For 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 watch the 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 because they’re younger than me.
Sing, Wiggle and Shine is for unfamous people who want to be famous. 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 people had 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 how poorly 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!
‘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.
‘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 telly switched channel.
Evil big brother James had sneaked into the living room, grabbed the remote control and then plonked himself in the armchair.
‘Turn that back!’ I shouted.
‘No way,’ he said. ‘The football’s on in five minutes.’
‘But they’re just about to announce the winner.’
‘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.
‘Please James, turn it back. PLEASE!’
‘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 big brothers? 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.
‘Don’t tell me,’ said Dad. ‘I know, I heard.’
‘Then make him give the remote back,’ I said.
‘James!’ Dad shouted. ‘Let her see the results, then you can turn it back.’
I could hear the TV saying what fun it is to have car insurance.
‘He’s not turning it over Dad,’ I said. ‘It’ll be too late now.’
‘JAMES. Turn it over.’
But the TV just went on to talk about a sort of shampoo that makes men give flowers to ladies.
‘JAMES,’ shouted Dad. ‘You can watch football in two minutes IF Agatha can watch her programme NOW. Otherwise I’ll empty my ELECTRIC SHAVER out all over your pillow and you’ll scratch yourself to DEATH in your sleep tonight. And I mean it.’
The TV went off then James shouted through from the living room, ‘Here then you BIG BABY.’ Without looking he hurled the remote in through the kitchen door.
OW! It cracked me right on the head.
Dad was so busy admiring how shiny the mixing bowl was that he didn’t see what happened and so I didn’t bother telling him. He’d only have come up with one of his silly made-up punishments. And besides, I knew I’d missed the end of the programme.
Thunk thunk thunk . . . creak . . . SLAM!
James had run upstairs and shut himself in his bedroom. How pathetic. He should have known that he can run but he can’t hide from Agatha. He knew that he’d been a bully with the remote and therefore he was going to suffer. Oh yes he was indeed. Sounds of dramatic music: Dah-dah-dahhhhh!
(Read that last bit again out loud. Oh go on, don’t be a wimp, you know you want to. This is the bit I mean:
Sounds of dramatic music: Dah-dah-dahhhhh!
If you’re in your classroom having quiet reading time and you just did that nice and LOUD then you’re awesome. Wahoo! Right, on with the next chapter, although the time has only moved forwards by about twenty seconds . . .)
