5 Harry

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HARRY, Who Never, Ever Did His Homework HARRY HATED HOMEWORK. He did everything he could to avoid doing it. The boy had a long list of excuses he would recite to teachers explaining why he couldn't hand it in: My goldfish ate it.

My mum ate it. She's been on a diet and was extremely peckish. The house was robbed by a gang of burglars and the first thing they took was my Geography exercise book. There is a big criminal black market in Geography homework. My homework was deemed so superb that it went straight to the British Library, where it will be kept under glass for future generations. I left it on the back seat of my dad's car, but unfortunately a hippopotamus escaped from the zoo and sat on the car, destroying everything inside.

My Little sister is an origami master and used the pages of my exercise book to make a huge paper re-creation of Ancient Tokyo. It was put in a rocket and blasted into space by NASA scientists attempting to seek contact with aliens to show there is intelligent life on Earth. We were all out of loo paper, so my Aunt Rose used it to wipe her bottom. It was struck by a bolt of lightning and it burst into a ball of flames. Secret Service agents confiscated it as they said it contained a top-secret algebra equation.

Because Harry never, ever did his homework, he had time to do all the fun things he wanted to do after school, like play on his games console for hours and hours, and... Actually, that's it. Playing computer games was all the boy liked doing. If he had his way, he would play computer games all day and all night. His thumbs working the controller, the boy would-laugh to himself... "Ha! Ha! Ha!" ...as he thought about all his classmates having to do their homework while he drove racing cars through the streets of Monte Carlo, or flew through space shooting lasers, or scored the winning goal in the World Cup.

The boy had not handed in his homework for so many years that his teachers had all given up on him. However, one day a new teacher arrived at the school, a mysterious old History teacher, called Madame Magna. This lady was dressed from head to toe in black, with a lace scarf covering her head, which all but obscured her eyes. Madame Magna smelled like an old, musty book that you might find in a jumble sale, and she spoke with a thick foreign accent that nobody could quite place. Rumours about the old lady swirled around the school. On her arrival some children thought she might be a witch.