Bulldog Brown was tough. Very tough. If he told you to nick off, you wouldn’t hang around to ask why. If he punched you – which was often – you’d say, ‘Good hit, Bulldog.’

I didn’t like him. Not at all. Not because he was tough – someone is always going to be the toughest in every school. It was because he picked on the little kids. And I hated that.

It was when Bulldog belted up my brother Robbie that did it. No-one hits my little brother! Except me, of course, but that’s different. I have to put up with him all the time.

Yes, Bulldog was a bully. It was time to teach him a lesson. I asked my mate, Nicholas Rowney, ‘How can we get Bulldog? How can we fix him up so he’ll never hurt anyone again?’

Nick wasn’t too sure but he agreed that something definitely had to be done.

‘The first step,’ said Nick, ‘would be to get the old Underground Cubby Club back together again. We used to be able to fix anything!’

What an excellent idea, I thought. I’m surprised I didn’t think of it myself.

The Underground Cubby Club was a group of eight kids. We built the most excellent underground cubby you could ever imagine. There were secret entrances, secret chambers, secret everything. In fact, I’m really not allowed to tell you too much about it. Gee, we had some fun.

But it all ended when the land on top of the cubby was bulldozed for houses. Once the cubby was gone, somehow the club went too. I sometimes get drips in my eyes when I think about it.

Do you know the thing I remember most? The smell of the dirt. It was almost sweet. Somehow it used to make me excited. Sort of nervous. I suppose it’s because we had so many excellent times.

The other thing I remember best had to do with smell.Yes, you guessed it. Somehow we never got tired of laughing when someone let one go underground. Especially Anne Turnbridge. She’d do these absolute stinkers. And then block the entrance.

So you can imagine how excited we were to get the old gang back together again. We met in Dean Lipton’s shed, which was so dark you could almost imagine we were back in the cubby. And when Anne Turnbridge did this real hummer it was as if nothing had changed at all.

We lit some candles and explained the problem. Good ideas came thick and fast, but none was exactly what we were looking for. Dean suggested we put doggy doos in Bulldog’s sandwich, but Robbie said he wouldn’t know the difference.

Rick said we should climb onto the school roof and drop a brick on his head, but Anne said that would just make Bulldog madder. Anyway, hurting people is what we were trying to stop.

And then the perfect idea came. Robbie thought of it. My brother.

Rob was one of those kids who was a really good thinker. He used to think all the time. And sooner or later he would think of something fantastic.

Although I bash Rob up a fair bit, I really love him. Not that I’d ever tell him that, of course.

Rob’s idea also involved doggy doos, but not in sandwiches.

‘What we have to do,’ said Rob, ‘is make Bulldog feel like a nerd in front of the whole school. You see, when Bulldog hits you it hurts, for sure, but I reckon the worst thing is feeling like a nerd because you’re too scared to hit back. Humiliated, my dad would say.’

‘Let’s stick to nerd,’ said the other kids.

‘So,’ said Rob, ‘if we can make Bulldog feel like we feel, then maybe he won’t like it either.’

Makes sense, thought everyone.

‘This is what we’ll do,’ said Rob. ‘Each morning, we’ll rub just a little bit of doggy doos into Bulldog’s bike seat. Sometimes he wears those favourite shorts of his – you know, the daggy ones – three or four days in a row. By the fourth day, things should be looking fairly ugly and that’s when we’ll get him.’

‘How do you mean?’ asked the other kids.

‘I’ll take care of it,’ said Rob. ‘Wait and see.’

Rob always liked to make us wait and see with his good ideas. It made him excited.

Well, we waited. And waited. For almost a week! But we trusted Rob. And finally the day arrived. It was a hot morning. Really hot. Bulldog arrived wearing his daggy shorts for the fifth day in a row and chucked his bike on the ground. He told Rob to pick it up and put it against the wall for him or he’d punch him out.

‘No worries, Bulldog,’ said Rob. By the smile on Rob’s face I could tell this was the day.

We turned up at morning assembly and then Rob started whispering to the kid in front of him. Soon everyone was whispering. And holding their noses. The sun beat down and the whispering got louder.

‘What’s going on?’ yelled Mr Watson.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Rob, ‘but there’s a terrible smell and I think I know where it’s coming from.’

‘And where might that be?’ asked Mr Watson.

‘From Bulldog, sir,’ said Rob.

‘How dare you!’ shouted Mr Watson.

Kids were busting to laugh but they were too scared of Mr Watson.

‘Stand over there facing the wall!’ he screamed.

And that should have been the end of it, except Mr Watson started to think that maybe he could smell something too. He sniffed and thought and sniffed again.

Finally it got the better of him and he asked Bulldog to turn around. He looked closely then stepped back in disgust.

‘Bulldog, I’m afraid you’ve had an accident,’ said Mr Watson.

Well, you should have heard the laughter. Some kids laughed so much they started rolling on the ground. Even Mr Watson couldn’t help a grin.

Poor Bulldog. He checked his shorts, looked around, checked them again, and then just stood there. And went red. And then dark red and then purple.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so embarrassed as Bulldog did that hot, smelly, excellent morning.

Well, Rob was right. Bulldog never hurt anyone after that. For a while we had the feeling he wanted to, but he was too scared of what Rob might do next.

These days, Bulldog’s not a bad kid. But do you know what? On really hot mornings he checks his bike seat, just in case. I’ve seen him. But I’d never let him know, of course. And you know what else? I check mine too.