by Andy Stanton
A Well, the answer to this one is simple. I have it here, written on a piece of pape– hold on, where’s that piece of paper got to? Honestly, I had it just a minute ago. Sorry. Next question!
Q If you get fake wings and strap them to everyone’s backs and then tie everyone to invisible wires so it looks like they’re flying, and then act like it’s completely normal in front of a baby who’s never seen people before, will that baby grow real wings and learn to fly?
A Yes, babies’ brains are trained to copy everything they see. After about a week of looking at everyone else hovering around, the baby’s brain will think that’s how things should be done and send a signal to the body telling it to hurry up and make some enormous wings. Within a week the wings will have sprouted and within a month the baby will be flying around without a care in the world. That is also how birds were invented – by tricking a baby vole.
Q How did Mr Gum and Billy William the Third become friends?
A Well, that is a very good question, far better than your other ones, which I thought were quite ridiculous, to be honest.
Mr Gum and Billy met way back in the old days when they were just young lads. Here, take a look for yourself . . .
Young Master Gum Makes a Friend
Young Master Gum was a ten-year-old boy with a red beard and two bloodshot eyes that stared out at you like a ten-year-old octopus curled up in a bad cave. He was a complete horror who hated children (even though he was one), animals and fun. What he liked was scribbling all over library books, sitting in his filthy living room, and saying ‘I wonder what’s on TV’.
‘I wonder what’s on TV,’ said Master Gum one afternoon as he sat in his filthy living room, scribbling all over library books. ‘Shabba me young boy’s whiskers! They’re showin’ The Queen Eating Wafers again.’
It was true. Back in those days, there were only three TV channels in the whole of England: BBC1, BBC2 and Upside-Down BBC2, which was just the same as BBC2, only you stood on your head to pretend it was a different channel. And the only programme that was ever on was The Queen Eating Wafers.
‘Stupid Queen!’ growled Master Gum. ‘Stupid wafers! I wish they’d hurry up an’ invent a programme about somethin’ useful, like some sticks in a bag or somethin’. But that’ll never happen. Stupid everythin’!’
‘Mmm,’ said the Queen as she ate another wafer on TV. ‘It’s brilliant being the Queen. Free wafers all day, plus I’m on TV all the time. What a laugh it all is! I’m glad I’m the Queen instead of you, Master Gum! Ha ha ha!’
‘Shabba me whiskers!’ growled Master Gum, switching the TV off by kicking it in with his boot, smashing it up with a sledgehammer, throwing it out the lounge window, running outside, hopping up and down all over the bits, sweeping the bits up into a cardboard box, running down the road with the cardboard box on his shoulder, hopping on a bus for forty-five minutes, hopping off the bus, throwing the cardboard box over a cliff into the sea and running back home again.
‘What a borin’ flippin’ life I lead,’ he said once he was back home. ‘I wonder what’s on TV.’
Master Gum went to turn on his TV but of course it wasn’t there anymore. It was nothing but dust, floating around the ocean and poisoning wildlife.
‘Oh, yeah,’ he said. ‘I forgot I kicked the TV in. What a bother.’
Master Gum sat back in his broken armchair and amused himself by spitting up into the air and waiting to see if the spit landed on his face. It always did.
‘I’m the best at this!’ he laughed. But eventually he ran out of spit.
‘I better go an’ get some more,’ he scowled. So off he stomped, out of the house and down the street, to get some more spit from the spit shop.
Now, in those old-fashioned days, there were only four shops in the whole of Lamonic Bibber. There was a shop that sold wheat, another shop that sold half-price wheat and another shop that gave the wheat away for free. It was a very competitive business. And then there was Billy William the Second’s Palace of Spit, run by a miserable old geezer called Billy William the Second.
Master Gum was secretly a bit scared of Old Man Billy – in fact, all the children of the town were, and all sorts of legends had grown up around him. Some of the children said that if you whispered, ‘Old Man Billy, where are my eyes?’ three times at midnight, then Old Man Billy would appear at your window with stolen diamonds in his mouth. Some of them said that Old Man Billy had once been a famous murderer in a far-off country called Madeupia. And some of them said that Old Man Billy could crawl through any space, no matter how small.
Young Master Gum didn’t believe all the stories he had heard but he was still careful to be polite whenever he went into the spit shop, because Old Man Billy had a nasty habit of bashing you with his fists when you weren’t looking. And when you were looking, he’d bash you again, twice as hard as before.
‘That’ll teach you for lookin’,’ Old Man Billy would grumble. And then he’d laugh so hard his wooden leg would fall off, even though he didn’t have a wooden leg.
‘Good mornin’, Old Man Billy,’ said Master Gum now, as he walked into Billy William the Second’s Palace of Spit.
‘I don’t see what’s so “good” about it,’ sneered Old Man Billy.
‘All right,’ said Master Gum. ‘Mornin’, Old Man Billy.’
‘I don’t see what’s so “morning” about it,’ sneered Old Man Billy, pointing to his wristwatch. ‘Look, it’s the afternoon, you ignorant swiper.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Master Gum. ‘Well, never mind that now, you strange old bloke what scares me quite a lot. I wanna buy some spit. I used up all mine gobbin’ it on me own face cos I’m so brilliant.’
‘No chance of that, beardboy,’ said Old Man Billy. ‘I’m all out of spit. I sold me last bucket to the Queen ten minutes ago. Her mouth gets terrible dry cos of all them wafers she’s always eatin’, so she took the lot.’
‘Shabba me whiskers!’ growled Master Gum. ‘Stupid blibberin’ monarch!’
‘OI!’ yelled Old Man Billy, clipping Master Gum around the ear. ‘No swearin’ in my shop, you filthy-mouthed crumb! I’m in a bad enough mood already.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ said Master Gum. ‘An’ why’s that then?’
‘I’ll tell you why,’ said Old Man Billy. ‘Jus’ this mornin’ I come downstairs an’ I noticed this little swiper.’
Old Man Billy pointed to a scrawny boy in a butcher’s cap and apron who was cowering in the corner, dribble coming out of his nose. Master Gum hadn’t noticed him there before because the shop was so dark and dingy, and also – well, that was really the reason, it was just because the shop was so dark and dingy, there wasn’t any other reason he hadn’t noticed him, that was it. Anyway, he hadn’t noticed him there before.
‘He says he’s my son,’ said Old Man Billy. ‘He says his name’s Billy William the Third. He says he’s been standin’ in that corner ever since he was a baby.’
‘What, didn’t you notice him there before?’ said Master Gum in astonishment.
‘Nah,’ said Old Man Billy. ‘This shop’s so dark an’ dingy, I never saw him there. I never even knew I had a son.’
‘Why’s he dressed as a butcher?’ said Master Gum.
‘I dunno,’ said Old Man Billy, punching Master Gum’s hat so hard that his fist went through and came out the other side. ‘Who cares? Anyway, I don’t want no son. You can have him if you want.’
‘OK,’ said Master Gum. ‘Thanks.’
And so Master Gum left the shop with Billy William the Third following along behind him like a disgraced bean.
‘What you squintin’ at?’ scowled Master Gum as he and Billy William the Third walked down the road together.
‘It’s the sunlight, Master Gum, me old new best friend,’ replied Billy. ‘I never seen it before cos I never been outside. In fact, I didn’t even know it was called “sunlight”, that was just a lucky guess.’
‘Well, stick with me an’ I’ll teach you everythin
’,’ grinned Master Gum, who saw he could have some fun with Billy. ‘See that thing over there?’ he said, pointing to a screwdriver lying on the pavement.
‘Yeah?’ said Billy.
‘That’s called a “Matthew Robinson”,’ said Master Gum. And from that day to this, Billy William the Third has always thought that screwdrivers are called ‘Matthew Robinsons’.
As Billy and Master Gum walked along, they saw a young boy on his hands and knees in the town square, digging in the dirt.
‘Who’s that?’ said Billy.
‘That’s young Master Friday O’Leary,’ scowled Master Gum. ‘Don’t you go near him, Billy me boy. He’s a weirdo an’ a menace an’ he’s always up to somethin’ or other what I simply cannot stand.’
‘What’s he doin’?’ asked Billy.
‘I’m planting a stone acorn,’ answered Master O’Leary cheerfully. ‘One day it will grow into a wonderful stone statue of an oak tree. And people can sit beneath its lovely stone branches and enjoy the shade for generations to come. THE TRUTH IS FLOUR, BUTTER, EGGS, CORNFLOUR, CASTER SUGAR, FINELY GRATED LEMON ZEST AND FRESH LEMON JUICE!’
(You see, as a young boy, Master O’Leary already had all the ingredients for the truth – he just hadn’t put them together yet.)
‘Told you he was a weirdo,’ said Master Gum.
‘I reckon we oughta –’
But just then the cry went up:
‘Pillows! I have got some pillows! Do you want any pillows? I have got some pillows!’
‘Well, flip me kidneys into a bush an’ call me a mechanical burp!’ exclaimed Master Gum, forgetting all about Master O’Leary. ‘It’s Ned Needles!’
Now, Ned Needles was a travelling pillow salesman. Up and down the land he rode on his great shire horse, selling pillows to one and all. His horse’s name was Handsome and you could see why, for no nobler animal ever did walk the earth. Ned loved him to bits, even though Handsome had accidentally killed his entire family by treading on them.
‘Pillows!’ cried Ned Needles again. ‘Who wants some pillows?’
‘What are “pillows”?’ whispered Billy William.
‘Shut up,’ said Master Gum, stamping on Billy’s foot to teach him a lesson. The lesson was that it hurts when people stamp on your foot. ‘Pillows is magnificent. Pillows is what you rest your head on when you lie down in yer bed for a crafty snooze.’
‘I don’t even know what a bed is,’ laughed Billy. ‘I used to sleep standin’ up in the corner of the spit shop.’
‘Well, mark my words,’ said Master Gum. ‘Pillows is superb. An’ I fancies one! OI, NEEDLES! Give us one of them pillows!’
‘G-g-good day to you, young gentlemen,’ said Ned Needles, bringing his horse to a stop by pressing the ‘OFF’ button behind Handsome’s left ear. ‘W-w-what a pleasure it i-is to m-meet you both.’
‘Enough of yer talkin’ you nervous shrimp!’ laughed Master Gum. ‘I wanna see yer finest pillow an’ I wanna see it NOW!’
‘Yeah,’ said Billy William, who was busy pulling Handsome’s tail to see if it would make him lay an egg or do a fart or something.
‘R-right you are, young gents,’ stammered Ned Needles, jumping down from the saddle. ‘Handsome, show them the g-goods.’
At his master’s command, Handsome opened his great mouth – and inside, resting on his soft pink tongue, was a marvellous pure white pillow.
‘It is made of the finest s-silk,’ said Ned Needles. ‘And s-s-stuffed with the finest goose f-feathers.’
Master Gum inspected the pillow and his bloodshot eyes lit up like stolen crackers.
‘Ever so comfy,’ he murmured. ‘How much do you want for it?’
‘6p,’ said Ned Needles. You see, 6p was a lot of money in those days, much more than 5p, for example.
‘That’s a shame,’ said Billy William. ‘Cos we ain’t got any money, not a penny. Oh, well. Never mind.’
‘Billy me boy,’ grinned Master Gum. ‘You don’t know nothin’ ’bout how the world works. Here’s how we do things ’round here!’
And with that he snatched the pillow from Ned Needles and pushed him into the dirt. Getting the idea, Billy kicked Handsome in the leg for good measure.
‘Ha ha ha!’ laughed Master Gum. ‘You little shrimp!’ he shouted at Ned Needles. ‘You pathetic little boo-flake!’
And off they ran down the road, Billy and Master Gum, carrying the fine pillow above their heads like hunters returning from the chase.
‘That was brilliant,’ said Billy as they approached the high street. ‘It’s great bein’ your best friend, Master Gum. Oh, well. I s’pose I better be gettin’ back to the spit shop now.’
But just then they heard a terrible cawing noise. And looking up they were startled to see Old Man Billy being carried off by a giant crow.
‘You dirty swiper!’ roared Old Man Billy. ‘Put me down, put me down I say!’
But the great bird paid him no heed, and the two boys watched as it disappeared into the distance.
‘Well, that’s the end of him,’ laughed Master Gum. ‘He’ll be eaten, high up in that feathery devil’s nest. Chomp, chomp, chomp, beak, chomp.’
‘Good,’ said Billy William the Third. ‘He was a completely rubbish dad an’ I’m glad he’s gone. Now I can have the shop for meself an’ I can be what I always dreamed of bein’ – a lovely florist what sells beautiful roses an’ makes everyone happy.’
‘That’s a stupid idea,’ said Master Gum. ‘Why don’t you be a butcher instead? Seein’ as you already got a butcher’s apron on.’
‘OK, then,’ laughed Billy William the Third. Not a nice laugh like you or I would do, but a sneaky old laugh on the inside, where nobody else could see. ‘A butcher I will be, Master G, a butcher I will be! With a hig an’ a hog an’ a jiggety-jog, a bu– OOF! Somethin’ just kicked me in the head!’
‘Shut up,’ growled Master Gum, who had climbed up a nearby stepladder so he could do a surprise attack on Billy from above. ‘Now, you’re meant to be a butcher, aintcha? Well, why ain’t we got any scoffs? I’m absolutely starvin’ me knuckles off here!’
‘Don’t you worry ’bout that,’ said Billy William the Third, sniffing the air with his long quivering nose. ‘This way!’
The two boys walked down a dirty overgrown alleyway and there they found a battered metal dustbin, leaning drunkenly against an ants’ nest in the last dying shaft of afternoon sunlight.
‘It’s beautiful,’ sighed Master Gum.
‘Let’s see what treasure’s inside,’ said Billy, and he lifted the lid to reveal a pile of sloppy meat and entrails amidst the rubbish. ‘Oho! Looks like we’re in luck!’
And so the two boys sat there, chomping away contentedly as the flies buzzed all around them. A scraggy alley cat wailed a lonesome song called ‘Ain’t Got No Fur’. The first rats were coming out to play in the shadows.
‘Well, Billy,’ said Master Gum as he sucked down a chicken liver. ‘I thought you was nothin’ but a useless idiot – but I was wrong. You’re actually quite a useful idiot. I got a feelin’ you an’ me is gonna go far together, specially me.’
And from that day to this, Mr Gum and Billy have been the very best of friends.
About the Author
Andy Stanton lives in North London. He studied English at Oxford but they kicked him out. He has been a film script reader, a cartoonist, an NHS lackey and lots of other things. He has many interests, but best of all he likes cartoons, books and music (even jazz). One day he’d like to live in New York or Berlin or one of those places because he’s got fantasies of bohemia. His favourite expression is ‘I haven’t got a favourite expression’ and his favourite word is ‘is’.
About the Illustrator
David Tazzyman lives in South London with his girlfriend, Melanie, and their son, Stanley. He grew up in Leicester, studied illustration at Manchester Metropolitan University and then travelled around Asia for three years before moving to London in 1997. He likes football, cric
ket, biscuits, music and drawing. He still dislikes celery.
Yes, Jonah is exactly 100% correct. The ‘Mr Gum’ audiobook thingies are so funny you won’t be able to speak, maybe forever. And guess who reads them out? Me! And guess who I am? Andy Stanton! So get them today, you nibbleheads, and experience the fun – it’s like reading a book with your ears!
Available on CD, over the internet, by phone or inside the bellies of magic frogs. To order a copy or for more information go to www.bbcshop.com or phone 01225 443400.
(Headphones not supplied. But maybe you can borrow a spare pair off Jonah, he seems to have far too many.)
