Nanny Piggins and the Rival Ringmaster by R. A. Spratt Read Free Book Online Page B

bathroom she was horrified to see Mr Green shoving the last of her toilet paper recipe into the toilet and reaching for the flush button.
    ‘Don’t touch that flusher!’ screamed Nanny Piggins.
    Mr Green flinched. He hated being confronted by women at any time. But to be confronted by a woman in his very own bathroom was just wrong.
    ‘It’s my house, I’ll do what I like,’ said Mr Green, his finger beginning to depress the button.
    ‘Noooooooooooo!!!’ yelled Nanny Piggins, hurling herself at Mr Green. But it was too late. A pig cannot change the laws of physics. Even though it only took her a split second to leap across the bathroom, slam into Mr Green’s chest and knock him to the floor, his finger had managed to move the few millimetres needed to depress the button even quicker. When Nanny Piggins looked into the toilet bowl it was to see the last square of mascara-scrawled paper spiralling into the S-bend.
    ‘How could you?’ demanded Nanny Piggins, turning on Mr Green.
    ‘I won’t have toilet paper left strewn about my bathroom like the aftermath of some undergraduate prank,’ said Mr Green self-righteously.
    ‘Would you flush the Mona Lisa down the toilet?’ demanded Nanny Piggins. ‘Would you flush the Venus de Milo down the toilet?’
    ‘It would be hard to get a marble statue down a toilet,’ said Derrick. (The children had come running when they heard their nanny start yelling.)
    ‘What are you talking about?’ spluttered Mr Green. ‘That toilet paper wasn’t valuable, was it?’ The idea of losing something of monetary value appalled Mr Green.
    ‘No, it wasn’t valuable,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘It was priceless! It was a work of culinary art of a quality not seen since Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandma Piggins invented the chocolate éclair in 1819!’
    ‘What are you saying?’ asked Mr Green. He found it hard to follow what Nanny Piggins was talking about at the best of times, but it was even more difficult when the nanny was shaking him and banging his head against a towel rack.
    ‘You lost her cake recipe,’ explained Michael.
    Nanny Piggins sat down on the floor and wept.
    ‘This is ridiculous,’ said Mr Green as he stood up and straightened his clothes. ‘All this fuss over a cake recipe.’
    Nanny Piggins looked up. ‘What did you say?’ she whispered.
    Mr Green was afraid. The only thing more alarming than being yelled at and manhandled by his nanny was being whispered at with contained rage.
    ‘Quick, Father,’ urged Samantha. ‘Run!’
    Mr Green did not need to be told twice. He leapt out the door, sprinted down the stairs and crashed out through the front door, running as fast as he could to get away from his house. (Living with Nanny Piggins had actually been good for Mr Green’s health. Running away from her had given him a lot of aerobic exercise.)

    So that is how Nanny Piggins came to be digging a trench in the front garden. She was trying to find the waste pipe from the toilet so she could smash it open and retrieve her recipe before it was swept out into the sewerage system.
    ‘But surely even if you find the toilet paper,’ said Samantha (kindly because she did not want herNanny to fly into another rage), ‘you won’t be able to read it because it will be soaked in water?’
    ‘Not at all. I used waterproof mascara!’ said Nanny Piggins proudly. ‘So if I can unravel the wet wad of paper the recipe should still be clearly written. If not, I shall be going down to the cosmetics factory tomorrow to bite a few shins. Now where’s Boris? Has he got me that jackhammer yet?’
    ‘Here I am,’ said Boris happily, as he entered the front gate and passed the large wrecking tool down to his sister. ‘The men from the building site said you can have it for as long as you like, as long as you promise to make them some more of those scones with jam and cream.’
    ‘Okay,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Ear protection on, everybody. I’m going to