by Duncan Ball
For the real Selby
(wherever he may be)
CONTENTS
Cover
Author’s Note
I’m Sorry
Bogusville Map
The Enchanted Dog
Gary Gaggs
Selby
Seven Signs of a Talking Dog
Say G’Day
This School is Driving Me Nuts!
Selby Gagged
I Love to Travel
A Poem about an Orange
The Elephant Ride
Dr Trifle
Mrs Trifle
I See the Sea and the Sea Sees Me
I’d Rather have Four Legs than Two
The Teeth of a Vampire
I Wasn’t Good at Anything
Dr Trifle’s Travelling TOOT
Aunt Jetty
Madame Mascara
The Bouncing Dog
My Limerick
Selby in Suspense
Willy and Billy
Postie Paterson
My Best Friend
Tiffany Taffeny Tow
Camilla Bonzer
Sergeant Short & Constable Long
Selby Lovestruck
Jokes Jokes Jokes
Knock Knock
Songs Songs Songs
Why is it That Everyone Hates Me?
This Sorry Hound Is City Bound
That’s it
About the Author
By the Same Author
Selby’s Joke Book
Selby’s Shemozzle
Copyright
Author’s Note
This book was Selby’s idea.
He wanted a selection of some of his favourite things: a few of the best stories from other Selby books, more information about the colourful characters in Selby’s stories (and himself), and some of Gary Gaggs’ comedy routines, jokes and plays. He particularly wanted to put in some of the songs from the musical ‘Selby, the Talking Dog'. I asked him if we could include a map of Bogusville because so many kids want to know what it looks like. Surprisingly, Selby agreed straightaway and sent a sketch of the town to Allan Stomann so that he could do the drawing on page xiv.
I also saw Selby’s sketch myself and I can’t tell you how exciting it was to see what Bogusville actually looked like. I couldn’t resist getting out my map of Australia and looking for a similar town to see if I could figure out where Selby really lives and to find the real name of Bogusville. It was only after some hours of searching that I noticed a note at the bottom of Selby’s sketch in tiny paw writing. It said:
So the whereabouts of the only talking dog in Australia and, perhaps, the world remains a mystery.
I’m Sorry
Bogusville Map
The Enchanted Doc
‘Oh, look,’ said Mrs Trifle, who was reading the latest copy of the Sisters of Limelight Every-Two-Weekly Newsletter, ‘the Bogusville Stage Stompers are doing a play called The Enchanted Dog and they need a dog for the title role. I think I’ll take Selby to the audition to see if he can get the part.’
Selby’s ears shot up.
‘I’ve always wanted to act,’ he thought. ‘Ever since I did my highwire act at the circus I’ve been addicted to applause. Now I can’t get enough of it.’
That afternoon Mrs Trifle took Selby to the Bogusville Bijou where the author and director of the play, Melanie Mildew, who was also the gardener at the Bogusville Memorial Rose Garden when she wasn’t writing and directing plays, was just starting the first rehearsal.
‘Will he sit when you ask him to?’ Melanie asked Mrs Trifle.
‘Yes, of course,’ Mrs Trifle answered.
‘And will he come when he’s called?’
‘Well yes, I think so.’
‘He’ll be perfect,’ Melanie said. ‘Just leave him with us.’
‘It doesn’t sound like a very demanding part,’ Selby thought. ‘But it’ll have to do.’
‘Attention everyone,’ Melanie said, clapping her hands above her head. ‘We have a dog. We can begin. Now let me tell you about the play. It’s about a bullock driver who comes to a sheep station which is owned by three sisters who are really witches. They need a dog to drive their sheep. So they invite the bullocky in for dinner, feed him some pawpaw that they’ve cast a spell on and then play some music that turns him into a sheepdog.’
‘Great stuff!’ thought Selby, who was really getting into the swing of things.
‘The big scene is when the bullocky — that’s you,’ Melanie said to Postie Paterson, ‘tries to break the spell by dancing The Dance of Darkness.‘
‘Why does he want to break the spell?’ Selby wondered. ‘What’s so bad about being a dog?’
‘What you do is this,’ Melanie said. ‘You eat the pawpaw and then stagger out of the house into the moonlight and fall behind that rock over there. Selby will be hiding there and all you have to do is push him out into the spotlight while you change into the dog suit. When you’ve got the suit on, you call Selby back behind the rock and then we cut the spotlight and you do The Dance of Darkness. The stage will be very dark and you will look just like a real dog dancing around. Okay? So The Dance of Darkness breaks the spell and the three sisters turn into emus and go running off. End of play. Everybody got it?’
‘Let’s see,’ Selby thought. ‘First I sit still behind the rock. Then I stand in the spotlight. Then I go back behind the rock and sit some more. Not a great part but I’ll see what I can do with it.’
‘All right, then,’ Melanie said. ‘Places everyone. Let’s give it a run-through.’
On opening night a full house watched in silence as the Stage Stompers performed the first act of The Enchanted Dog and Selby waited behind the rock for his big moment. The magic of the play began to bring out the actor in him and he felt his heart throb when Postie Paterson gagged on the enchanted pawpaw and staggered towards him.
Not waiting to be pushed, Selby leaped out from behind the rock as soon as Postie fell behind it. He jumped into the spotlight and stood there on his hind legs, turning from side to side so the audience could get a good look at him.
‘This is wonderful!’ Selby thought, and the excitement of the moment surged through him, sending shivers of delight up his spine.
Then from behind the rock he heard Postie Paterson whisper, ‘Psssssssssst! Here, doggy. That’s enough.’
But instead of just walking back behind the rock as the spotlight went off, Selby leaped high in the air, jumping over the rock and hitting Postie squarely on the back as he bent down to put on the pants part of the dog suit. Postie went down with a crash, hitting his head on the floor.
‘Postie!’ Selby whispered, risking giving away his secret. ‘Are you okay?’
But there was no answer and in a moment a murmur rose from the audience as they wondered what would happen next.
‘You are caught in our web of darkness,’ one of the witches said for the third time. ‘You will never escape from us now.’
The murmur soon grew to a mass of whispers and then Selby called out in a voice that sounded just like the postman’s, ‘I will break your spell forever. I will dance The Dance of Darkness and be forever free.’
Selby danced out in the half-light of the stage, whirling and twirling as the audience fell silent again. He leaped about as the music grew louder, feeling its beat flow through him. The audience gasped at the sight of the shadowy dog-figure, and from the back of the stalls someone cried out, ‘Brilliant!’ and another, ‘What acting! What dancing!’
Selby danced faster and faster; first on all fours, then on his hind legs and then leaping from leg to leg at blinding speed. Suddenly — just as the music stopped and the curtain began to fall — Selby saw Postie Paterson begin to come to. He leaped bac
k behind the rock just as the house lights came on. The audience stood up and shouted, ‘Bravo! Bravo!’ and Melanie Mildew dashed across the stage and threw her arms around Postie Paterson who had just staggered out from behind the rock.
‘You were fabulous!’ she cried. ‘What a dancer! And that dog suit was perfect! You looked more like a dog than Selby!’
‘Don’t let it go to your head,’ Selby thought, feeling more proud of himself by the moment.
‘But … but,’ sputtered Postie Paterson, holding his aching head with both hands, ‘I can’t remember a thing. The only part of The Dance of Darkness I remember is the darkness part.’
‘The Enchanted Dog’ first appeared in the book Selby’s Secret.
Gary Gaggs
The funniest funnyman
in the bush.
PERSONAL DETAILS:
Job: Comedian (formerly a funeral director).
Born in: Gulargambone, Australia.
Favourite expressions: ‘Woo woo woo!’ (Said after he tells a joke.) ‘But seriously, folks.’ (Said after he tells a joke.) ‘It’s true. It’s absolutely true.’ (Said after he tells a joke.)
Favourite food: Soup. (So he can say, ‘Waiter, waiter! There’s a fly in my soup!') Or any food with lots of corn in it. (The cornier, the better.)
Favourite activity: Making people laugh.
Likes: People who laugh at his jokes.
Dislikes: People who don’t laugh at his jokes.
BACKGROUND:
Gary made people laugh from the day he was born. (He was very funny to look at.) Later he found a book of corny old jokes and memorised them to make people laugh even more.
There were two people that Gary could never make laugh — his parents. They never laughed at anything. They ran a funeral business. When his parents retired and he took over the family business he had a brilliant idea: he’d tell jokes at funerals to cheer people up. He renamed the business Funny Funerals and put up ads that said, ‘Come to Funny Funerals and die laughing!’ He was out of business within a month.
Since then, Gary has toured the world with his comedy act. He calls it, ‘All the jokes you could ever want to hear and lots you wouldn’t'.
Gary’s one regret is that he’s never been able to make his parents laugh — or even smile — at one of his jokes.
Selby
The only talking dog in Australia and, perhaps, the world. Also called ‘The Down-Under Wonderdog'.
PERSONAL DETAILS:
Age: 10.
Size: Not too big and not too small.
Fur colour: (He’s not telling.)
Eye colour: (He’s not telling.)
Breed: Bitser — a bit of this and a bit of that.
Favourite expressions: ‘Oh, woe woe woe.’ (When things aren’t going well.) ‘Oh, no!’ (When they’re going even worse.)
Favourite food: ‘Peanut Prawns', prawns in peanut sauce from The Spicy Onion Restaurant, cooked by Bogusville’s famous chef, Phil Philpott.
Least favourite food: Dry-Mouth Dog Biscuits. (The Trifles think that he loves them but he can’t tell them that he hates them.)
Favourite activity: Inactivity. Taking it easy and watching TV.
Second favourite activity: Writing poetry. (Usually doggerel.)
Principal weakness: Falls in love very easily.
BACKGROUND:
Dr and Mrs Trifle got Selby from the RSPCA when he was a puppy. Later, he was lying on the carpet at the Trifles’ house when he gradually realised that he could understand everything people were saying on TV. He taught himself to talk and was going to tell the Trifles when he suddenly realised that if people knew he could talk it would ruin his life forever.
Selby put together a list of reasons why he shouldn’t let people know he could speak:
1. The Trifles might put him to work around the house.
2. He might be sent off to a laboratory to answer scientists’ stupid questions all day.
3. He’d be so valuable that he might be dognapped and held for ransom.
4. People would crowd around the house, trying to talk to him and take his picture. He’d never get any peace and quiet.
So he’s kept his talking a secret ever since.
Paw note:You can read all about it in the story ‘Selby’s Secret’ in the book Selby’s Secret.
Seven Signs of a Talking Dog
Say G’Day
(Some greetings for different occasions)
Good Day
If you’re invited round for tea
With the PM or the Governor-G
There are certain manners to display,
Extend your hand and say, ‘Good day.’
Goo Day
When you’ve been playing out-of-doors
And tracked some muck around the floors
Just take away the D and say,
‘Hi, Mum! What fun! It must be goo day.’
Go Day
You’re cycling at a rate of knots,
The footpath clears! Uh-oh – the cops!
Remove an O and simply say,
‘I’m sorry, guys, but it’s my go day.’
G’Day
But if again it’s mates you’re meeting
Use that good old Aussie greeting,
Just take another O away
Then smile and simply say, ‘G’day.'
This School is Driving Me Nuts!
BY GARY GAGGS
First performed at Bogusville Primary School
Character
A Student
(Played by Prunella Weedy in the original production.)
THE PLAY
Student: This school is driving me nuts. I’ve been to other schools but never one like this. I’ll give you an example. On my first day I was late. I’d sprained my ankle. I gave the principal a note but he said it was a lame excuse. (Pause.)
It’s true. Then the music teacher asked me if I was good at picking up music. I said, ‘Yes,’ and he said, ‘Good. Pick up that CD player and take it to my office.’ (Pause.)
He gave me a few piano lessons. I thought I was going okay. He even asked me if I’d like to take up the piano as a career. ‘Sure,’ I said. He asked, ‘Then why don’t you become a piano mover?’ (Pause.)
That was the day the cookery class burnt something. (Pause.) The cookery classroom.
This school is driving me nuts. Seriously, my teacher asked me to name something really important that didn’t exist fifty years ago and one of the girls in the back yelled out, ‘Me!’ (Pause.)
It’s true. The teacher asked us to write a very long sentence and the same girl came up to the blackboard and wrote two words, ‘Life imprisonment'. ‘That’s the longest sentence you can get,’ she said. (Pause.)
We were talking about survival and the teacher asked her to imagine she was an Eskimo walking across the North Pole when she was suddenly attacked by a huge polar bear.
‘What would you do?’ the teacher asked.
‘I’d throw a spear at him,’ the girl answered.
‘And what would you do if a second polar bear appeared?’ the teacher asked.
‘I’d throw another spear at him.’
‘And what if a third and a fourth and a fifth bear attacked?’
‘I’d throw three more spears,’ the girl answered.
Then the teacher said, ‘Hang on, where are you getting all the spears from?’
And the girl said, ‘The same place you’re getting all the polar bears.’ (Pause.) It’s true. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.
(Loud.) This school is driving me nuts. One of the kids said to the teacher (making a little boy voice), ‘Teacher? Can I get in trouble for something I didn’t do?’
And the teacher said, ‘Don’t be silly. Of course not.’
And the kid said, ‘Good, because I didn’t do my homework.’ (Pause.) It’s true. I swear to you, it’s true.
(Louder.) This school is driving me nuts. The other day we were having a maths lesson and the teacher sai
d to a boy in the front row, ‘If I lend you twenty dollars and ask you to pay me back five dollars every month, how much will you owe me after three months?’
‘Simple,’ the boy said, ‘I’d still owe you twenty dollars.’
And the teacher said, ‘I’m afraid you don’t know very much about arithmetic.’
And the boy said, ‘I’m afraid you don’t know anything about me.’ (Pause.) This is all true.
The teacher used to blame me for everything. One day she asked us all to write a poem. I wrote a really good one. It went like this:
There was a young man named Ned
Who wished that he was dead
So he jumped into a river
And the water was up to his ankles.
But, no, it wasn’t good enough for the teacher.
(In a silly, mocking voice.) ‘It doesn’t rhyme,’ she said.
(Angrily.) Now, was it my fault the water wasn’t deep enough? (Pause.)
(Louder still.) This school is driving me nuts. My teacher was talking about farm animals. One of the girls said she had a pet pig.
‘What’s his name?’ the teacher asked.
‘Ballpoint,’ the girl said.
‘Ballpoint?’ the teacher said. ‘What kind of a name is that?’
‘It’s not his real name,’ the girl said. ‘It’s just his pen name. (Pause.) His real name is “Oink". He’s the only pig in the world that can say his own name.’ (Pause.)
‘Enough of this silliness,’ the teacher said. ‘Today we’re going to have a discussion on Mount Everest.’
‘I can’t,’ the girl said. ‘I’ve got to be home by four o’clock.’ (Pause.)
‘We’re not going to Mount Everest,’ the teacher said. ‘We’re going to discuss it. You’re not very smart, are you?’
‘I may not be very smart,’ the girl said, ‘but I’ll bet I can do something you can’t do.’
‘And what might that be?’ the teacher asked.
