Nanny Piggins and the Pursuit of Justice Read Online Free PDF

better people’s identities.’
    ‘Mother?’ yelped Bramwell. ‘She’s not here, is she?’ He looked about in a panic.
    ‘Of course not, you twit,’ condemned Nanny Piggins. ‘She’s been dead for years.’
    Bramwell heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Oh yes, of course, thank goodness.’
    Nanny Piggins was now shaking with rage.‘Leaving aside your pleasure in our mother’s death – I shall bite you for that later – first things first, how dare you steal my identity and the accomplishments of all our sisters just to flatter your own ego and sell books!’
    ‘Sarah? Is that you?’ asked Bramwell. While his fourteen sisters were physically identical, from much experience Bramwell was able to identify them by their own unique way of yelling at him.
    ‘It certainly is,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘And how dare you come to my home town claiming to be “The World’s Greatest Flying Pig”.’
    ‘I didn’t know you lived here,’ protested Bramwell.
    ‘Balderdash!’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins. ‘When you drive into town there is a great big sign saying “Welcome to Dullsford. Population 66,782. Home of Nanny Piggins, World’s Greatest Flying Pig.”’
    ‘In his defence,’ whispered Derrick, ‘the last bit is hard to read because it is in Boris’ handwriting.’
    ‘There is no excuse!’ yelled Nanny Piggins. ‘How dare you, who have achieved so little, take the credit for we who have done so much.’
    Bramwell winked at his audience. ‘You’ll have to excuse my little sister. Her imagination runs awaywith her from time to time.’
    ‘What?!’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins.
    ‘Don’t judge her,’ continued Bramwell (while surreptitiously trying to shove copies of his own books into his socks for protection). ‘It is hard for a tiny sapling to grow in the shadow of a great oak.’
    ‘Did he just patronise me?’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins. ‘Right, that’s it. I’m taking my frock off. It’s shin-biting time.’
    ‘Sarah, my dear,’ said Bramwell, clutching the podium tightly and keeping it between him and his sister. ‘There is no need for that.’
    ‘Then immediately admit that your whole book is just a pack of lies,’ demanded Nanny Piggins.
    Bramwell paused. He thought about how much he liked getting great big royalty cheques from his publisher, and then he thought about how a few shin bites would soon heal and go away. ‘No I won’t,’ said Bramwell. ‘Every single word is true and you can’t prove otherwise.’
    The audience cheered. Bramwell looked proud of his cleverness.
    But Nanny Piggins was baffled by his stupidity. ‘Of course I can prove you’re a fraud, you great big idiot. Nothing would be easier. For a start I can show that I am the world’s greatest flying pig by challenging you to a dual. Right here tomorrow morning, let’s both get blasted out of cannons and see who flies further. That’ll soon settle that.’
    ‘What a brilliant idea!’ exclaimed the publicist, who got out her mobile phone so she could tell all her journalist friends.
    ‘Now hang on,’ protested Bramwell. ‘I am an author now. Um . . . it would be unseemly and . . . er . . . besides, I don’t have a cannon.’
    ‘Don’t worry,’ said the publicist. ‘I’ll arrange it all. Publicity like this is unbeatable. Your books will fly off the shelves.’
    ‘Good, it’s settled then,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Prepare to be belittled right here tomorrow morning at 9 am.’
    Nanny Piggins then grabbed hold of her brother, gave him a noogie, a wedgie, a wet willy and several other physically unpleasant things siblings do to each other, before storming out of the bookshop with the children. The audience again clapped. They had expected a rather dull book reading, but instead they had apparently been treated to a dramatic morning of improvised theatre.
    During the night Nanny Piggins and Boris went down to the local war museum and borrowed the largest Howitzer. (The war museum had becomeused to this and in