Vile Visitors by Diana Wynne Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

think we should start.”
    The door opened just then and Dad ushered in Chair Person.
    â€œOh no !” said Mum, looking daggers at Dad.

    Chair Person stood, pawing at the air, and looked round the respectable people in a very satisfied way. He had found Dad’s best shiny brown shoes to wear and Simon’s football socks, which looked decidedly odd with his striped suit. The respectable people stared, at the shoes, the socks, the hairy legs above that, at the stain on his striped stomach and then at the smashed-hedgehog beard. Even Auntie Christa stopped talking and looked a little dazed.
    â€œEr, hn hm,” brayed Chair Person twice as loudly as the Vicar. “I am – hn snuffle – Chair Person. How kind of you all to come and – hn hm – meet me. These good people–” He nodded and waved arms at Dad and Mum –“have been honoured to put up with me, but they are only small stupid people who do not matter.”
    The slightly smug smile on Dad’s face vanished at this.
    â€œI shall – hn hm – talk to people who matter,” said Chair Person. He lumbered across the room, bumping into everything he passed. Ladies hastily got coffee cups out of his way. He stopped in front of the Vicar and breathed heavily. “Could I trouble you to move?” he said.
    â€œEh?” said the Vicar. “Er—”
    â€œEr, hn hm, you appear to be sitting in my seat,” said Chair Person. “I am Chair Person. I am the one who shall talk to – hn hm – the Government. I shall be running this meeting.”
    The Vicar got out of the chair as if it had scalded him and backed away. Chair Person sat himself down and looked solemnly round.
    â€œCoffee,” he said. “Er, hn hm, cakes. While the rest of the world starves.”
    Everyone shifted and looked uncomfortably at their cups.
    In the silence, Chair Person looked at Mum. “Hn hm,” he said. “Maybe you have not noticed that you’ve not given me – hn hm – coffee or cakes.”
    â€œIs that what you meant?” said Mum. “I thought that after all the breakfast you ate—”
    â€œI meant – hn hm – that we are here to feast and prove that we at least have enough to eat,” said Chair Person. While Mum was angrily pouring coffee into the cracked cup that was the last one in the cupboard, he turned to the nearest lady. “I decided to grow a beard,” he said, “to show I am – hn hm – important. It makes my face look snuffle grand.”
    The lady stared at him. Auntie Christa said loudly, “We are here to talk about Africa, Mr Chair Person.”
    â€œEr, hn hm,” said Chair Person. “I happen to know a lot about Africa. The Government should act to make sure that the African – hn hm – elephant does not die out.”
    â€œWe were not going to talk about elephants,” the Vicar said faintly.
    â€œThe snuffle gorilla is an endangered animal too,” said Chair Person. “And the herds of – hn hm – wildebeest are not what they were in the days of Dr Livingstone, I presume. Drought afflicts many animals – I appear to have drunk all my coffee – and famine is poised to strike.” And he went on talking, mixing up about six different television programmes as he talked. The Vicar soon gave up trying to interrupt, but Auntie Christa kept trying to talk too. Every time she began, Chair Person went, “ER, HN HM!” so loudly that he drowned her out, and took no notice of anything she said. Marcia could not help thinking that Chair Person must have stood in the living room picking up hints from Auntie Christa for years. Now he was better at not letting other people talk than Auntie Christa was.
    In the meantime, Chair Person kept eating cakes and asking for more coffee. The respectable people, in a dazed sort of way, tried to keep up with Chair Person, which meant that