You are wrong. All grannies are bad. Even yours.

  I hoped my granny wasn’t bad. I hoped she didn’t eat earwax.

  65

  THE AFTERNOON

  ‘Is the coalition-building moving forward?’ said Hils.

  That’s the army way of saying, ‘Have you got anyone to join our rebel army yet?’

  I hadn’t got anyone to join our rebel army yet.

  ‘It’s going great,’ I said. ‘Lots of people have already joined our rebel army.’

  ‘Outstanding,’ said Hils.

  ‘How’s the propaganda going?’ I said.

  ‘The propaganda phase of the campaign has ceased. Currently I am focusing on cutting the Stinkly Wrinklys’ lines of supply. I have discovered where they pick up their newspapers in the morning before they deliver them. I get there first and steal them.’

  ‘Why are you doing that?’ I said.

  ‘To turn the public against the Stinkly Wrinklys. If people aren’t getting their newspapers they will get mad at the people who are supposed to be delivering the newspapers. If the public are mad with the Stinkly Wrinklys then they are more likely to support us in our war against them,’ said Hils.

  ‘Starting a war is much more complicated that I thought it would be,’ I said.

  ‘Affirmative.’

  ‘I have to go,’ I said. ‘Lunchtime ends in five minutes and I want to get The Lurker to join our rebel army before double Maths.’

  ‘You don’t like The Lurker.’

  ‘He is a valuable asset,’ I said.

  ‘No, Duncan. I won’t join your stupid rebel army,’ said The Lurker.

  ‘I don’t care if you don’t join,’ I said.

  ‘Then why did you ask me?’ said The Lurker.

  ‘I didn’t ask you.’

  ‘Yes you did, Duncan. You asked me five seconds ago.’

  ‘You must have imagined it because of how much you wanted me to ask you,’ I said.

  ‘I didn’t want you to ask me to join your dumb rebel army.’

  ‘Lucky I didn’t ask you then,’ I said.

  ‘You did ask me, Duncan.’

  ‘No I didn’t. I asked you if you’d like some biscuits. Some poisoned biscuits,’ I said.

  ‘Joke’s on you, Duncan, because if you had some poisoned biscuits, I’d eat those poisoned biscuits.’

  ‘Joke’s actually on you because if you ate the poisoned biscuits you’d die,’ I said.

  ‘Joke’s really, actually on you because I might be dead but you’d have no biscuits,’ said The Lurker.

  ‘But you’d be dead.’

  ‘I’d rather be dead than have no biscuits.’

  ‘Then you’re mental.’

  ‘Then you’ll go to jail for murdering me. I double win,’ said The Lurker.

  ‘You can’t double win if you’re dead.’

  ‘Wrong, Duncan,’ said The Lurker. ‘Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.’

  I knew exactly what to say next. I was going to totally get him. I was going to win this argument.

  I went to say it but The Lurker was gone.

  I was starting to worry that I’d never be able to get anyone to join our rebel army.

  66

  THE EVENING

  I was absolutely sure that Mr Norma Michaels and The Us would join our rebel army.

  I found the boring secret tunnel and had been walking along it for ages when I heard a scratching noise.

  That wasn’t meant to happen.

  I kept on walking.

  Suddenly I heard blood-curdling scream.

  That certainly wasn’t meant to happen.

  Oh no. I wasn’t in a boring secret tunnel.

  I was in an exciting secret tunnel.

  I did not want to be in an exciting secret tunnel. I really, very, super did not want to be in an exciting secret tunnel. I had to get out. I started running.

  I stepped in something wet.

  I knew it was blood. Exciting secret tunnels always have blood.

  Something dripped on my head.

  I knew it was more blood. Exciting secret tunnels always have more blood.

  I kept on running.

  I ran past an old bearded man chained to the wall of the tunnel.

  ‘The fox knows little but the owl sees all,’ said the old bearded man.

  I kept running until I came to a place where the tunnel split into two paths.

  Which path should I take?

  ‘This way,’ said a strange little voice.

  I just knew that little voice was coming out of an animal with more heads than it should normally have.

  I looked down. I was right.

  There was a large rat with THREE MORE heads than it should normally have.

  ‘NAUGHTY RAT. Leave this poor young man alone,’ said a voice that sounded exactly like Mr Norma Michaels because it was coming from Mr Norma Michaels. ‘Skedaddle.’

  The animal with three-more-heads-than-it-should-normally-have skedaddled.

  ‘What are you doing here, you young scamp?’ said Mr Norma Michaels.

  ‘I was looking for you,’ I said. ‘You see . . . Hils and I are forming a rebel army to go to war against the Stinkly Wrinklys and we were hoping that you and The Us would join it.’

  ‘ARROGANT. Certainly not and indeed not! The Us are peaceful souls. We will not join your army. We will not go to war!’

  ‘It’s called The Horde,’ I said.

  Mr Norma Michaels fell asleep.

  67

  THE QUARRY

  It was 18:30 hours.

  Hils and I were in Nobby’s Quarry.

  In front of us stood about fifty angry Stinkly Wrinklys flexing their pinching fingers. I saw the LLG cradling a gnashing gnet and Rashid’s Stinkly Bubu brandishing a rock-hard-throwing-hanky.

  (My granny wasn’t with them. That was a relief.)

  So far, nothing had gone according to plan.

  17:30 HOURS

  BEHIND A BUSH AT NOBBY’S QUARRY

  ‘Hils, I’ve got something really, very, super bad to tell you,’ I said.

  ‘I know,’ said Hils.

  ‘I’m sorry. I tried.’

  ‘You are not to blame,’ said Hils.

  ‘Why would no one join our rebel army?’

  ‘They lack intestinal fortitude.’

  That’s the army way of saying, ‘Because they’re scaredy-cats.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ I said.

  ‘Devise another strategy,’ said Hils. ‘We have one hour. The Stinkly Wrinklys will not be here for one hour.’

  ‘Hils,’ I said. ‘The Stinkly Wrinklys have arrived. Early.’

  ‘Affirmative.’

  FIVE MINUTES LATER

  BEHIND A BUSH AT NOBBY’S QUARRY

  ‘Enemy status report,’ said Hils.

  ‘Approximately fifty Stinkly Wrinklys. Heavily armed. Angry.’

  ‘Continue gathering intelligence.’

  FIVE MORE MINUTES LATER

  STILL BEHIND A BUSH AT NOBBY’S QUARRY

  ‘Ready?’ said Hils.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘To go to war.’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  Hils walked out from behind the bush.

  I didn’t follow her.

  Then I followed her.

  ‘ATTENTION STINKLY WRINKLYS,’ said Hils.

  The Stinkly Wrinklys gave Hils their attention.

  ‘WHO IS YOUR CHAMPION?’ said Hils.

  The Skrink stepped forward.

  ‘YOU AND I SHALL FIGHT. ONE-ON-ONE. AGREED?’

  The Skrink nodded.

  ‘THE WINNER OF OUR FIGHT WINS THE WAR. AGREED?’

  The Skrink nodded.

  68

  THE DUEL

  ‘Won’t your taekwondo teacher be angry that you are about to taekwondo fight an old lady?’ I said to Hils as she did all sorts of strangely-peaceful-looking-before-a-taekwondo-fight stretching exercises.

  ‘Negative. There are fives laws of taekwondo,’ said Hils. ‘They are:

  ‘I shall observe the tenets of taekwondo.

  ‘I shall respect the instructors.

  ‘I shall never misuse taekwondo.

  ‘I shall be a champion of freedom and justice.

  ‘I shall build a more peaceful world.’

  ‘Isn’t fighting an old lady breaking the law about not misusing taekwondo?’ I said.

  ‘Perhaps, but by fighting her I am being a champion of freedom and justice and building a more peaceful world. So I’m breaking one law but keeping two.’

  ‘You should definitely fight her then,’ I said. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘There is no such thing as good luck,’ said Hils.

  I think she meant to say ‘thank you’ but was so nervous that she said something completely different.

  Hils and The Skrink walked into the middle of Nobby’s Quarry. They stood face-to-face about a bike’s length apart from each other and bowed.

  69

  THE COMMENTARY

  ‘Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the taekwondo fight of the century. In the camouflage shorts and Little Miss Angry T-shirt is Hils. In the green knitted cardigan with fluffy white sheep all over it is The Skrink. I’m your commentator Charlie “Tinfoil Tonsils” Duncan.

  ‘Hils and The Skrink are both bouncing back and forth like they’re on a trampoline. Have they started fighting? I don’t know anything about taekwondo so I can’t really tell if the fight has even started. Is taekwondo just bouncing? Does the person who can bounce the longest wins? What is this bouncing move called? I don’t know what any taekwondo moves are called. It looks like I’m just going to have to make up my own names for each move.

  ‘Hils and The Skrink are both still bouncing. I’m going to call this move the Boring Bouncy Beginning Bit. Suddenly The Skrink attacks. She catches Hils off guard – with a move that I’ll call the Fluttering Flamingo of Fury kick – and Hils goes down.

  ‘She goes down hard. The Skrink does some more bouncing but Hils isn’t moving. Could the fight be all over already? Hils still isn’t moving. The Skrink stops bouncing and walks slowly over to where Hils is lying unconscious. Or dead. She could be dead. The Skrink has killed Hils. This is terrible. I’ll never get a paper round and Hils is dead. The Skrink bends over to look at Hils. Without warning Hils sweeps with her leg and knocks The Skrink down with a Leg Broom of Doom.

  ‘Hils isn’t dead. Hils is back on her feet and bouncing. The Skrink is up as well and looks like she’s going to attack Hils with a Captain Cook No Look Sook Hook but she’s just faking. The Skrink pulverises an unsuspecting Hils with a 360 Degree Twisting Terror Toe.

  ‘Oh no. Hils goes down again clutching her cheek. The Skrink goes in for the kill with a Knine Knuckled Knose Knobbler but Hils turns the tables with a Fiendishly Fast Face Flattener.

  ‘Now The Skrink is down. Hils tries to finish The Skrink with a Two Foot Long Scone Prong but The Skrink rolls out of the way and smashes Hils with a Full Bore Jaw War. Hils is stunned.

  ‘The Skrink picks Hils up, lifting her over her head like she’s using Hils to practise weightlifting. This is bad. Very bad. It looks like The Skrink is going to crush Hils with a Doorjamb Wham Bam Clam Slam – a move that can be fatal. The Skrink tries to smash Hils to the ground but Hils grabs The Skrink’s arm and executes a perfect Swingy Springy Stingy Thingy. Before The Skrink knows what is happening Hils gets her in an Over The Shoulder Boulder Holder.

  ‘The Skrink is in trouble. Hils performs a perfect Ferris Wheel That Makes You Squeal and The Skrink lands flat on her face. Hils applies a Would You Like Pain With That? hold and finally a Num Bum Stun Thumb.

  ‘The Skrink stays down. She doesn’t move. Hils takes a few steps away and bows to The Skrink. The Skrink doesn’t bow back because she is out cold. The fight is over! Hils has won. Hils has won. She’s won the war. I’m going to get a paper round!

  ‘Thank you for listening to my commentary. Goodnight and goodbye.’

  70

  THE VICTORY

  ‘Hils. You won.’ I said. ‘You won. You beat The Skrink! You finished her of with a Numb Bum Stun Thumb.’

  ‘What is a Numb Bum Stun Thumb?’ said Hils.

  ‘We won the war. I mean, you won the war. I can get a paper round. You are amazing, Hils. We won. You won. We won.’

  I turned back towards the Stinkly Wrinklys.

  ‘You lost,’ I said. ‘I can get a paper round because you lost.’

  ‘Hoo haa,’ shouted all the Stinkly Wrinklys as they raised their pinching fingers in the air.

  ‘Look, Hils, they’re saluting you. That’s really nice of them. They’re admitting you’re the superior warrior.’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘Hoo haa.’

  ‘What are they trying to say then?’ I said.

  Before Hils could answer, a rock-hard-throwing-hanky few just past my right ear.

  ‘Hoo haa.’

  ‘They’re trying to say,’ said Hils, ‘that any minute now they’re going to attack us.’

  ‘Hoo haa.’

  ‘But they agreed that if you won the fight we won the war,’ I said.

  ‘They’re going back on that agreement,’ said Hils.

  ‘That’s not very nice.’

  Another rock-hard-throwing-hanky flew past, narrowly missing my head.

  ‘THAT’S NOT VERY NICE EITHER,’ I said to the Stinkly Wrinklys.

  ‘Hoo haa,’ they shouted back.

  Then they charged.

  I didn’t think old ladies could charge.

  But they can.

  They were fast.

  They were angry.

  They were getting really, very, super close really, very, super fast.

  ‘What are we going to do, Hils?’

  I’m not sure what Hils said because, whatever it was, was drowned out by a horrible noise.

  71

  THE NOISE

  ‘WHAT IS THAT AWFUL NOISE?’ said Hils.

  ‘I DON’T KNOW,’ I said.

  But I did know. I knew because I had heard it before. It was Peter. Playing the bagpipes.

  ‘IT’S PETER,’ I said.

  ‘WHO IS PETER?’ said Hils.

  ‘THAT IS PETER,’ I said, turning around and pointing at Peter as he crested the hill at the end of the quarry. He was playing the bagpipes.

  I was pleased to see Peter but I didn’t think that one Iraqi bagpiper was going to be much help against fifty charging Stinkly Wrinklys.

  ‘HILS. I WAS TOO BUSY LOOKING AT PETER AND I FORGOT THAT THE STINKLY WRINKLYS ARE STILL CHARGING AT US BUT THE STINKLY WRINKLYS ARE STILL CHARGING AT US.’

  I turned and looked at the charging Stinkly Wrinklys.

  Suddenly they stopped charging.

  Why had they stopped charging? Had I stopped them? I did have a moderately angry look on my face. Maybe they’d seen my moderately angry look and had realised that I was not a person to be trifled with and that had made them stop? Yes, I think I had stopped them. I kept staring at the Stinkly Wrinklys with a moderately angry look. They kept not charging. Yes, it was definitely me that had stopped them.

  ‘Look,’ said Hils.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Behind you.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘I’ve stopped the Stinkly Wrinklys with my moderately angry look. If I turn away, they’ll start charging again.’

  ‘Negative. You have not stopped them.’

  I really thought I had.

  ‘I didn’t think I had,’ I said.

  I looked.

  There, behind me, was the real reason the Stinkly Wrinklys had stopped charging.

  72

  THE ARMY

  Coming over the hill – behind bagpiping Peter – was a rebel army.

  Our rebel army.

  Right behind Peter was Warren riding the most amazing bike I had ever seen. Every part of it was gold. It had gold pedals, gold spokes and even gold tyres. The gold handlebars were covered in hundreds of gold rear vision mirrors. The setting sun reflected off it making it look like it was on fire. It must have been the magical bicycle TwelveSpeed.

  Alongside Warren were a whole lot of other really big guys who all looked exactly like Warren. There were also some girls – who also looked exactly like Warren. Each of them rode incredible bikes: one bike had huge green bat wings; another one was really, very, super tiny with three enormous horns poking out the back; there was a tricycle that shot sparks from its back wheels; a bike that had a shopping trolley where the front wheels should have been, and a unicycle that, instead of a seat, had a crow’s nest like on a pirate ship.

  After Warren and his bike warriors came The Lurker (I still didn’t like him but he was a valuable asset) and Simon Bolivar. Behind them was just about every kid from our school apart from Harriet Borges – who was on holiday – and Townes McFarlane – who had head lice.

  And Rashid. I couldn’t see Rashid anywhere.

  ‘VISITORS,’ said Phyllis as she stomped past Mr Norma Michaels and a bunch of strange-looking people who must have been The Us.

  ‘It’s our rebel army,’ I said to Hils. ‘We’ve got a rebel army.’

  ‘Outstanding.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  Hils thought the rebel army I had put together was outstanding. That made me happy. It also gave me the courage to ask her something.

  ‘When I first asked people to join our rebel army everyone said no. Now they have turned up. Why is that?’

  ‘When you ask a person to help you do something hard mostly they will say no,’ said Hils. ‘If they’re a good person, when they say “no” they don’t really mean “no” they mean “I’m a bit shocked you’ve asked me to help you do something really hard. Just give me a minute to think about it and then I will say yes.”’

  ‘That explains it.’

  ‘Affirmative.’

  ‘Hils?’

  ‘Affirmative.’

  ‘Should we charge now? I think we should charge now. Can I yell “Charge!” so that our rebel army knows that they should charge?’