Casper Candlewacks in Death by Pigeon!. Ivan Brett

on its tray.

      Casper looked over to his dad in disbelief. “Did you say Tiramisu?”

      “It’s him!” Julius whispered to Casper. “He wants to eat at The Boiled Sprout!” He grinned manically and shook his fist like footballers do when they score goals, or like chefs do when famous Italian magicians want to eat at their restaurant.

      “That’s great!” Casper lied. It wasn’t great, it was terrifying. Who knows what The Great Tiramisu would demand, but whatever it was, Julius wouldn’t be able to do it. And then what would happen…?

      Julius whispered again, “Get me a pen and paper, quick!”

      Cuddles launched again for the phone, but completely missed and almost toppled its high chair. It let out a frustrated screech and then distracted itself by gnawing on a mouthful of its own fingers.

      Returning to the phone call, Julius said, “Sorry, Mr Tiramisu, I had to put the finishing touches to a dish. A scream? No, I don’t think… oh yes, one of my sous-chefs. Child? Well, I like to hire them when they’re young. So, ahem, is there anything you’d like to eat in particular?” Just in time, Casper handed his dad the pad of paper and he scrawled frantically,

       TiramisuTomorrow, after show Finest Food IMPORTANT: NO CORIANDER

      … and then Cuddles got its greedy little hand to the phone, grabbed it, threw it at the wall and it smashed into hundreds of little phoney pieces.

      Chapter 3.5

      All the Facts That Exist About Coriander.

       Coriander was first discovered in 1834 by Sir Digmund Coriander-Discoverer, when he was looking in his garden for a little something to add flavour to his carrot soup. He tried adding grass, but it tasted too lawny; so next he tried some bark, but it tasted too tree-ey. Then he noticed, nestling amongst the lupins, a mysterious aromatic herb. He put some in his soup and the rest, as they say, is cookery.

       Here are some fun facts about coriander that you may or may not know:

      In some countries, coriander is used for medicinal purposes, such as in Burma, where it is the accepted treatment for a cracked rib.

      A particularly leafy sprig of coriander won the 1997 Oscar for ‘Best Herb in a Supporting Role’ in the film Coriander and Me.

      The small English village of Upper Crustenbury, in the picturesque Kobb Valley, is famous for its bountiful coriander crops; so much so that its residents hold an annual coriander festival to celebrate their favourite herb.

      The word ‘coriander’ comes from the Romanian, Quarie ain derr, which, due to a small translation error, literally means ‘A small, sticky badger with a pair of shorts on its head’.

      Famous Italian magician ‘The Great Tiramisu’ is violently allergic to coriander. If he eats even the smallest amount, his face inflates and turns green and he breaks out in big oozing yellow pustules. Because of this, he telephones ahead of his visit to any restaurant to ask specifically that no coriander be added to his food.

       These are all the facts that exist about coriander. If anyone tells you any more coriander facts, they are lying and should be pelted with rotten quinces. If you don’t have any quinces to hand, a handful of chopped apricots will do fine.

      Chapter 4

      What Casper Saw

      The whole village had turned out to see The Great Tiramisu, apart from Julius, Cuddles and Amanda Candlewacks, and the one-hundred-and-seven-year-old Betty Woons, who had hated magic ever since her husband was killed by a wild pack of cards. Everyone else was there, even the village mascot, Fatima the ferret, who was sitting in her cage in the front row nibbling on a vole. The magic show was nearing an end, and even Casper had quite enjoyed it, apart from the fact that Lamp Flannigan had taken the ‘no glow-in-the-dark trousers’ comment to mean no trousers at all, which had caused great embarrassment for Casper and hilarity for Anemonie and chums. Lamp thought all the laughing was a good thing, so he made some manly poses and showed off his legs, none of which made it any better.

      The Great Tiramisu’s grand finale involved locking a volunteer, giggly little Teresa Louncher, in an underwater metal cage, and then impaling her with two sharpened (but rather bewildered) swordfish. The swordfish were removed, the cage was lifted out of the water, the magic wand was waved and Teresa sprang back to life, screeching with delight. At this point the audience in the village hall erupted with tumultuous applause like a really impressed volcano.

      “He’s utterly delightful!” screamed Audrey Snugglepuss, village gossip and vice-chairwoman of the Corne-on-the-Kobb Carrot Cake Appreciation Society, from behind Casper.

      “An’ so good wiv swordfish,” said Sandy Landscape, “but how’d ’e do that there one with the cheese and the dynamite?” (If you’re interested, he had a hidden mirror behind the walrus. Simple, really.)

      It was most certainly a standing ovation. If there were an even better ovation than a standing one, like a jumping ovation or something, it would have been that. For the idiots of Corne-on-the-Kobb, Christmas and Birthday and Halloween and even Saint Pelican’s Day had come all at once, in the shape of a moustache-sporting Italian illusionist who could make bagfuls of rabbits disappear. Most of the villagers would have been impressed if he’d flipped a coin or jangled some keys, so you can imagine how amazed they were when The Great Tiramisu got cut in half, locked his legs in a safe, put that safe in another safe, put that safe in a box full of snakes, angered the snakes by insulting their mother, and then somehow unlocked the safes and glued himself together again, blindfolded, hands tied behind his back, while asleep.

      “I thank-a you all, you beautiful people! Wasn’t I magnifico!” sang the magician, as some of the women near the front threw bunches of freshly picked dandelions and salad leaves at his feet. Mayor Rattsbulge, Corne-on-the-Kobb’s fattest mayor since the pie tax was abolished, managed to lift his hefty frame on stage to thank The Great Tiramisu personally and to offer him the key to the village (which he accepted reluctantly because he hadn’t a clue what it was for) along with a bouquet of summer roses presented by Anemonie Blight in a sickly pink frock and matching hairband. Yes, The Great Tiramisu was a show-off of the vilest proportions, but Casper had to admit that his magic tricks had actually been quite good.

      As the excited idiots filed out of the village hall, Lamp, still without trousers, approached Casper eagerly. “Want to come and try my buggy? I’ve got some washing-up liquid now. Found it in a shop.”