David Walliams - Fing

The years passed. Mr and Mrs Meek secretly hoped that their daughter was just “going through a phase”. But this “phase” was not one she ever grew out of. In fact, Myrtle’s behaviour became worse and worse* over the years.

The nasty noughts turned into the outrageous ones. Then followed the terrible twos, and the tumultuous threes. After the fearsome fours and the frightful fives came the sickening sixes and the spiteful sevens. Then there were the egregious eights and the noisy nines.

Oh my word, they were noisy. Now nine, Myrtle would wake her parents up every morning by howling…

I wanna teddy bear!”

I wanna pony!”

I wanna suitcase full of money!”

The girl would make such a din that the little Meek family house would actually shake.

RATTLE!

Books would fly off the shelves.

WHOOSH! BONK!

Pictures would fall off the walls.

DUNK! SHATTER!

Plaster would shower down from the ceiling.

CRUMBLE! DUNK!

Poor Mr and Mrs Meek would be hurled out of bed.

DOOF! DOOF!

They would scramble to their feet, and immediately run around doing their daughter’s bidding. They gave Myrtle everything. But everything was never, ever enough.

Oh no.

The girl wanted

one more

“FING”.

Over the years, Myrtle’s bedroom became so piled high with stuff her parents had got her that you could barely get in or out. She demanded more and more and more, and she got more and more and more.

Myrtle had at least one thing for every letter of the alphabet:

Ant farm. Home to a million and one ants.

Boomerang that doesn’t come back. Myrtle lost that on her first throw.

Cowbell, which the girl put round her mother’s neck so she could locate her easily.

Dog-grooming set. Even though she didn’t have a dog.

Elf.

Finger puppets of every king and queen of England from 1066 to the present day.

Gravel collection. It was the biggest in Europe.

Ham slicer. Even though she hated ham.

Ice skates made for an elephant. Four of them.

Jar containing one of scientist Albert Einstein’s burps.*

Knee warmers.

Lucky sausage. Actually it was unlucky.

Map of Belgium. A country she had no intention of ever visiting as it was, in her words, “too Belgiumy”.

Nelson’s Column made out of sultanas. Life-size.

Owl fudge. This is fudge made of melted-down owls. It is even more disgusting than it sounds.

Painting of some air. It wasn’t much to look at.

Quicksand. Children who came over for a playdate and ended up displeasing Myrtle met their doom in it.

Remote-controlled hedge (which could reach speeds of up to one mile an hour).

Stuffed flea. It was so small that it was impossible to see.