Read The World's Biggest Bogey Online
Authors: Steve Hartley
The World's Biggest Bogey (4 page)
My bottom hurts and I can’t sit down. Please tell me I have broken the record.
Yours sincerely
Danny Baker
PS My football team beat Whelley St Peter’s five–nil on Saturday. We’ve won the league! We’ve also got the
Penleydale Cup Final coming up. I’m the goalkeeper.
PPS My dad is Bobby Baker. He’s got a certificate from you, for being the Best Goalkeeper in the World Ever.
Dear Danny
207 spots on one bottom is a fantastic attempt. However, I’m afraid your bottom is not a world-beater. The Spottiest Bottom in the World
belongs to Thelma McCurdie of Kissimmee, Florida, USA. On 4 December 1993, a doctor appointed by the Great Big Book of World Records counted 11,319 spots on her bottom. Thelma also holds the record
for the Biggest Bottom in the world. She has a bottom that an elephant would be proud to own, measuring a humongous 622 cm in diameter. I have included a photograph so that you know what you are up
against.
I hope you can sit down now. If not, why don’t you try to break one of the silliest world records in the Great Big Book, and one of my
favourites: Leaning Casually Against a Goalpost While Dressed as a Ponsonby Pork Pie (two years, five months, sixteen days, nine hours, five minutes, and fifty–nine seconds)?
Congratulations on winning the league and good luck in the Cup Final, Danny. You must be very proud to be the son of Bobby Baker. He was a great
player.
Best wishes
Eric Bibby
Keeper of the Records
Danny and Matthew sat on the kerb outside Danny’s house, reading Mr Bibby’s letter.
‘You can’t try for the Leaning Casually Against a Goalpost While Dressed as a Ponsonby Pork Pie world record,’ complained Matthew. ‘You wouldn’t be able to dive
on the ground to save a shot, and we’d lose every match.’
Danny sighed. ‘I know. It’s tempting though.’
‘You can’t, Danny,’ pleaded Matthew. ‘At least, don’t attempt it next Saturday – it’s the Cup Final and Hogton Growlers are a really good
side.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Danny. ‘I want to win the Cup as much as anyone.’
At that moment, he saw his sister heading towards them, and she didn’t look happy.
‘You’re fish food, Matthew Mason!’ shrieked Natalie. She stormed down the street, her face as red as a ripe tomato with sunburn. ‘I’ve got two-weeks’
detention because of you!’
Matthew looked puzzled. ‘Did I get your maths homework wrong?’
‘No, you dope!’ yelled Natalie. ‘You got it right!’
‘Er . . . that’s good, isn’t it?’ suggested Matthew.
‘No, it’s not!’ shouted Natalie. ‘It was
too
right. My maths teacher knew I hadn’t done it! Next time you do my homework, get a couple wrong!’ She
stomped into the house and slammed the front door shut.
Danny looked like he had just got the best birthday present ever.
Matthew looked like a bad smell had just gone up his nose.
It
had.
He sniffed the air. ‘Can you smell gas?’ he asked.
‘Can
you
?’ asked Danny.
‘Yeah. I can smell something really rotten, like boiled cabbage and seaweed and eggs and cheese and drains all mixed together.’
Matthew looked around him, trying to find where the awful pong was coming from. His gaze stopped at Danny’s feet.
‘It can’t be,’ he said.
‘It is!’ said Danny. ‘They’re ready!’
‘When are you going to let them out?’ ‘On Monday in assembly. Take my advice: put a peg on your nose.’
