Read Online Nanny Piggins and the Pursuit of Justice by R. A. Spratt - Free Book Online
Authors: R. A. Spratt
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cream, butter, sugar and cake.’
‘I’m calling a doctor,’ said the 29-year-old, taking out a mobile phone.
‘Colonel, confiscate his phone,’ ordered Nanny Piggins.
The Colonel loved following orders, especially from his favourite pig, so he soon had the 29-year-old in a painful wristlock, forcing him to drop the phone to the floor, where Mr Bernard crushed it with several lusty blows from his oxygen stand.
‘What are you doing?’ asked the 29-year-old.
‘I’m taking over this old people’s home andturning it into a five-star gourmet restaurant,’ announced Nanny Piggins.
The old people cheered.
‘You can’t do that,’ protested the 29-year-old.
‘Why not?’ demanded Nanny Piggins.
‘You can’t start a restaurant without business models, cash flow assessments and market analysis,’ babbled the 29-year-old.
‘Pish!’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Just you watch me.’
So Nanny Piggins set to work transforming the Golden Willows Retirement Home. She put Mrs Hastings in charge as restaurant manager, because any woman who could stage a bank robbery obviously had excellent planning skills. She made Mrs Clemenceau head chef, Mr Lessandro sous chef, and Mrs Broomfield chief chef in charge of jammy dodgers. Then Nanny Piggins forced the 29-year-old to become maître d’.
‘But I’m an investment banker,’ protested the 29-year-old. ‘I can’t spend the whole day away from the office.’
‘It’ll do you good,’ said Nanny Piggins as she lifted the car keys from his pocket. ‘The people youwork for are obviously profoundly morally bankrupt if they invest in old people’s homes as a moneymaking scheme. You’re much better off here, away from their corrupting influence.’
‘But I want to be corrupted,’ protested the 29-year-old, ‘so I can make a lot of money and retire at 40.’
‘Trust me,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘You’ll be fat, bald and well on the way to a terminal heart condition by forty. You’ll be much better off if you start living your life today.’
And by the end of the week the Golden Willows Restaurant had people lining up around the block, desperate to try their delicious food. It turns out that there was a huge market of young people eager to try forbidden ingredients they had only heard of – like butter and cream – as well as a huge market of old people who could still remember the magical taste of their grandmother’s cooking.
Even the 29-year-old had a good time. He found he was much better at seating guests and fetching drinks than he was at insider trading.
And after dinner every night the old people put on a show. All the dinner guests were invited outside to watch the Colonel launch his flying machine and do a turn around the garden. Sometimes hemade it all the way around and back to the window and sometimes he crashed into the next door neighbour’s sycamore tree; either way it was always spectacular.
The only downside was, by the end of the week, Nanny Piggins had also made herself totally redundant. The Golden Willows Restaurant was a thriving independent business and she was back in a probation officer’s office, having only completed sixty-seven hours of community service.
‘Oh dear, Nanny Piggins,’ said the probation officer. ‘If you’re going to whittle away your 5000-hour community service requirement you are going to have to resist the urge to transform every institution I send you to into a huge profitgenerating organisation.’
‘I’m sorry,’ apologised Nanny Piggins. ‘I just can’t help myself. It comes from being so very good at everything.’
But the children were not at all sorry. They were happy to get their nanny back, at least for a short while, until the probation officer could find another suitable (or unsuitable) job for Nanny Piggins.
N anny Piggins had never been so bored in her life. When she agreed to chaperone the children’s school excursion as part of her community service, she had assumed they would be
‘I’m calling a doctor,’ said the 29-year-old, taking out a mobile phone.
‘Colonel, confiscate his phone,’ ordered Nanny Piggins.
The Colonel loved following orders, especially from his favourite pig, so he soon had the 29-year-old in a painful wristlock, forcing him to drop the phone to the floor, where Mr Bernard crushed it with several lusty blows from his oxygen stand.
‘What are you doing?’ asked the 29-year-old.
‘I’m taking over this old people’s home andturning it into a five-star gourmet restaurant,’ announced Nanny Piggins.
The old people cheered.
‘You can’t do that,’ protested the 29-year-old.
‘Why not?’ demanded Nanny Piggins.
‘You can’t start a restaurant without business models, cash flow assessments and market analysis,’ babbled the 29-year-old.
‘Pish!’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Just you watch me.’
So Nanny Piggins set to work transforming the Golden Willows Retirement Home. She put Mrs Hastings in charge as restaurant manager, because any woman who could stage a bank robbery obviously had excellent planning skills. She made Mrs Clemenceau head chef, Mr Lessandro sous chef, and Mrs Broomfield chief chef in charge of jammy dodgers. Then Nanny Piggins forced the 29-year-old to become maître d’.
‘But I’m an investment banker,’ protested the 29-year-old. ‘I can’t spend the whole day away from the office.’
‘It’ll do you good,’ said Nanny Piggins as she lifted the car keys from his pocket. ‘The people youwork for are obviously profoundly morally bankrupt if they invest in old people’s homes as a moneymaking scheme. You’re much better off here, away from their corrupting influence.’
‘But I want to be corrupted,’ protested the 29-year-old, ‘so I can make a lot of money and retire at 40.’
‘Trust me,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘You’ll be fat, bald and well on the way to a terminal heart condition by forty. You’ll be much better off if you start living your life today.’
And by the end of the week the Golden Willows Restaurant had people lining up around the block, desperate to try their delicious food. It turns out that there was a huge market of young people eager to try forbidden ingredients they had only heard of – like butter and cream – as well as a huge market of old people who could still remember the magical taste of their grandmother’s cooking.
Even the 29-year-old had a good time. He found he was much better at seating guests and fetching drinks than he was at insider trading.
And after dinner every night the old people put on a show. All the dinner guests were invited outside to watch the Colonel launch his flying machine and do a turn around the garden. Sometimes hemade it all the way around and back to the window and sometimes he crashed into the next door neighbour’s sycamore tree; either way it was always spectacular.
The only downside was, by the end of the week, Nanny Piggins had also made herself totally redundant. The Golden Willows Restaurant was a thriving independent business and she was back in a probation officer’s office, having only completed sixty-seven hours of community service.
‘Oh dear, Nanny Piggins,’ said the probation officer. ‘If you’re going to whittle away your 5000-hour community service requirement you are going to have to resist the urge to transform every institution I send you to into a huge profitgenerating organisation.’
‘I’m sorry,’ apologised Nanny Piggins. ‘I just can’t help myself. It comes from being so very good at everything.’
But the children were not at all sorry. They were happy to get their nanny back, at least for a short while, until the probation officer could find another suitable (or unsuitable) job for Nanny Piggins.
N anny Piggins had never been so bored in her life. When she agreed to chaperone the children’s school excursion as part of her community service, she had assumed they would be
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