Mr Bambuckle’s first day at Blue Valley School was a most remarkable day. The fifteen students of room 12B straggled in after the bell to find their new teacher balancing on a unicycle, on top of his desk. He was singing in full voice about ‘glorious days’ and ‘magical ways’ and, as the students took their seats, he told them it was a rare Mongolian welcome song.

The students looked at him in wonder and delight – and a little trepidation. He was clearly going to be far more exciting than the class’s previous teacher, Miss Schlump, who had fallen in love with a helicopter pilot and moved to Switzerland. In fact, the students would soon find out that Mr Bambuckle was the sort of teacher they had only ever dreamed of – young, funny, clever, handsome, full of surprises, and in all ways mysterious.

Mr Bambuckle was dressed in a dazzling blue suit, which sparkled nearly as brightly as his mischievous green eyes. Draped tastefully around his neck was a woollen scarf that looked so soft the students longed to touch it. He had dark hair, and his caramel tan suggested he had spent a great deal of time outdoors. Either that or he was from a distant overseas country. The students couldn’t work out which. But they could work out they liked him from the get-go.

‘Hey, new teacher – what’s your name?’ said Vex Vron, a boy never lacking in confidence but always lacking in manners. Vex had a strong reputation for being a troublemaker, and he wasn’t going to allow good feelings about a new teacher to spoil the fact.

Mr Bambuckle stepped down from the desk and placed his unicycle in the corner of the room. He flicked his wrists and produced an egg and two rashers of bacon – seemingly from midair – and started cooking them in a frying pan, which was apparently self-heating. Sizzles and pops soon filled the air.

‘You got a name or what?’ said Vex.

‘Good morning, Vex Vron. I’m delighted to meet you,’ said Mr Bambuckle. His voice was crisp, and it danced with the rhythm of a favourite song.

Vex frowned, his eyes turning as dark as his black hair. ‘What …? How did you know my name?’

‘That’s an excellent question, Vex. I can tell we are going to get on splendidly.’

‘Bet you don’t know my middle name.’

The class sat forward, eager to hear any insight the new teacher might have.

Mr Bambuckle turned a piece of bacon in his pan. ‘I do believe, dear Vex, your middle name is … Wilberforce.’

Vex squirmed in his seat, embarrassed his best-kept secret was no longer that. ‘Oh, you do know it.’

‘I know everything,’ said Mr Bambuckle.

Vex clenched his jaw. He couldn’t let this intriguing new teacher get the better of him so early in the game. ‘But what’s your name?’

Mr Bambuckle walked over to a girl sitting near Vex and shook her hand. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, Scarlett Geeves. My name is Mr Bambuckle.’

Scarlett smiled.

And just like that, Mr Bambuckle answered Vex’s question without answering it at all.

‘I suppose you would like to know a bit about your new teacher,’ said Mr Bambuckle. ‘Feel free to ask any questions. Just don’t ask me to show you my Indian spark-maker beetle.’

All fifteen students thrust their hands in the air.

‘Too many questions for politeness,’ said Mr Bambuckle. ‘You’ll have to call out.’

‘Where did you get your unicycle?’

‘Lithuania.’

‘How did you learn to sing like that?’

‘My cousin is an Icelandic rockstar.’

‘Why are you wearing a blue suit?’

‘It’s rather dashing, don’t you think?’

‘May I please have some bacon?’

‘Be my guest.’

‘May I see your Indian spark-maker beetle?’

‘Uh-uh, it’s far too dangerous.’

‘What kind of name is Bambuckle?’

‘What kind of name is Vex Wilberforce Vron?’

The students were in awe. Mr Bambuckle was easily, by far, without doubt, incomparably and unquestionably the most interesting teacher they had ever had.

A sharp knock at the classroom door disrupted the good feeling. It was Mr Sternblast, the school principal, and he was frowning – something the students saw all too often. ‘Bambuckle, I take it you found the classroom.’

Mr Bambuckle swung stylishly around and smiled at Mr Sternblast. ‘Thank you, dear Mr Principal, for your kind concern. Indeed, I have. Though I wasn’t expecting the numbering to go 11, 12, 12B, 14?’

Mr Sternblast went red and coughed. ‘Humph. Yes, well, we can’t have people thinking this room is unlucky. Those incidents were all just … accidents.’

‘Of course,’ said Mr Bambuckle. ‘In any case, I think 12B has a rather lovely ring to it.’

Mr Bambuckle’s Remarkables
is out now!