Free My Brother's Famous Bottom Goes Camping by Jeremy Strong Page A

hens burst out into the pen. They looked upset and rather ruffled. Mum folded her arms.
    ‘I think I know where the twins are,’ shemuttered. ‘Nicholas, you’re just about small enough to get inside. Would you mind rescuing the hens from the clutches of the evil pizza twins?’

    Honestly, I’m always having to rescue something in our house. If it’s not the twins, it’s the hens, and if it’s not the hens it’s my dad! I folded myself up as small as I could and squeezed into the hen house.
    It was pretty gloomy inside but I soon spotted Cheese and Tomato. They were sitting on the birds’ perch. Cheese had his arms firmly wrapped round the last hen and appeared to be introducing the poor creature to his sister’s pet carrot.
    ‘This is Cecily Sprout.’ Cheese looked up and beamed at me. ‘This is my hen, and she says Cecily Sprout can ride on her back.’ Tomato tried to stick the carrot on the hen’s back, but without success – surprise, surprise.
    I groaned. Sometimes I think madness must run in my family. We all get it from Dad, probably. Not only is my whole family crazy, but I hardly dare mention Cheese’s famous bottom. Did you know about that? Cheese has probably got the most famous bottom in the country. When he was one he used to make TV adverts for a nappy company.His bottom has been seen by millions! (But that’s another story!)

    ‘Has your hen got a name?’ I asked him.
    ‘Poop,’ grinned Cheese, pointing at Tomato’s jeans. There was a dirty white-brown smear on one leg. It could only be – you know!
    ‘Poop did that,’ Cheese smiled. ‘She’s a super-dooper-pooper!’ The twins burst into giggles.
    So there we are. Cecily Sprout, the Barbie-carrot, has a new friend – a hen called Poop. As for the other hens, they’re called Mavis Moppet, Beaky and Leaky. So now you’ve met everyone!

2 The Two-legged Tent
    Boy, oh boy! What a rumpus – big time! We’ve had a fox in the garden. It was after the chickens, of course, in the middle of the night. Dad said he reckoned the fox fancied a five-course meal.
    ‘It would have Captain Birdseye for starters, then Chicken Nugget One, then Chicken Nugget Two, then Chick–’
    ‘Yes, Ron,’ Mum cut in. ‘We get the picture. There’s no need to go through the whole menu.’
    ‘Want a chicken nugget!’ demanded Cheese.
    ‘See what you’ve started?’ Mum complained. ‘I knew those hens would be trouble. It’s all your fault.’
    Dad’s eyes boggled. ‘My fault? How come?’
    ‘You got the hens.’
    ‘Yes, because you said you wanted some eggs,’ Dad protested.
    ‘Exactly. I wanted eggs, Ron. I sent you out to get some eggs and you came back with five chickens.’
    ‘So? I got you eggs on a time delay. They’ll be fresher that way – new-laid,’ smiled Dad.
    ‘And how many eggs have they laid so far? None. And now we have a fox. It may not have got any of the hens this time but it will be back. You can be sure of that, and then you can say goodbye to your hens, not to mention all the eggs they haven’t even laid yet.’
    Dad went stomping off wearing a dark frown on his face. It’s best not to talk to him when he gets like that. I knew that frowny face. It didn’t mean he was cross. He was thinking, and he was bound to come up with a plan sooner or later. He always does. My dad’s clever like that.
    Sure enough, he came stomping back an hour later and announced his brilliant plan. He wasplanning to keep guard over the hens all night.
    ‘You can’t stand out there right through the night,’ Mum told him.
    ‘I’ll lie down,’ said Dad.
    ‘You can’t lie down either, Mr Dopey-drawers. Suppose it rains?’
    ‘I shall be safe and snug in my tent,’ Dad said.
    ‘What tent? You haven’t got a tent.’
    ‘Yes, I have. I shall use the twins’ play-tent.’
    Mum burst out laughing. ‘It’s for babies!’ she giggled. ‘It’s too small for you, you… elephant!’

    ‘Isn’t!’ scowled Dad.
    Mum had to go off