Contents
The great birthday telling-off
The parent-shutter-upper-er seven trillion
About the author and drawer
‘Cock-a-doodle-doooooo!’ screeched my baby brother, Desmond Loser the Second, from his bedroom next to mine.
It was 6.17am on Saturday morning, not that I minded because . . .
‘IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!’ I cried, jumping out of bed and running downstairs doing an excitement blowoff on every step.
‘Happy birthday, my darling little Snookyflumps!’ cooed my mum, cuddling me into her bright