The World of David Walliams: 7 Book Collection. David Walliams
guitar with the Serpents of Doom,” said Chloe.
Dad looked startled. “Who told you I was in a band?”
“I saw your CD and I asked Mother, but she—”
“Shh!” said Dad. “Keep it down. Wait…where did you see this CD?”
“Er…I was…um…looking for my old hamster cage in the shed and it was in a box with a load of old junk. There was a burnt guitar with it.”
Dad opened his mouth to say something, but just at that moment, a door slammed upstairs.
“Come along, Chloe!” boomed Mother.
“Promise you won’t say anything about me losing my job,” whispered Dad.
“I promise.”
Chloe shut the door, leaving her dad on all fours in the darkness. Now she had two fully grown men hiding around the house. What’s next? she thought. Am I going to find Grandad in the tumble dryer?!
Being on the political campaign trail meant Chloe knocking on what seemed like everybody’s front door in the town and Mother asking people if she could “rely on their vote”. Those who said they were going to vote for Mother were instantly rewarded with a big smile and an even bigger sticker to put in their window proclaiming ‘Vote Crumb’. Those who said they weren’t voting for her were going to miss an awful lot of daytime telly. Mother was the kind of person who wouldn’t give up without a fight.
They passed the newsagent’s shop. “I wonder if Raj would put one of my posters up in his window,” said Mother, as she strode towards the store. Chloe clomped behind in her uncomfortable Sunday-best shoes, struggling to keep up. Her mind had been elsewhere all day. Now she was carrying around two hot-air balloon-sized secrets in her head—Mr Stink hiding in the garden shed and her dad hiding in the cupboard under the stairs!
“Ah, my two favourite customers!” exclaimed Raj as they entered the shop. “The beautiful Mrs Crumb and her charming daughter, Chloe!”
“It’s Croooome!” corrected Mother. “So, Raj, can I rely on your vote?”
“Are you on The X-Factor?!” said Raj excitedly. “Yes, yes, of course I will vote for you. What are you singing on Saturday?”
“No, she’s not doing The X-Factor, Raj,” interjected Chloe, trying not to laugh at the thought.
“Britain’s Got Talent perhaps? You are maybe doing a ventriloquist act with a naughty otter puppet called Jeremy? That would be most amusing!”
“No, she’s not doing Britain’s Got Talent either.” Chloe smirked.
“How do you solve any dream will I’d do anything or whatever it’s called with Graham thingy?”
“It’s the election, Raj,” interrupted Mother. “You know, the local election? I am standing to be our local MP.”
“And when is this election thing happening then?”
“Next Friday. I can’t believe you’ve missed it! It’s all over these newspapers, Raj!” Mother gestured at the piles and piles of newspapers in the shop.
“Oh, I only read Nuts and Zoo,” said Raj. “I get all the news I need from them.”
Mother looked at him disapprovingly, even though Chloe suspected she wasn’t sure what either Nuts or Zoo were. Chloe had once seen a copy of Nuts that one of the older boys had brought into school, and knew it was rude.
“What do you think are the important issues facing Britain today, Raj?” asked Mother, delighted with the cleverocity and inteligentness of her own question.
Raj pondered for a moment, then shouted over at some boys who were loitering by the pick ‘n’ mix. “Don’t put the liquorice in your mouth unless you are going to buy it, young man! Oh dear, I will have to put that liquorice on special offer now!”
Raj grabbed a pen and a piece of card. He wrote ‘slightly chewed’, and put it on the liquorice box. “Sorry, what was the question again?”
Note to self, thought Chloe. Never buy liquorice from this shop again.
“Erm…Now where was I?” said Mother to Raj. “Ah yes, what do you think are the most—?”
“—important issues affecting Britain today, Raj?” chimed in Raj. “Oh, I didn’t need to say ‘Raj’. I am Raj. Well, I think it would be a great advance if Cadbury’s Creme Eggs were available not just at Easter but all year round. They are one of my most popular items. I also strongly believe that Quavers should diversify from cheese flavours to incorporate Asian Chicken and Lamb Rogan Josh varieties. And most importantly, and I know this may be controversial, but I think that coffee Revels should be banned as they spoil an otherwise wonderfully enjoyable confectionery. There, I’ve said it!”
“Right,” said Mother.
“And if you promise to change the government policy on those issues you can rely on my vote, Mrs Crumb!”
Mother had had a mixed response to her campaigning so far, and was eager to secure this potentially crucial vote.
“Yes, I will certainly try, Raj!” she said.
“Thank you so much,” said Raj. “Please help yourself to something from the shop.”
“No, I couldn’t possibly, Raj!”
“Please, Mrs Crumb. Have a nice box of Terry’s All Gold, I have only taken out the caramel squares. Mmm, they are delicious. And perhaps Chloe would like this Finger of Fudge? It’s a bit squashed as my wife sat on it, but it’s perfectly fine to eat.”
“We couldn’t possibly accept these kind gifts, Raj,” said Mother.
“Well, why not buy them then? One box of Terry’s All Gold, £4.29, and a Finger of Fudge, 20p. That’s £4.49. Let’s call it £4.50. Easier if I just take £5. Thank you so much.”
Chloe and Mother exited the shop holding their confectionery. Mother held her partially eaten box of chocolates with barely disguised disdain.
“Now, don’t forget, Raj. The election is next Friday!” said Mother as she opened the door.
“Oh, I can’t do next Friday, Mrs Crumb. I have to stay here as I am expecting a large shipment of Smarties! But good luck to you!”
“Ah…Thank you,” replied Mother, looking crestfallen.
“Mrs Crumb,” said Raj. “May I interest you in something incredibly special that will certainly become something of a family heirloom to be passed down through the generations? Something your grandchildren will one day take proudly to have valued on The Antiques Road Show?”
“Yes?” said Mother expectantly.
“It’s a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles stationery set…”
“What are you hiding in the shed?” said Annabelle with accusatory glee.
It was midnight and Chloe was once again tiptoeing past her sister’s room, this time to tell Mr Stink about Lily’s newest adventure with her flesh-eating zombie teachers. Annabelle stood in her doorway in her pink pony pyjamas. Her hair was in bunches. And in case of fire she slept in lip-gloss. She looked sickeningly cute.
“Nothing,”