Free Mr Mingin by David Walliams

cowped a bucket ower. “Please, tak a seat. Sae did yer Mither and I get intae the newspaper?”
    “Ye’re on the front page. Look it!”
    She held up the paper and he let oot a wee lauch. “Fame at last!”
    “And that’s no aw. We jist had a caw fae the Prime Meenister.”
    “Winston Churchill?”
    “Naw, we’ve got a new yin noo, and he wants you and Mither tae go on this programme cawed Question Time the nicht.”
    “On the televisual boax?
    “The TV? Aye. And I wis thinkin, afore ye go on …” Chloe looked at Mr Mingin wi hope in her een. “It micht be a guid idea if ye had a …”
    “Aye, bairn?”
    “Weel a …”
    “Aye …?”
    “A …” She finally howked up enough courage tae say it, “… bath?”
    Mr Mingin glowered at her suspeeciously for twa-three saiconts.
    “Chloe?” he spiered at last.
    “Aye, Mr Mingin?”
    “I dinnae reek, dae I?”
    Hoo could she answer this? She didnae want tae hurt Mr Mingin’s feelins, but then again it wid be faur easier tae be aroond him if he got tae ken Mr Soap and his sonsie guidwife, Mrs Watter …”
    “Naw, naw, naw, coorse ye dinnae reek,” said Chloe, gowpin the biggest gowp that had even been gowped in the history of gowps.
    “Thank you, ma dear,” said Mr Mingin, seemin awmaist convinced. “Then hoo come people caw me Mr Mingin?”
    In her heid, Chloe heard the lood dramatic music fae Wha Wants tae be a Millionaire ? This could hae been the million poond question. But Chloe had nae ‘50/50’, nae ‘spier the audience’ and no even a ‘phone a freend’ at her disposal. Efter a lang pause, in which ye could hae watched aw three Laird o the Rings films in the special extendit director’s cuts, words sterted tae form in Chloe’s mooth.
    “It’s a joke,” she heard hersel sayin.
    “A joke?” spiered Mr Mingin.
    “Aye, because ye actually smell awfie nice sae awbody caws ye Mr Mingin for a joke.”
    “Really?” His suspeecion seemed tae be dwynin a wee bit.
    “Aye, like cawin a gey wee man ‘Mr Muckle’ or a skinnymalink ‘Fattygus’.”
    “Oh aye, I unnerstaun, maist joco!” keckled Mr Mingin.
    The Duchess keeked at Chloe wi a look that said, Ye had the chaunce tae tell him, but ye didnae. Ye chose tae cairry on leein tae him.
    Hoo dae I ken that the Duchess’s look said aw that? Because there is a braw buik in ma local library cawed Yin Thoosand Duggie Expressions Explained by Professor L. Stane.
    Noo back tae the story.
    “But,” said Chloe, “ye micht like tae hae a bath, weel, jist for fun …”

15
Bath time
    This wis nae ordinar bath time. Chloe realised this had tae be run like a military operation.
    Hoat watter? Check.
    Touels? Check.
    Bubble bath? Check?
    Rubber deuk or similar bath time toy beastie? Check.
    Soap? Wis there enough soap in the hoose? Or in the toun? Or in the haill o Europe, tae mak Mr Mingin clean? He hadnae had a bath since – weel, he said last year, but it micht as weel hae been since dinosaurs daunered aboot the earth.
    Chloe turnt on the taps, rinnin them baith thegither sae the temperature wid be jist richt. If it wis ower hoat or ower cauld it micht frichten Mr Mingin aff baths forever. She poored in some bubble bath, and gied it a swirl. Then she laid oot some neatly fauldit touels, brawly warm fae the airin cupboard, on a cutty stool by the bath. In the cabinet she fund a multi-pack o soaps. It wis aw gaun perfectly accordin tae plan, until …
    “He’s awa!” said Da, pokin his heid aroond the bathroom door.
    “Whit dae ye mean, ‘he’s awa’?” said Chloe.
    “He’s no in the shed, he’s no in the hoose, I cannae see him in the gairden. I dinnae ken whaur he is.”
    “Stert the caur!” said Chloe.
    They sped aff oot o their street. This wis excitin. Da wis drivin faster than usual, although still yin mile an oor less than the speed limit, and Chloe sat in the front seat, which she haurdly ever did. Aw they needit wis some tak-awa doughnuts and coffee, and they