Sally's entry:
The BFG (Roald Dahl)
I is not liking Chrissybus very much as snozzcumbers do not make very scrumblious Chrissybus dinners. My friend Sophie is tellin’ me the Queen is eating turnkeys but I does not think I would enjoy this neither. Human beans is funny creatures if they is eating things like gobbly turnkeys. Them feathers would get all stuck in your teeth.
I also does not like Chrissybus because I gets too many very large visitors. Bloodbottler is just gone out of here an’ I is still shaking from it. He is not liking Chrissybus neither. All the little chiddlers is tucked up safe in their houses and Bloodbottler cannot catch them so he is powerful hungry and sore. I did say to him he could have my snozzcumber but he just picked me up by my feet and danglied me downside-up in my frobscottle bucket. Then he let me go and went off to join Bonecrusher and Fangmangler who is also in a crashy fury outside - I am still hearing them smashing up rocks on each other’s heads now.
There is one good thing about Chrissybus, mind. I is about to do it now. I has picked out a big glass of frobscottle from my bucket and I is turning on my new telly-mission what my friend Sophie is giving me. Every Chrissybus the Queen is turning up inside my telly-mission and talking to me. I likes to cheer her with my frobscottle (although they does not have frobscottle where Sophie is from, they drink a horribus thing they call water - I feels sorry for them, I really does) - and then I does a nice big whizzpop as soon as she is finished talking to make her more happly. She is smiling every time.
Zena's entry:
Extract from the Christmas Day diary of Bertie Wooster (P.G.Wodehouse)
We Woosters are never early risers, and the sun was high in the heavens when I woke to greet the festive day. I was at my peak, fizzy to an almost unbelievable extent and ready to enchant the world with my cheery smile, when Aunt Dahlia marched in.
“A very merry Pip-pip to you, aged relative,” I said.
“Bertie, you reptile,” she said, after voicing the view that I was a lazy young hound. “You’ve got to come downstairs immediately if you don’t want an aunt’s curse on you.”
“Is something the matter?”
“You bet. Percy Gorringe is in a sulk because Florence has called off their engagement. He’s refusing to eat, blister his blighted insides!” She charged out.
As Jeeves put it while adjusting my tie, and I must say he made a very fine job of it,
“Most disturbing, sir.”
“You would go as far as that?”
“Indeed, sir. Anatole is a sensitive chef. He’s refused to cook altogether for lesser slights than this.”
Anatole is the wizard of the pots and pans, and there is something about his Christmas fare that leaves you in a sort of rose mist, so I was still goshing when Florence breezed in dressed up to the nines for the festivities. Florence is a spirited girl but she is pretty highbrow. When we were affianced she planned to mould my noble soul, so the ordinary sort of bloke like myself does well to give her as wide a miss as possible.
“Bertie, dear!” she yipped. “I’m engaged to you again,” and she rippled out.
I started violently, shaken to my depths, my fizz unsparkled. “Golly, Jeeves!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Re-hitched and no dinner. Good Lord!”
“Yes sir. If I might make a suggestion, sir.”
“Certainly, Jeeves.”
My seasonal fizz began to bubble again…..
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