Nanny Piggins and the Race to Power 8 Read Online Free PDF

out.’
    ‘It’s true,’ admitted Nanny Piggins. ‘It means we have to travel in some very circuitous routes to get about town.’
    ‘That’s why you’ve got to train,’ said Tyler. ‘You’ve got an entire week until the race, which is plenty of time to build up your willpower.’

    The training regime started at 5 am sharp the next morning, when Nanny Piggins tried climbing out her window and running away, but Tyler was one step ahead of her. As a campaign manager she was used to dealing with politicians who were tremendously morally bankrupt, and always sneaking off to be naughty. So Tyler had the foresight to set up a net at the bottom of the drainpipe.
    She soon bundled Nanny Piggins up in the back of Mr Green’s Rolls-Royce and drove her down to the athletics track to begin training. The children and Boris got up early and went along too, because they knew they were to see a very rare sight indeed – Nanny Piggins not only taking exercise but also doing as she was told.
    Things did not start well. Tyler began by telling Nanny Piggins to do six laps of the field, then she blew a whistle. Nanny Piggins responded by yanking the whistle off Tyler’s neck, swinging it around her head and lobbing it up into the gutter of the grandstand.
    ‘I’m not going anywhere until I’ve had at least a dozen doughnuts,’ said Nanny Piggins, beginning to get that menacing look in her eyes that she always got when she was contemplating violence.
    ‘You’re not getting any doughnuts, full stop,’ said Tyler, who it turns out was capable of an equally fierce glower. ‘If you want to impress healthy people, you will have to stop jamming baked goods in your face at every available opportunity.’
    ‘I’ll jam your shin in my mouth in a minute,’ threatened Nanny Piggins.
    ‘Ladies, ladies,’ said Boris, bravely intervening. (He wasn’t too brave. He had worn steel-plated shin guards in anticipation of his sister becoming delirious with low blood cake levels and lashing out.) ‘Might I suggest a compromise?’
    ‘What?’ asked Tyler and Nanny Piggins.
    ‘You want Sarah to go jogging and, Sarah, you want to eat a piece of cake. I anticipated this impasse,’ said Boris. (He had been learning some big words at law school.) ‘I took the liberty of filling up the boot of the Rolls-Royce with Swiss rolls last night, so Tyler could drive the Rolls-Royce around the track and Sarah could chase it, thereby –’
    ‘There’s cake in the Rolls?!’ interrupted Nanny Piggins.
    Boris didn’t answer; he leapt on his sister, pinning her to the ground while flinging the Rolls-Royce keys to Tyler. ‘Quick, drive! I’ll delay her as long as I can, but I’ll only be able to hold her for a few seconds.’
    Fortunately Tyler had already taken off running. She snatched the keys out of the air and leapt in through the open window of the Rolls, screeching out onto the track and taking off.
    One particularly vicious nipple cripple to her hapless brother later, and Nanny Piggins gave chase. It was an extraordinary sight. Tyler sped around the track all morning and Nanny Piggins never lost pace. She was like a cyborg, ruthlessly, unrelentingly powering after her prey, lap after lap. They didn’t stop at ten, they kept going for fifty, then one hundred laps. Nanny Piggins completely focused on the cake and the cake alone.
    ‘Do you think she realises she could have run to Hans’ Bakery and back ten times over by now?’ asked Michael.
    ‘I don’t think she’s thinking about anything,’ said Boris. ‘She can smell the cake in the boot and it’s completely overpowered all rational thought in her mind.’
    ‘Does Nanny Piggins have many rational thoughts in her mind?’ asked Samantha.
    ‘Not many,’ admitted Boris, ‘but when she hasn’t had any breakfast, there are none at all.’
    ‘Hey look!’ said Derrick. ‘The Rolls-Royce is slowing down.’
    ‘What’s Tyler doing?’ asked Boris. ‘Doesn’t she know she is