The doorbell rings and we go to answer it.
‘Hello,’ says the man at the door. ‘My name is Inspector Bubblewrap. I trust you received my letter.’
‘Well, yes, we did,’ I say, ‘but—’
‘Excellent,’ says the inspector. ‘May I please see your building permit for this treehouse?’
‘Well … yes …’ I say, ‘although when I say yes, I mean no. We don’t actually have one … thanks to Terry.’
‘No permit?’ says the inspector. ‘In that case I’ll have to do an inspection to see if your treehouse conforms to all the current building regulations and safety codes.’
‘Building regulations?’ I say.
‘Safety codes?’ says Terry.
‘It’s a mere formality,’ says the inspector. ‘Now if you’ll just be kind enough to let me in, I’ll get started on my rhyme.’
‘Your rhyme?’ I say.
‘Yes,’ says the inspector.
‘I always do
My reports in rhyme.
It’s fun for me
And helps pass the time.’
‘That’s fine by me.
Please feel free
To see our tree.’
‘Well thank you very much,
Young man.
I’ll do my inspection
As fast as I can.
If I may
I’ll start right here.
Uh-oh—oh my—
Oh no—oh dear.
Should have a railing.
And no wheelchair ramp?
That’s a serious failing!
And where are your fire escapes,
Your hose reels and sprinklers,
Your safety blankets and fire extinguishers?
And I’d very much like to see (if I can)
Your in-case-of-emergency exit plan.
Should be swimming free.
Not kept as pets
In a tank in a tree.
And your bowling alley
Doesn’t have any walls,
Which puts penguins at risk
From falling balls.
Or a ball could fall
On a person’s head
And that poor person
Could end up dead.
Around a track
Could result in injury
To the neck or back.
This X-ray room
Is in direct violation
Of the current health and safety
Radiation regulations.
And what sort of stupid, lame-brained twit
Would build themselves a quicksand pit
And not even have the sense or wit
To put a warning sign on it?
Should have a fence.
(It really is just
Common sense!)
And chainsaw juggling
Is seriously dumb.
You could easily lose
A finger or thumb …
Or an ear or a knee
Or an elbow or nose
Or an arm or a leg
Or a foot or some toes!
Has no net, I see,
And it’s up really high
Near the top of the tree!’
‘But, apart from those few things,’ I say. ‘is everything else in our treehouse okay?’
Inspector Bubblewrap sighs and shakes his head.
‘All things considered,
I’m sorry to say
There’s no way I can issue
A permit today.
This treehouse of yours
Is an unsafe construction
And I must insist
On its total destruction.
Is now on their way,
So you’d better get going;
There’s no way you can stay.
By twelve noon today
This place will be rubble.
If you stay any longer
You’ll be in big trouble.
It will all be knocked down—
Level by level—
Get out while you can.
You remain at your peril!’
‘Yikes,’ says Bill the postman. ‘I’m out of here.’
‘Should we go, too?’ says Terry.
‘No way!’ I say. ‘This is our home!’
‘But it’s going to be demolished!’
‘Not if I can help it,’ I say.
‘But how?’ says Terry.
‘Why don’t we go and ask the three wise owls?’ says Terry.
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘They’re so wise they’ll know exactly what to do.’
We jet-chair up to the owl house on our jet-propelled office chairs and hover in front of the owls.
‘O, wise owls,’ says Terry, ‘what should we do to avoid the total demolition of our treehouse?’
‘TICK!’ says the first wise owl.
‘TOCK!’ says the second wise owl.
‘HOO!’ says the third wise owl.
‘Tick? Tock? Hoo?’ I say. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Hmmm,’ says Terry, frowning and repeating their words. ‘Tick-Tock-Hoo … Tick-Tock-Hoo …’
‘Do you think Tick-Tock means something to do with time?’ I say.
‘Yes!’ says Terry. ‘And Hoo must mean Doctor Who. He’s a time traveller, right?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘but how does that help us?’
‘Don’t you see?’ says Terry. ‘The wise owls are telling us we should travel back in time and get a permit for the treehouse.’
‘That would be a great idea,’ I say, ‘if we had a time machine.’
‘We do!’ says Terry. ‘I’ve built one on the level the Once-upon-a-time machine used to be on.’
‘Fantastic!’ I say. ‘Let’s go.’
We climb up to the time-machine level.
‘So we go in here?’ I say, heading for the door.
‘That’s not the time machine,’ says Terry. ‘That’s an eggtimer I built. I hate it when my eggs get over-boiled. The time machine is over here.’
‘You put it in the bin?’ I say.
‘No,’ says Terry. ‘It is the bin.’
‘But why?’ I say.
‘Well, I was reading The Time Machine by H.G. Wells,’ says Terry, ‘and I thought that time travel sounded like fun.’
‘Yes, but why a wheelie bin?’ I say.
‘Because it’s all I had,’ says Terry. ‘It’s not quite finished but it should be fine to just go back a few years to get our building permit.’
‘You go first, Andy,’ says Terry.
I climb in and Terry climbs in after me and closes the lid.
‘It’s really cramped in here,’ I say. ‘I thought time machines were supposed to be small on the outside and big on the inside.’
‘Well, yeah,’ says Terry, ‘they are, but it was only designed for one person.’
‘You were going to go time travelling without me?’ I say.
‘No,’ says Terry. ‘Well … when I say no … I mean yes … but no … well, only a little bit …’
‘How do you drive this thing, anyway?’ I say.
‘Easy,’ says Terry. ‘Set the chronometer for how many years back—or forward—you’d like to travel and then push the blast-off button.’
‘All right,’ I say.
I set the dial for six and a half years back. (That’s just before we started building our treehouse.)
But at that moment the lid opens.
It’s Inspector Bubblewrap!
‘It’s no use hiding, you know,’ he says.
‘The wrecking crew are on their way.
They’ll be here at exactly noon.
Get out and pack your belongings …
Or prepare to meet your doom.’
‘No way,’ I say. ‘We’re staying right here.’
‘Oh no you’re not!’ says the inspector.
He leans in and tries to grab us.
We crouch down as low as we can.
The inspector leans in further, slips and falls in on top of us.
‘UGH!’
‘OOF!’
There’s a weird whooshing sound.
‘What’s that noise?’ I say.
‘I think the time machine has started,’ says Terry. ‘The inspector must have bumped the blast-off button as he fell in.’
‘Time machine?’ says the inspector.
‘Yes,’ says Terry. ‘Hold on, we’re going back in tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime …’
