Down with the Dirty Danes!. Gillian Cross

grabs the baby. ‘Its them! Theyve cum to eat us!!’

      ‘Dont be stupid,’ I say. ‘Annywun nose Dirty Danes cant speak English.’

      I open the dore. ‘Hallo,’ I say. ‘English or Danish?’ (Just checking.)

      ‘English for ever!’ he says, so I let him in.

      Hees English all rite (everywun nose Danes have tails and green hair and stuff) but hees not exactly tuff. He stands in the middle of the hut going drip drip drip. (You no it always rains heer. Thats why most places are marshy and go SKWELCH. This drippy English person looks like he walked through a marsh or two. Or ten.)

      ‘Pleese can I stay heer for the night (drip drip drip)?’ he goes. ‘Its wet out there.’

      I thort Mum wood say ‘Not on yore life. Yore a stranger.’ But shees still thinking abowt Dad and the axe.

      She looks at the stranger. ‘What do you think of babys?’

      He trys to look polite. ‘There OK,’ he says. ‘But dogs are better.’

      ‘You woodent eat wun?’ Mum says.

      The man looks at her as if shees mad.

      ‘Good!’ says Mum. ‘You can stay then. But youll have to cook the dinner yoreself. And theres Berry and the baby and all the animals.’ She grabs Dads axe and opens the dore.