THE END
EPILOGUE
It is the early hours before dawn and the forest clearing stands empty and still. All the people have long since gone home, and aside from an owl arguing with a badger about whether or not squirrels can talk, the grove is silent, bathed in magical, heavenly moonlight.
But now – what’s this? A tapping can be heard, a tip-tapping from across the way. And over the burbling crystal blue stream, comes a rider on a horse. No, not a rider on a horse at all! But a strange creature with the body of a fine strong stallion and the chest and head of a handsome young man.
‘Oh, great one,’ says he, clip-clopping over to the cherry tree which stands tall and graceful in the centre of the clearing. ‘It is safe now. They have all gone.’
‘Are you sure?’ says a voice – and now a small figure can be seen climbing out from inside of the tree trunk itself. A figure with a flute and curly hair, and the shaggy legs of a goat. ‘Are you quite sure they have gone, Tony?’
‘Yes, great Runtus,’ says Tony the Centaur. ‘Those crazy humans are gone at last. And now we can play.’
Then Runtus puts the flute to his lips and plays three quick notes – one, two, three. And from far and near the creatures of the Olden Days come bounding and skipping into the grove. Fauns, leprechauns, those sprites with their almond-shaped eyes . . . It’s all happening. Elves, fairies, all sorts of wild creatures. And finally, trotting into the clearing, the very last guest of the party – a beautiful unicorn, with a horn of pure gold on his forehead and moon dust on his hooves.
‘See, Tony?’ laughs Runtus, as he skips and capers with his friends through the woodlands that he loves. ‘There are real unicorns after all. That Spirit of the Rainbow doesn’t know everything!’
FIN
Hey, kids!
Ever heard of Turkey the flag popper? I have! Want to know more? Then read on. Don’t want to know more? Then don’t read on. Want to throw bacon into the sea? Then for goodness’ sake throw bacon into the sea, no one’s stopping you.
Anyway. Here it is, whether you like it or not . . .
Turkey the
Flag Popper
‘YES!’ cried Friday O’Leary excitedly, waving his newspaper frantically up and down. ‘I knew it! I knew he’d come!’
‘Who?’ cried everyone.
‘Turkey!’ shouted Friday. ‘Turkey the flag popper!’
‘Who’s he?’ cried Polly.
‘What’s he do?’ squeaked Alan Taylor.
‘Where’s he from?’ shouted Old Granny.
‘Who does his laundry?’ yelled Martin Launderette.
‘Why, don’t you know? Don’t you see? Don’t you even understand?’ shouted Friday, producing his trumpet and piano from his top pocket. ‘It’s Turkey! Turkey the flag popper!’
Don’t you know? Don’t you see?
Don’t you even understand?
He’s got a great big orange
and he holds it in his hand!
And he roams the highways
and the byways up and down this land
Turkey the flag popper!
He’s always in a rush except he’s
sometimes in a bush
And he puts a lot of gravy in his tea
He’s got a great big pencil
and it sits behind his ear!
He’s not round when you need him
– when you don’t he’s always near
I saw him eat a ladder once,
but why it was not clear
Turkey the flag popper!
In the mornings he always
phones his mother!
In the afternoons he always
phones his brother!
In the evenings he phones
someone or other!
In the night time he always
phones his mother
again.
Have you seen him?
Do you hear him?
For he’s coming up the path
He’s taller than a kestrel and
he likes a long hot bath
He’s got a great big chocolate cake,
it’s balanced on his head
I saw him eat a crayon once
– the crayon it was red
and when he’d scoffed it
down, my word, it turned
HIM red instead
Turkey the flag popper!
Do you know just where he gets to
In the middle of the night?
When all the wigwam
children are asleep?
He climbs upon a tennis ball
And rolls across the waves
And he plays with all the
monsters of the deep!
I’ve seen him in America
I’ve seen him knitting
underwear for bees!
He’s got a great big piece of stone
he carries round and round
He stole it from a building
in an old Italian town
And that is why the Leaning
Tower of Pisa’s falling down
Turkey the flag popper!
Don’t you know?
Can’t you tell?
Don’t you even have a clue?
He’s ninety per cent water
and the rest of him, is glue!
His best friend was a crocodile
but now he’s just a shoe!
Turkey the flag popper!
Yes, Turkey the flag popper!
Yes, it’s Turkey the fla-a-a-g popper!
‘We gots to go an’ see him!’ said Polly when the song was done and Friday was slumped in his favourite armchair, trying to get his breath back. ‘Oh, Friday, let’s!’
So that night they all camped out in the Old Meadow, waiting for Turkey the flag popper to appear. But he never did.
‘Well,’ said Friday in satisfaction. ‘Not even bothering to turn up – that’s just like old Turkey. What a rascal he is!’
THE END
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 like straws’ and his favourite word is ‘upstart’. This is his seventh book.
Visit www.egmont.co.uk/andystanton for further information on your favourite Egmont author.
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, cricket, biscuits, music and drawing. He still dislikes celery.
Shabba me whiskers! Andy Stanton’s Mr Gum is winner of the Roald Dahl Funny Prize, the Red House Children’s Book Award AND the Blue Peter Book Award for The Most Fun Story With Pictures. AND he’s been shortlisted for LOADS of other prizes too! It’s barking bonkers!
PRAISE FOR Mr Gum
‘Do not even think about buying another book – This is gut-spillingly funty.’ Alex, aged 13
‘Smooky palooki! This book is well brilliant!’ Jeremy Strong
‘It’s hilarious, it’s brilliant . . . Stanton’s the Guv’nor, The Boss.’ Danny Baker, BBC London Radio
‘Funniest book I have ever and will ever read . . . When I read this to my mum she burst out laughing and nearly wet herself . . . When I had finished the book I wanted to read it all over again it was so good.’ Bryony, aged 8
‘Funny? You bet.’ Guardian
‘Andy Stanton accumulates silliness and jokes in an irresistible, laughter-inducing romp.’ Sunday Times
‘Raucous, revoltingly rambunctious and nose-snorti
ngly funny.’ Daily Mail
‘David Tazzyman’s illustrations match the irreverent sparks of word wizardry with slapdash delight.’ Junior Education
‘This is weird, wacky and one in a million.’ Primary Times
‘It provoked long and painful belly laughs from my daughter, who is eight.’ Daily Telegraph
‘As always, Stanton has a ball with dialogue, detail and devilish plot twists.’ Scotsman
‘We laughed so much it hurt.’ Sophie, aged 9
‘You will laugh so much you’ll ache in places you didn’t know you had.’ First News
‘A riotous read.’ Sunday Express
‘It’s utterly bonkers and then a bit more – you’ll love every madcap moment.’ TBK Magazine
‘Chaotically crazy.’ Jewish Chronicle
‘Designed to tickle young funny bones.’ Glasgow Herald
‘A complete joy to read whatever your age.’ This is Kids’ Stuff
‘The truth is a lemon meringue!’ Friday O’Leary
‘They are brilliant.’ Zoe Ball, Radio 2
Some of the crazy old
townsfolk from Lamonic Bibber
A grove there stands, where Runtus
once did rule
High up above the world, ’mongst leafy bower;
And capering and singing, played the fool
And thus passed many a happy, blissful hour.
But fate may strip a King of all his power
And crown a fool a King in one fell blow;
And ’neath the petals of the fairest flower
Lieth poison in the darkness down below.
So to that grove, wise trav’ller, do not go.
– From A Gentle Pilgrimme’s Gyde to Lamonic Bibber, 1581
Rough translation:
There was once a strange little bloke called Runtus who used to live in the forest. But things aren’t always what they seem – so keep away or it might muck you up.