The Great Big Book
of World Records
London

Dear Danny

If the Big Freeze lasts for as long as the weather forecasters say it will, you and Matthew should certainly have enough time to break the Single-location Team-snowman-building world record! However, you’re going to have to work hard.

In 1988, Merrick Moth of Newbiggin-by-the-Sea, formed ‘The Snowdrops’, a group of friends who loved all things chilly. In November that year, the group made 445 individual snowmen in the Norwegian town of Lillehammer. Their creations were nothing like the wonderful sculptures you and Matthew have produced in Penleydale, but they broke the record.

In 1991, The Snowdrops fell out over which flavour of ice-lolly was best. The group split up, and Merrick Moth set off alone to tackle the record for High-altitude Single-handed Snowman Building. He built a snowman on top of the ten highest mountains in the world, finishing his amazing feat by constructing one on the peak of Mount Everest.

However, when Merrick stuck the carrot in the snowman’s face to make the nose, he pushed too hard and the head fell off. It rolled down the long steep slopes gathering speed and snow, getting bigger and bigger by the second. It bowled into Base Camp at the same time as Sherpa Ninezing, who had just discovered the lair of the legendary Yeti, otherwise known as the ‘Abominable Snowman’. Sadly, the humongous snowball rolled over poor Sherpa Ninezing, flattening him like a pancake before he could reveal the location to anyone else.

Although Merrick Moth never intended to break this record, the snowball he started when he accidentally knocked his snowman’s head off was the biggest ever recorded, with a circumference of 103.68 m. Because of the cold and high altitude in the Himalayas, the snowball will never melt and remains at Base Camp for all time as a unique memorial to poor Sherpa Ninezing.

Good luck with your attempt, Danny, and don’t worry – your snowy secret’s safe with me!

Best wishes

Eric Bibby

Keeper of the Records

‘How’s Nat the Niff?’ asked Matthew as one of Natalie’s booming belches burst from her room next door.

‘Still stinky,’ replied Danny. ‘Dad’s hung strings of garlic around her bedroom and left lumps of runny green cheese all over the house to try and cover the whiff. But it doesn’t work now she’s letting rip with those mega-pongy burps as well. And her chin’s started wagging like a jelly on a spring. She’s not happy!’

Just then, Dad came upstairs and popped his head round Danny’s bedroom door.

‘There’s been a terrible accident on the High Street,’ he announced. ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs have been run over at the bus stop – they’re splattered!’

‘What?’ said Danny.

‘It’s true,’ continued Dad. ‘And the snow-bunny outside the greengrocer’s has had his ears cut off and his carrot pinched!’

The boys stared at each other.

‘Let’s go and investigate!’ said Danny.

On their way into town, the boys passed through Penley Park.

Matthew gasped. ‘Look!’ he cried. ‘Our parrot’s been pulverized and our budgie’s been battered!’

Sure enough, the two huge snow-birds they had built perched on the swings in the playground were now just crumpled heaps of snow.

Matthew hurried over to check the crocodile they had made hiding by the DANGER! sign on the railings around the pond. ‘The crocodile’s been crunched!’

Danny clomped over to the see-saw, where they had left a snow-hamster and a snow-hippo riding happily. ‘Our hamster’s been hammered!’ he said. ‘And what’s this?’

In the pile of snow that used to be the hippo was a small rectangular card. It was impaled there with an icicle, and on it was written in black, spidery handwriting:

‘STOP THIS NOW OR THE DUCKS GET IT!’

They tramped over to the bandstand, where Matthew had built a mother duck being followed by a row of ten tiny baby ducks.

‘My ducklings have been destroyed!’ he groaned, picking up a second notice, covered in the same squiggly writing. The sign had been jabbed into one of the trampled sculptures:

‘THE DUCKS GOT IT ANYWAY!’

Just then, Danny noticed two straight lines cutting through the snow, going from one bashed snow-model to another.

‘Look!’ he said, pointing at the marks. ‘Ski tracks! And they’re heading into town! Let’s check out the High Street.’

It was just as Dad had described. A small crowd had gathered to look at the flattened remains of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Another message had been scratched into the ice covering the window of Bewley’s Bakery:

‘DON’T BE DOPEY!
YOU’RE MAKING ME GRUMPY!’

‘Our snowmen have been squished,’ said Matthew. ‘What’ll we do?’

‘We’ll rebuild them all tomorrow!’ whispered Danny. ‘This is a job for the Abominable Snowboys!’