The World's Loudest Armpit Fart (8 page)

SPLAT!!!

‘Mum!’ screeched Natalie, as the purple jelly slid down her hair and on to her shoulders. ‘Tell them!’

Mum shook her head and looked thoughtful. ‘I think we need more Winkle.’

Dear Danny

Following your recent jelly exploits, I thought you would be interested to know that ‘Wibberley Wobberly – the Jellies from Mobberley’ are now officially world-beaters! Scientist from
The Great Big Book of World Records
have checked their jellies with a Wibblewobblemeter, and I can now declare that they are officially the World’s Wibbliest Wobbliest Jellies!

The company has a fascinating history. In 1835, the town of Mobberley in Cheshire was bathed in delicious aromas, as two friends, Wilberforce Wibberley and Waldorf Wobberley, opened a small jelly factory on Pigsfoot Lane. They sold their special, exotic home-made jellies from The Wibberley Wobberley Jelly and Sewing Machine Emporium on the High Street, and a quickly gained a reputation for producing the wobbliest and wobbliest jellies in England. Unfortunately their sewing machines were considered to make the wobbliest wobbliest
clothes
in England, so the friends made the excellent decision to forget all about sewing machines and concentrate on jelly-making. I for one am glad they did!

In 1838, the friends opened the Mobberley Medicinal Jellies Baths. People travelled from all over the world to ‘take the jelly wallow’. The company’s vast range of herbal jellies became famous for curing all sorts of conditions, such as Lubbock’s Lumbago, Gumboot Gout and Seriously Spotty Bottom Symdrome.

The company’s big break came in 1840, when Wilberforce Wibberley sent Queen Victoria a box of Bratwurst and Strawberry-flavoured jelly to celebrate her marriage to the German Prince Albert. Her Majesty was
very
amused, and declared the jelly to be ‘the most wobblesome food I have ever tasted’. The Queen liked the treat so much, that ‘Wibberley Wobberley – the Jellies from Mobberley’ became official suppliers of jelly to the Crown.

The jellies wibbled and wobbled to every part of the British Empire. During the Crimean War, Colonel Fortesque Ponsonby-Fflip, Commander of the 1st (and Last) Ponsonby Peashooter Regiment, said his army ‘marched on their jellies’. It was true! They filled their boots with Wibberley Wobberley Mushy-pea flavour to keep their feet warm!

In May 1854, the 3rd Battalion 379th Regiment of the Lordy Lowland Artillery ran out of cannonballs during the Battle of Umskidazi. Luckily the regimental cook had just made up a batch of extra wobbly Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding jellies, and the gunners used these instead, the Russian army surrendered immediately so that they could eat the yummy sweet.

The year 1923 was the darkest in the company’s history. A mysterious contamination of the jelly vats in the factory caused the jellies to lose their famous wibble. The company’s deadly rivals, ‘Jiggly Juggly – the Jellies from Buggly’, were suspected of foul play, but nothing could be proved. People stopped buying Wibberley Wobberley, and although the jellies eventually got their wibble back, sales never recovered.

However, in 1992, Millie Wibbereley and Molly Wobberley, Wilberforce and Waldorf’s great-great-great-granddaughters, brought the company bask to life. They began to invent uniquely weird and wonderful mixes, and sponsored the first Mobberley Jelly-spring Marathon. They also supported the British Jelly-juggling team that won the world championships five years in a row. Now, with the award of ‘The World’s Wibbliest Wobbliest Jellies’, I am delighted to officially announce that ‘Wibberley Wobberley – the Jellies from Mobberley’ are back on top of the world!

Best wishes

Eric Bibby

Keeper of the Records

To The Keeper of the Records

The Great Big Book of World Records

London

Dear Mr Bibby

Yesterday I attempted the Continuous Musical Armpit-farting record. I managed to play 2,081 verses of ‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm’ on my left armpit, and had been going for fourteen hours, twenty-seven minutes and eleven seconds, when I squeezed to hard on the 2,081st ‘Eee-I-Eee-I-Oh’ and bruised my fingers.

My sister, Natalie, said that if I’d gone on any longer, she’d have bruised more than my fingers! She was upstairs, trying to listen to her favourite boy band, Boy$!!! (or Yawn$!!! As I call them). Even with the volume turned right up, she could still hear my armpit farts! Could they have been the Loudest Ever?

Best wishes

Danny Baker

PS Matthew made a recording of my armpit music on his dad’s old tape recorder. It filled nearly eight tapes. I’ve sent one of them with this letter.

Dear Danny

I hope your bruised fingers aren’t too painful and don’t affect your goalkeeping.

Your Continuous Musical Armpit-farting performance was truly enchanting, but did not trump that of the self-styled ‘Grand Master of Armpit-farting’ Ronan O’Kidney, of Ballybogey in Northern Ireland. On 19 and 20 August 2001, Ronan played a selection of Irish folk-songs on
his
left armpit for forty-two hours, fourteen minutes and seven seconds, before repetitive strain injury finally took its toll.

Ronan’s armpit-farts were so loud he drowned out the Ballybogey Boogie-woogie Bugle Boys, who were playing in the village hall two streets away, and forced them to cancel their concert!

Mr O’Kidney has written a concerto for Solo Armpit and Woodwind, but no traditional musicians will perform it with him. He is determined that the world should take armpit-music seriously and in 2007 formed the All-Ireland Armpit Orchestra, the first and only one of its kind. You could form an armpit band at your school and do duets with Matthew!

Good luck with your next record attempt.

Best wishes

Eric Bibby

Keeper of the Records

Danny stood on the wide flat sands of Bladderpool, with his bare feet in a small barrel of donkey do-do, holding a bunch of carrots in each hand. He was not alone. Two long lines of boys and girls also stood in barrels of donkey do-do forming an avenue that led off the sands and along the promenade.

They were all there to perform the Donkey Dung Dance on Bladderpool’s Summer’s End Saturday. All summer long the donkeys had paraded up and down the beach in their specially decorated straw hats, giving rides to happy children. Today was the day everyone thanked them for their hard work, before the animals went off to have a well-earned rest in their winter pasture. Crowds of people cheered and clapped as a brass band, jugglers and acrobats escorted the donkeys between the lines of jiggling kids.