Barry Loser Hates Half Term. Jim Smith
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Название: Barry Loser Hates Half Term
Автор: Jim Smith
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Учебная литература
Серия: The Barry Loser Series
isbn: 9781780314310
isbn:
Behind the billboard, half a real-life skyscraper was sticking out of the ground. Men in yellow plastic hats were dotted around all over it, hammering planks and eating sandwiches.
‘Blooming Donald Cox,’ grumbled my dad, pressing the back-massage button on the side of his seat, and the whole thing started to vibrate.
‘You can’t go five metres without seeing his face these days,’ he said, and he turned left down Bunky’s road, which everyone knows is the shortest short cut to Mogden Pier.
I pressed my nose up against the car window and spotted Bunky standing outside his house talking to Nancy and her dad, Mr Verkenwerken. Which didn’t surprise me, seeing as they’re next-door neighbours.
‘DONALD COX!’ I boomed, waving at Bunky. I’ve started calling Bunky ‘Donald Cox’ sometimes, by the way, because it makes him wee his pants with laughter.
Bunky carried on standing there, chatting to Nancy and Mr Verkenwerken and not weeing his pants at all, and I realised I hadn’t wound my window down.
I wound my window down and took a deep breath. ‘DONALD COX!’ I boomed again, and Bunky and Nancy jumped.
‘DONALD COX!’ boomed Bunky back, because he’s started calling me ‘Donald Cox’ too.
‘Help me, Donald - my dad’s kidnapped me!’ I shouted, imagining I was Future Ratboy, and I’d been captured by his number one enemy, Mr X, and locked up in the back of Mr X’s giant metal scorpion.
‘He’s sending me to Pirate Camp, Donald!’ I screamed, pounding my fists against the air, miming like I hadn’t wound the window down at all. ‘Meet me at Mogden Pier!’ I wailed, and I wound the window up again and went back to comperleeterly unenjoying my half term.
‘Ferry leaves in four minutes,’ said my dad, screeching to a halt next to Mogden Pier, and I sat in my seat wondering why my dad always says everything’s gonna be FOUR minutes, and not three, or five.
‘Maybe it’s because he’s got FOUR fingers,’ I mumbled to myself, as my dad undid his seatbelt. ‘Maybe if he had seventeen fingers, everything would take SEVENTEEN minutes instead!’
I think I was just trying to put off getting out of the car.
My dad walked round to Desmond’s door and lifted him out, careful not to make his back go snap again. ‘Come on, Barry, out you pop too,’ he chirped, trying not to sound like a horrible dad who was sending his number one son off to a prison camp on an island in the middle of a lake with none of his friends for the whole of half term.
I slid myself out of the car and collapsed in a heap of Barryness on the tarmac.
‘Pleeease don’t make me go to Pirate Camp!’ I cried, as a little girl from about three million years below me at school walked past with her mum on the way to the ferry, giggling at my loserosity.
‘Sorry, Barry,’ said my dad, holding Desmond’s bum up to his nostrils, checking if he’d done another poo. ‘Maybe when your Great Aunt Mildred’s nose shrinks back to normal and your mum comes home we can have another think.’
The tarmac rumbled and Bunky and Nancy skidded their bikes to a stop and jumped off, panting from cycling all the way to Mogden Pier in less time than it takes to say this sentence.
‘What in the name of unkeelness is going on here?’ said Bunky, and I explained to him and Nancy how my dad was sending me to Pirate Camp because we’d been jumping up and down on my mum and dad’s bed the day before.
‘. . . so really it’s kind of you two’s fault as well,’ I said, getting up from the tarmac and heaving my rucksack out of the boot. My orange tent was strapped to the bottom, with the word ‘LOSER’ written on it in big black capitals.
‘But Pirate Camp is for kiddywinkles!’ said Bunky, and my dad was just about to open his mouth and say his thing about how that meant I’d fit in there just perfectly, when I spotted the tip of Darren Darrenofski’s nose.
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