6 Grubby Gertrude

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Grubby GERTRUDE Do YOU KNOW an extremely dirty child? A grimy girl? A foul-smelling boy? However dirty and stinky they might be, they could never compare to Grubby Gertrude. This was a girl who delighted in being the dirtiest child in the world! Soap and water were complete strangers to Gertrude. Everywhere she went, a huge cloud of dust and dirt and pong followed her.

Needless to say, everything Grubby Gertrude touched became grubby too. Her schoolbooks were splattered and stained with unspeakable things. An!, despite her mother's protestations, Gertrude refu; ed to let her clothes be washed, so in no time they became encrusted with dirt too. However, the grubbiest thing in Gertrude's life was her bedroom. Although her mother begged her to, tidy it, Gertrude never, ever did. She simply dropped everything on the floor. It was as if her room was her own personal rubbish dump.

Over time the pile of pongy trainers, snotty tissues, half-eaten egg sandwiches and hamster droppings that had gone white and crumbly* came up to Gertrude's knees. The only way Gertrude could make it to her mucky bed was to wade through tons of rubbish. The bedroom carpet was a distant memory: it had not been seen for years. But, being one of the world's WORST children, Gertrude loved living knee-deep in filth. The grubbier the better. Now let me take a moment to tell you about Gertrude's feet. They were so grubby they looked like those of a troll.

Each foot was covered in a green fungus, and shie had long curling toenails that she refused to cut. As a result, her feet smelled even worse than runny cheese that had gone off decades ago. When Gertrude peeled each sock off at the end of the day, she would lift it to her nose. "Nimmmmmmmmm!" the girl would sigh in pleasure. You or I would have screamed at the smell or, at the very least, projectile-vomited. Not Gertrude. She was over the moon that her socks were the pongiest in the world. Then, like everything else, Gertrude would simply drop them on top of the ever-growing: mountain of muck on her bedroom floor.

"Please tidy your room this instant!" Gertrude's mother would plead. The poor lady was in torment. She prided herself on keeping the rest of her house utterly spotless. If a single biscuit crumb dropped on to the carpet, Mother would get the vacuum cleaner out. The grubbiness of Gertrude's bedroom was absolutely horrifying to her. How had she, a lady who always kept a vase of fresh flowers on the dining table, given birth to a child who chose to live in a... swamp? "BOG OFF!" Gertrude would reply with a laugh. She knew that her mother (always immaculately turned out with her hair in a swirl and a string of pearls round her neck) loathed her saying the word 'BOG'. So Gertrude always, always, always made sure she used it when speaking to her. "Daughter! I forbid you from using that foul word!" Mother would wail. "What? "BOG'?" Gertrude would answer mischievously. "Yes. It's a frightful word that has no place in my otherwise delightful home. Now, young lady, I need you to tidy your room this instant!" "BOG OFF!" Gertrude would shout back.