was a bit rusty, but the tune was recognizable. It was the last lines of ‘Baa, Baa, Royal Sheep’.
As soon as they heard the music, the crowd of sheep surrounding Brian and Curly just stopped in their tracks. They all looked confused. At the front of the group, Tammy looked at the spanner in her hands, and rolled her eyes.
‘Not again!’ she complained.
Meanwhile, Brian was slapping his head. ‘It was the music! That was the trigger, not the words! When we were at the Palace, it was the band practice outside that triggered you. And the same music was playing in the audio clips we used. It was just chance that the words were the same!’
But Curly had more pressing concerns. ‘Where’s Wolfman?’ he asked.
He pushed his way through the crowd of baffled sheep towards the Houses of Baaliament. Up ahead, he could see Wolfman making use of the general confusion to shove his way back towards the TV cameras. Was he going to try hypnotize the island’s sheep all over again?
Wolfman elbowed the two TV commentators aside and stared once more into the lens. His yellow eyes blazed like fire. ‘Residents of Sheep Island,’ he began, but he didn’t manage any more than that. Curly leapt up from behind and jammed his PiPs woolly hat over the top half of Wolfman’s head. With his hypnotic eyes out of view, the power was gone.
‘Quick!’ Curly shouted to the nearby GrassEaters. ‘Arrest this wolf!’
The crowd began to cheer. They cheered even louder when Queen Baabara staggered out of the side door of the royal plane. She couldn’t walk straight and her crown was on at a funny angle, but she was proudly wearing the real Golden Fleece.
Behind her a large pig came bounding out. He pointed back at the plane. ‘Didja see that?’ he cried. ‘I wanna do it again!’
Once everyone had been de-hypnotized, the Opening of Baaliament went without a hitch.
Back at the Palace afterwards, the Queen listened to her son’s confession gravely. ‘ We believe you have learnt your lesson. Indeed, as a reward for your bravery, we have decided to give you more royal duties.’
‘Really, Mummy?’
‘Indeed. We are sending you on an official tour of the Sheep Tick Islands.’
This was an island chain to the north where wild sheep roamed across the barren, windswept rocks and hungry sheep ticks roamed across the sheep.
‘Thank you, Mummy,’ said Prince Larry sheepishly.
Queen Baabara turned to the PiPs. ‘As for all of you … as a token of our gratitude, you will stay at the Palace for a six-course grass banquet.’
The PiPs shuffled uneasily as they tried to think up excuses. Tammy said she was starting a new pie-only diet, and Pete explained that he had booked a session at the Fry Up tanning salon.
When she saw the panicked look on their faces, the Queen smiled broadly. ‘We are most amused.’
Epilogue
Air Chief Marshal Plumpkin’s yearly visit to the PiPs base was almost over, and so far it had gone really well. As usual, Peregrine had taken the visitor on a full tour. The two looked impressive together. As befitted the highest-ranking officer, the Air Chief Marshal’s tummy was even larger than Peregrine’s and his moustache was even bigger.
Of course, the Air Chief Marshal had also wanted to meet the PiPs team.
‘I received a telephone call from the Queen of Sheep Island,’ he told Pete. ‘She said to me that you did a fine job yesterday.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Pete winked at Peregrine and Lola. ‘It was just a matter of finding my inner piglet.’
‘Good job, all of you!’ Plumpkin turned to the whole team. ‘And you all look quite striking in those matching woolly hats, I must say.’
Curly beamed.
There was just time for the Air Chief Marshal to have a light lunch and then his helicopter for the mainland would be ready for take-off. Peregrine was already looking relieved. For once, nothing had gone wrong!
The two senior officers headed for the dining area.
‘But what’s going to happen when Peregrine has a chocolate biscuit?’ asked Tammy. ‘He won’t be able to stop himself. And if another button pings off and hits the Air Chief Marshal in the eye, it’ll be a disaster again.’
Lola gave a little smile. ‘It’s not going to happen,’ she said. ‘Your mission gave me a brilliant idea. I borrowed Brian’s book and tried a little hypnotism on the Wing Commander.’
‘Are you sure you did it right?’
Lola nodded. ‘Oh, yes. As soon as he’s offered a chocolate biscuit, that’s the trigger. He’ll just smile politely and say, “No, thank you.” You’ll see.’
The team watched through the window as a plate of chocolate biccies was brought to the two officers.
The Air Chief Marshal smiled. ‘Well, Oinks-Gruntington, for once I’m nicely surprised by how well everything is running here.’ He helped himself to a biccie, then held the plate out. ‘Want one yourself?’
As soon as the trigger words were spoken, Peregrine’s eyes went blank. Then he hopped up on to his chair and clamped both trotters to his waist.
‘Er, Lola?’ asked Brian. ‘Was anyone else in the room when you were hypnotizing Peregrine?’
‘I think Pete was singing to his niece and nephew on the phone,’ said Lola. ‘Oh. Oh dear …’
The Air Chief Marshal watched in open-mouthed astonishment as the Wing Commander began to sing in his booming voice:
‘I’m a little poopot,
Short and stout!’
He did all the actions, and he was surprisingly nimble for such a bulky pig.
‘Here is my handle
For waving me about.’
The rest of the PiPs watched in horror. ‘He must have heard Pete instead of my instructions!’ cried Lola.
Pete was already heading for the door. ‘Where are you going?’ cried Tammy. ‘It’s our duty to do something!’
‘Adult pigs have to do their duty,’ explained Pete. ‘I’m getting in touch with my inner piglet … and doing a runner!’
The other PiPs thought this over, while Peregrine’s voice floated through the window behind them:
‘When I get all filled up
Hear me shout:
Don’t kick me
Or poo will fly out!’
They had to admit, it was important to get in touch with your inner piglet every once in a while.
‘PiPs are GO!’ they all shouted, chasing Pete out through the door.
in Planes: the Big Baad Sheep
