Down with the Dirty Danes!

Down with the Dirty Danes!
Gillian Cross

Tim Stevens

An hilarious story, told in letter form, about King Alfred – he who burnt the cakes, and his battles with the Vikings.Berwin, son of Egfrith, writes to Wulfric, son of Elred using his miraculous new talent of reading and writing. Berry’s spellings leave a lot to be desired and in his hilarious letters he tells a tale of mixups and mayhem when King Alfred hides in his family’s cottage but is mistaken for a Dirty Dane – their word for the Vikings. A completely new perspective on why and how those cakes got burned!Fast and very, very funny from the prize-winning author of The Demon Headmaster and other books.

Contents

Cover (#ud2b6ba24-0e25-5e54-824c-a0da5068df00)

Title Page (#uebe7a7fd-a0fd-5a6c-8ca1-d32c0cf993a3)

The First Letter (#ulink_c3717bcd-fa1f-54a5-9a97-264c616d206c)

The Next Letter (#ulink_7d8e7aea-5d5f-5213-ab97-4bf1e5dc9f5a)

Letter Number 3 (#litres_trial_promo)

The Forth Letter (#litres_trial_promo)

The Fiffth Letter (#litres_trial_promo)

The Larst Letter which meens The End of the Story (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

THE FIRST LETTER (#ulink_ac769fa8-0d12-5f44-b36d-38c26710e840)

From Berwin sun of Egfrith to Wulfric sun of Elred

Dear cosen,

Yes – a letter from me! Surprise!

You dident think Id ever learn to rite did you? Nor did Mum. She thinks riteing is only for monks.

‘No monking for you, Berry,’ she says.

‘Pleese, pleeeeeese,’ I said. ‘Let me be a monk and learn redeing and riteing.’

But no luck. I had to do dull stuff like fiting and digging all the time. And when there was no fiting, it was

WORSE!!

Yes, you got it. Minding the baby and looking after the gote and the geese.

NO FUN!!!

So how cum Berry is riteing a letter, I heer you say?

Its a long story but Ill tell you.

Larst month everything was V.V. BAD heer. Lots of misty mist and nasty news. Espeshally – King Alfrid was being smashed to smithers by the lowsy old Danes. The English were doing really badly in all the fiting.

ENGLISH O DANES ZOOO

Becoz King A was losing, everywun was running out on him. Rotten swines! Whats the point of having a king if you dont stick by him?

Thats what Mum said. ‘Rotten swines they are, Egfrith,’ she said to my dad. ‘Sumwuns got to stand by King Alfrid. Youll have to go and be in his army.’

‘Me?!’ said my dad. He dosent like fiting any more than me. Hees a bit of a passi passyfist pasi he dosent like being hit.

‘Dont be a wimp, Eggy!’ my mum said. ‘If you dont go I will.’

That did it, of corse. Everywun nose women cant fite for toffee. Theyd trip over there skirts if they tride.

‘No fiting by women!’ says Dad. ‘Get out my axe and stuff and Ill go and find King Alfrid. But make shore you feed the pig and the geese. And dont forget to

MILK THE GOTE.’

‘Corse I wont forget,’ Mum says. ‘Silly old fuel!’

‘You better not,’ Dad says. ‘And dont blame me if the Dirty Danes cum to eat the baby up while Im out helping King Alfrid.’

Ho ho ho. Everywun says the Danes eat babys, but what I say is – no such luck. If people had to cleen up babys, they wouldnt say that. Whod eat a BABY?!

Yuck, yuck, yuck!!!

So my dad took his hat and his boots and his cleen socks, and off he went, trying to look feerce and bad to scare any Dirty Danes that were abowt.

Only what did Mum find the next day? Stuck in the basket of logs by the side of the fire?

You got it!

DADS AXE!

‘Oh no!’ Mum says. ‘When the Dirty Danes chop off his hed, he wont be able to chop them back! What can I do?’

So – what did she do?

Well, Im not telling in this letter, so HARD LUCK. My hand is v.V.V. tired and I cant rite any more. Riteing is really tuff. Im going to do sum finger X-ercises to bild up my mussels and then Ill rite anuther letter and tell you what Mum did abowt the axe.

From your cosen,

Berry