Corne-on-the-Kobb is a lovely little village. It has a church, a park, a school and a restaurant. There’s a pub, a shop and a flock of tame pigeons in the village square. But hidden away from real life, in the valley of the River Kobb, there’s not much reason to go there.
In fact, no one goes to Corne-on-the-Kobb unless they live there or they’ve got a faulty satnav.
Casper Candlewacks had decided long ago that he didn’t like living in Corne-on-the-Kobb. It was boring and tiring and lonely, and there were never any adventures to be had. Sometimes Casper thought about moving abroad, to Turkey, Thailand, or even Tunbridge Wells, but then he thought about the food and the tigers, and decided against it.
Casper trudged home dejectedly. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen someone trudge dejectedly, but it’s not a gainly sight. It’s all arms and legs and huffs. Corne-on-the-Kobb was pretty today, in the sun, but Casper didn’t notice. He felt horrible. That, he thought to himself, was probably the second worst day of school he’d ever had (after that one with the penguins). Twenty-five pages! For what? He trudged through the village square, past the weathered statue of Sir Gossamer D’Glaze with his glittering bejewelled sword, and past the pigeons (who were merrily pecking at a DO NOT FEED THE PIGEONS sign).
“’Ere, Casperr.” It was Sandy Landscape, Corne-onthe-Kobb’s ‘Second Best Gardener of the Year’ for twenty years running and then ‘First Best Gardener of the Year’ for another twelve, after the other chap got eaten by a Venus Flytrap. It’s a dangerous business, gardening.
“Oh, hello, Mr Landscape,” Casper replied. Sandy Landscape was the last thing he needed on an afternoon where all he really wanted to do was trudge.
“You ’aven’t seen a goat runnin’ about, ’av yer? ’E’s about this high, brown ’air, grey beard, looks a bit like a goat.”
Casper surveyed the square. “No, sorry. Haven’t seen one. Is he yours?”
“Oh, no, ’e’s not moine. ’E’s jus’ been munchin’ on my geraniums. Gonner teach ’im a lesson on mannerrs.” And with that, Sandy Landscape galloped away out of sight, giving the occasional call of “’Ere goaty goaty!”
Casper watched him disappear, and then got back to his trudging. He trudged past the shop and didn’t even go inside for a packet of crisps. He trudged through the park, where a flustered-looking woman was being chased by a goat, and turned right at the end to trudge down Feete Street, at which point he stopped trudging. Taped to a postbox in front of him was a poster for The Great Tiramisu. There he stood, moustache glistening, with his shiny purple suit and top hat, and a smarmy smirk that said, “I’m better than you in every possible way.” He was in the process of waving his magic wand at an oversized pack of cards. Casper read the little blurb beside the picture:
On the back of his award-winning, sellout World Tour, Italy’s most talented, beautiful and generally fabulous magician will be coming to YOUR village to baffle, amaze and inspire you with his one-of-a-kind magic extravaganza! Have you ever seen a levitating lion? Have you ever seen a man transform into a bowl of raspberry jelly? Neither has The Great Tiramisu, but he’s working on it…
Casper sighed. Why did everyone like The Great Tiramisu so much? He was just a tacky illusionist with a crush on his own reflection and a sell-out world tour.
“I don’t like him either,” said Lamp Flannigan. Casper jumped about two metres in the air. “Agh! Lamp! I’ve told you not to do that!”
“Not do what?”
“Not to creep up on me! It’s… well… it’s creepy!”
The boy looked down at his feet (which had a sponge attached to each sole) and said, “Sorry, Casper. I didn’t mean to.” He walked a few steps away, turned and making as much noise he could (which wasn’t much, given the sponge shoes) he stomped back towards Casper. “Is that better?”
“It’s a bit late now, Lamp, you’ve already shocked me.”
Lamp Flannigan was an idiot. Of all the idiots in Class 6, Lamp was the most idiotic. He was such an idiot that even the residents of Corne-on-the-Kobb thought it, and if a group of idiots think you’re an idiot, you’ve probably got a thing or two to worry about up there. Lamp was such an idiot that he couldn’t even spell the word ‘a’. He couldn’t tie his shoelaces and he thought babies grew on trees. He always wore his trousers back-to-front, he was scared of trains… you get the point. Lamp was short, chunky and had a warm face with wide, vacant green eyes. He had dark scruffy hair that looked like he’d lent it to a chimney sweep for a while, and a bulbous nose that dongled downwards, like a big, ripe, nose-coloured pear with nostrils.
Lamp liked inventing things. He spent most of his time at the Kobb Valley rubbish tip where he trawled the place for driveshafts and gearboxes. He then took them all home, stuck them together with wood glue, and wondered why they didn’t work. Lamp had built wind-powered space rockets, underwater helicopters and bicycles for dogs. The villagers of Corne-on-the-Kobb didn’t try to stop him; after all, it wasn’t hurting anyone (apart from the cycling dog, who escaped with minor bruises and a fear of handlebars). Amazingly, none of Lamp’s inventions had had much success. If you’re wondering about the sponge shoes, they were his invention too. They were designed for walking on water.
“Can we walk home together?” said Lamp. “Lamp, you live that way.” Casper pointed in the direction of Lamp’s house, the opposite way down the street.
Poor Lamp Flannigan was confused. He waited for a moment, and then said, “Can we walk home together?”
Casper rolled his eyes. “Fine, come on.”
As they walked, Lamp told Casper about his latest invention. “It’s a motorised buggy, but it runs on washing-up liquid. You know – what you wash dishes with. I haven’t got it working yet because I haven’t got any washing-up liquid, but I’ll find some soon. And it sits two people, so when it’s finished we can drive around town, you and me!”
“I’ve got to do that punishment tonight, Lamp. I can’t go on your buggy until it’s finished.” He didn’t want to go on Lamp’s buggy at all because he valued having his limbs still attached to his body, but the punishment was a good excuse.
Lamp chuckled and carried on. “That’s all right, I understand. Mrs Snagg was mean to you today. She’s mean to everyone. Apart from Enemy.”
Casper looked at Lamp quizzically. “Enemy?”
“Yeah, Emenemy,” said Lamp.
“Anemonie?”
He tried again. “Emenony.”
“Anemonie!”
“Aminime?”
They walked in silence for a bit, turning the corner into Cracklin Crescent, where Casper lived.
“Are you going to see The Great Tyrannosaurus then?” asked Lamp.
Casper shook his head. “No, I can’t stand him. He thinks he’s better than everyone else, but he’s not.”
“I don’t really understand magic,” said Lamp, “but my mum got me a ticket. She says I should take up other hobbies, not just inventing. I told her there was no point because I’m going to be a famous inventor and I’m going to invent the self-cleaning armchair, but she doesn’t care.”
“The self-cleaning armchair?”
“I know! Why has nobody thought of it before? Anyway, do you want to come with me? Mum got another ticket for a friend