Danny Baker Record Breaker (5): The World's Itchiest Pants (2 page)

‘I feel terrible,’ she grumbled, and blew a long noisy
Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnk!
into a handkerchief.

Dad swallowed the mouthful of breakfast cereal he was chewing, and sniffed. ‘What’s that smell?’ he asked.

Mum lifted Joey’s bottom up to her face and sniffed his nappy. She shook her head, then glanced at Danny’s feet. ‘Are you trying to break the world record for the stinkiest
feet again?’

‘No, I’m not!’ protested Danny, sniffing the air in the kitchen. ‘Besides, when I tried to break
that
record, my feet smelt a bit like boiled cabbage and seaweed
and eggs and cheese and drains all mixed together. This pong’s
completely
different. It’s more like cat pee . . .’

‘And sour milk . . .’ said Dad.

‘And the elephant house at Walchester Zoo,’ said Mum.

Danny followed his nose around the kitchen to find out where the smell was coming from, and it led him straight to his sister. ‘It’s Natalie Snotalie!
She’s
the
smell!’

‘I am not!’ she cried.

‘You are!’ said Mum, Dad and Matthew as they sniffed Natalie too.

‘You’ve got Skunk Flu!’ exclaimed Mum.

‘Nooooooo!’ wailed Natalie.

‘They said on the news that it was spreading north,’ said Dad. ‘We’ll have to let the doctor know and keep you indoors in case you give it to anyone else.’

‘You have all the luck, Nats,’ said Danny. ‘I’d have to go without a bath for
months
to get as whiffy as you!’

As usual, Natalie made a grab to pull Danny’s ears off. She stopped when something caught her eye through the kitchen window as Dad opened the curtains.

‘Mum!’ she whined. ‘Tell him!’

Mum and Dad followed her gaze into the back garden and began to laugh. There was a snowman family sitting on the wooden bench beneath the white-topped branches of the cherry tree.

A big snow-Dad, with huge goalkeeper’s gloves, sat in the centre of the group.

A smaller snow-Mum snuggled up to him, carrying a little snow-Joey.

On one end of the bench was a snow-Danny, wearing a Walchester United scarf and a naughty grin made of stones.

On the other end was a snow-Natalie, with something long and green dangling from her red tomato nose.

Danny and Matthew shrugged and tried to look innocent.

Natalie blew her nose again. ‘Mum!
Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnk!
Tell them!’

‘I’m telling you, boys,’ said Mum, spraying the kitchen with rose-scented air freshener. ‘There’s nowhere near enough gunge coming out of that snow-Natalie’s
nose!’

Dear Mr Bibby

Guess what? My sister Natalie’s got Skunk Flu! She’s the first person in Penleydale to catch it. Word soon got round, and now everyone’s been told not to go
out for the next two weeks to stop it spreading.

Nat had to go to the doctor today for tests, but the snow was so deep around the house that Dad couldn’t get the car out. Then I had an idea for a record attempt –
Carrying a Sister Piggyback Through the Snow! I carried her to the doctor’s using my snowshoes. Later on, I carried her back home again. Matt measured the distance and, in total, I lugged her
for 5.62 km.

Natalie sneezed all over me twenty-seven times on the way there and thirty-one times on the way back. I ended up covered in Skunk-flu snot-droplets, but I don’t mind,
because I want to catch it too! I’ve got a great plan. I’m going to offer to do jobs for her while she’s ill and smelly, and stick as close to her as I can for as long as I can.
Matthew says that’ll be worse than having the flu! I don’t care – Nat might be the first to have it, but I bet I’ll be the stinkiest!

Did I carry my sister for a record-breaking distance? If not, I’ll take her the long way round past the gasworks next time.

Best wishes

Danny Baker

The Great Big Book
of World Records
London

Dear Danny

It was a great attempt at Snowbound-sister Carrying (Piggyback), but you’ll have to go on a very big detour to the doctors if you are going to beat the current record of
53.67 km, held by Ferris Rose of Jerry’s Nose, Newfoundland, Canada. His sister Doris didn’t know she was taking part in a record attempt either. She thought Ferris was taking her to
the greengrocer’s to buy a turnip. She reportedly spent the last 10 km of the carry beating her brother over the head with her wooden leg.

I should warn you that it is extremely difficult to catch Skunk Flu, but if you do, the symptoms can be nasty. There are three distinct phases to the illness:

Phase 1: Explosive Sneezing and Pungent Body Odour (smelly sweat)

Phase 2: Sonorous and Malodorous Belching (loud and smelly burps)

Phase 3: Continuous Jaw Motion and Excessive Saliva Production (uncontrollable chinwagging and dribbling)

Although there are world records to be broken for each Skunk Flu Phase, if I were you I’d wear a mask and stay well away from your sister!

Best wishes

Eric Bibby

Keeper of the Records

Danny and Matthew spent all morning making snowmen in the deserted school playground. They had raided the school’s overflowing big green wheelie bins and found an
assortment of grubby items to add to their sculptures. They stood back to admire their work:

A model of their headteacher, Mr ‘Beaky’ Rogers, waited by the school gates, a bright orange traffic-cone nose sticking out from his face, below two black, soggy-tea-bag eyes.
Nearby, at the crossing outside school, Mr Flutey the lollipop man had been built, his snowy arm outstretched, holding a half-chewed tutti-frutti-flavoured lollipop in his hand.

‘Someone’s coming!’ hissed Matthew. ‘It’s Creepy Cripps!’

The boys scurried behind the wheelie bins. Scrunching footsteps came towards them and then stopped. They heard Mr Cripps’s familiar rasping cough as the caretaker studied the snowman of
‘Beaky’ Rogers. ‘Someone’ll be in trouble over this,’ he wheezed.

Danny and Matthew waited quietly until Creepy Cripps had gone on his rounds, then they made a dash for the gates.

‘That was close,’ said Danny. ‘We’d get detention for a squigga-squillion years if he’d caught us!’

The streets of Penleydale were empty. People had heeded the Skunk Flu Alert and were staying indoors. Great drifts of snow piled up against houses, smothering the roads and gardens. Huge flakes
continued to swirl from the grey sky, adding to the thick white mantle. A strange, soft silence had settled over the valley, and the only sound was the scrunch of the boys’ tennis rackets
plunging into the snow.

Danny paused, staring along the deserted road. ‘You know, Matt, what this town needs is people – snowpeople.’