Free Agatha Parrot and the Mushroom Boy by Poskitt Kjartan Page A

it? Not thinking about boys being turned into mushrooms? No? Good. Off we go then . . .

The Start
    F or me, seven o’clock on Saturday evenings can only mean one thing . . .
    Sing, Wiggle and Shine!
    It is absolutely the second best programme on the telly.
    Of course I never get to watchthe FIRST BEST programme because that’s
Celebrities at the Dentist
and Mum always comes in and says, ‘I will NOT have you watching that rubbish,’ then she turns it off and sends me upstairs and THEN she puts it straight back on and curls up watching it with a box of chocolates.
    Oh well. When I’m a mum I’m not going to have kids. I’m going to get on with my own life and not go bothering other people just becausethey’re younger than me.

    Sing, Wiggle and Shine
is for unfamous people who want to befamous. I’d watched every show in the series for the whole 26 weeks and at last –
da-daddle-ah-da-da-daaaah
– they’d got to the final! Along the way they’d kicked off about 200 losers including the bloke with the rabbit ears who hopped around singing
Carrots Are a Bunny’s Best Friend,
oh he was just so brilliant I wish they’d do t-shirts of him.
    Anyway, there I was sitting on the sofa and the last three peoplehad just finished singing, wiggling and shining. I really wanted Sophie to win because Lauren had stupid earrings and Darren had his hairy chest showing which is hardly suitable for family viewing is it? It looked like he had a doormat stuffed up his shirt. Yuk . And anyway I felt sorry for Sophie because her shoe flew off in the dancing bit and then she forgot her words, and then she cried when she told everybody howpoorly her hamster was so COME ON SOPHIE. Eeeek . . . it was all too exciting!
    The judges had got together in their very last judges’ huddle. That’s when they all put their heads together and whisper so it’s a good job my friend Ellie’s not a judge as she’s always got nits and they’d all end up scratching ha ha!
    â€˜And now we come to the big exciting moment!’ said Grin Sickly.He’s the presenter whose hair looks like a mouldy cycle helmet. Oh gosh I was so wound up I was biting the sofa cushion. ‘Tonight’s winner will become a huge international star! And to tell us who it is, will you please welcome last year’s winner . . .’
    BIG APPLAUSE.
    â€˜Oh, sorry. He’ll be here in a minute, he’s still locking his bike and changing out of his overalls.’
    CLICK!
That’s when the tellyswitched channel.
    Evil big brother James had sneaked into the living room, grabbed the remote control and then plonked himself in the armchair.
    â€˜Turn that back!’ I shouted.
    â€˜No way,’ he said. ‘The football’s on in five minutes.’
    â€˜But they’re just about to announce the winner.’
    â€˜Tough. You’ve been watching for ages. My turn.’

    Before I knew it, I’d thrown myself at James to get the remote off him but YUK he shoved it under his bottom and sat on it. I tried to drag him off the chair, but he was grabbing on to the arms too tightly.
    â€˜Please James, turn it back. PLEASE! ’
    â€˜No way,’ said James. ‘It’s the adverts. Football’s on straight after the adverts. Besides I like the adverts.’
    You see what I mean about bigbrothers? Evil evil evil. And selfish. The only chance I had was to run into the kitchen to get Dad. He was baking one of his monster cakes for our school fete Guess the Weight of the Cake competition. There was a big baking tin full of sloppy cake mix in the middle of the table, and he was at the sink washing out the mixing bowl.
    â€˜Don’t tell me,’ said Dad. ‘I know, I heard.’
    â€˜Then make him give the remote back,’ I said.
    â€˜James!’ Dad shouted. ‘Let her see the results, then you can turn it back.’
    I could hear the TV saying what fun