Читать книгу Little Wolf’s Postbag - Ian Whybrow, Tony Ross - Страница 5

Dear Mr Little Wolf,

We have not met before, harrumph, but I feel I must write to you. At Wolf Weekly we keep getting letters from readers with problems, dash it. I am far too lupine and snappish to write back, but I have reason to believe that you are just the brute beast for the job. Sit up straight and read on, then you will find out why.

This morning, a very small wolfcub entered my office wearing a mask. He had a water pistol and informed me that he would make the papers on my desk all crinkly unless I gave him a toffee apple. Grrrumph.

This small wolfcub was wearing his sailor suit inside out, so it was a simple matter to read the name-tag on it. The name was one I think you know well: Smellybreff, your little brother. Pest! (Temper, you see. Snappishness. Can’t help it.)

When I spoke to the small beast by his name, I suggested something that his parents might do if they found out that his hobby was being a highwayman. The result was that he howled his head off, threw himself on his back and had a noisy tantrum. He claimed (while damaging my office floor with his head and heels) that it was all your fault. He claims (I quote): ‘Little is always making me be a robber plus post his letters all the time. He says if I don’t, he will put sauce on my ted and eat him, then make me have a bath’. And to prove it, he pulled out a wet and somewhat chewed envelope from his pocket.

Thanks to Smellybreff’s dribble, the gum on the envelope had lost its grip. My curiosity was aroused and I was unable to resist opening the letter and reading it.

Drat and snap, now I feel too niggled and biggled to carry on with this. I think I had better go and shout at my secretary, then I shall feel better.

Yours suddenly,

Peevish Wolfson the 3rd (Ed)

Bah! Are you still there Little Wolf?

Where was I? Ah yes. Look, I hate praising, but bite me black and blue if that letter of yours wasn’t a masterpiece! It was one you wrote to your parents who have their lair near the River Rover in Murkshire. You asked them to come and take your baby brother back, though not in so many words. You suggested that if they have their ‘darling little baby pet’ tucked up with them this winter, they will save loads of cash on hot water bottles. I must admit that was brilliantly put. Crunch and gnash it! Sadly, however, to judge by my brief meeting with the ghastly Smellybreff, I suspect that they still prefer you to look after him.

You went on to mention in your letter that Smellybreff is in the habit of stealing your stamp collection and sticking it all over himself.

You tell your parents, ‘It might be a good idea if you posted him to a nice far-off bunnyburger restaurant. There, he could be much happier everafter than staying with me in a big draughty old house in Frettnin Forest.’ Another very nice try. It showed imagination and – more importantly – craftiness!

Most of Wolf Weekly’s readers are just as spoilt, sad and hopeless as your brother, grrrumph. They are always writing to the magazine with their problems. Nitwits! So I need an Agony Aunt who can write back with crafty and cunning ways to keep the moaners happy.

Hurry and let me know if you will take the job for a large salary.

I am, young sir, reluctantly yours,

Peevish Wolfson the 3rd (Ed)

Dear Yeller,

You are a very funny tricker. Go on, that was you just saying you are Mister Editor of Wolf Weekly saying have a job. Go on, own up! You nearly made me fall for it 2, because the writing was all posh, not like your normal loud and hilly words.

But I knew it was you at the end part, when you said have a large celery. Because you know I like crunchy snacks, but you did the spelling wrong, har har!

So go on, own up, who helped you?

Was it Stubbs, or Normus maybe?

Yours gotyoubackly,

Littly

PS What did you think of my frog-in-the-box? Did you like him jumping out and going squirt with pond water in your eye? Good eh? I trained him spesh for that.

MY ROOM YORE OWSE FRETTNIN FORIST BEESTYSHEAR

DEAR LBW,

TA A LOT FOR THE FROGGY, YUM YUM, TASTY. BY THE WAY WHAT JOB? ALSO, WHAT IS AN EDITOR, DO YOU MEAN HEAD HITTER?