only way you’re getting that cake,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘is by doing as you’re told.’
The men were soon out on the training ground, standing beneath a 15 metre rope.
‘We can’t climb that, it’s too high,’ complained Peregrine.
‘You don’t have to climb it,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘You are welcome to stay here on the ground if you like. But I have stationed Derrick and the cake on the platform at the top.’
Derrick leaned over the edge of the platform and waved a slice of cake.
‘So if you want some cake you’d better get up there,’ said Nanny Piggins.
The men all rushed forward and fought over who was going to get first go, which actually gave them all a good, practical, half-hour lesson in hand-to-hand combat training before the first soldier even had a go.
Eventually, Peregrine, who had a particular knack for noogies, won out, took hold of the rope and started climbing. Now, climbing a rope is very difficult under the best of conditions. The rope wiggles, your arms get achy and the skin on your fingers gets terribly roughed up. It’s hard to hold on, let alone climb upwards. But it just so happens that Nanny Piggins had made it especially difficult by smearing golden syrup all over the rope. True, the syrup did make the rope sticky, which helped a little. But it also made the rope slimy, which did not help at all. Plus, the syrup made the rope very attractive to bees. So Peregrine was only a metre off the ground when a bee started buzzing around his head. He panicked, let go and landed on his bottom.
The other men surged forward to have a try, and try they did, all morning, but not one of them got further than a couple of metres off the ground.
‘This is ridiculous,’ complained Vincello. ‘It’s impossible. No-one can climb that.’
‘Really?’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Then watch this.’
Nanny Piggins grabbed the rope and climbed up it so quickly it was as though she had a jet pack installed under her dress. (She did not, she was just good at climbing rope.) Soon she was standing on the platform looking down at the soldiers.
‘And now,’ announced Nanny Piggins, ‘I am going to eat the cake.’
‘But you promised that to us,’ complained Thor.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I shall eat it very slowly. If you get up here quickly enough, I shall share it with you.’
The men launched into action.
‘We’ll never get up there individually,’ said Vincello. ‘Our hands are all too sore. And Crevasse’s head has swollen up from being stung by a bee. The only way we’ll get up there is if we work as a team and form a human pyramid.’
And that is what they did. They organised themselves into rows, climbed up on each other’s shoulders, building a higher and higher structure with their own bodies until Thunder (the smallest and lightest soldier) was able to grab hold of the platform and pull himself up by his fingertips, just in time to see Nanny Piggins pop the last slice of cake in her mouth.
‘Well done,’ she said with a muffled voice because her mouth was so full of cake. ‘Excellent teamwork. You’re improving.’
And so the training regimen continued. Every morning Nanny Piggins would force the soldiers out of bed with another brutal training exercise, fuelled by the promise of cake if they succeeded. She got them crawling underneath barbed wire by dragging cupcakes on strings in front of them; scaling cliff faces by throwing Madeira cake off first; and she got them running the obstacle course in record time by sticky-taping an exploding coffee cake to the top of the last obstacle.
But on Friday morning things did not go so smoothly. Nanny Piggins entered the barracks banging her saucepan at 4 am, but none of the men got out of bed. They did not even look up.
‘Go away,’ said Vincello.
‘Perhaps you’ve overtired them,’ worried Boris.
‘Perhaps,’ agreed Nanny Piggins, ‘but we’ll soon fix that. Today I’m strapping a sticky date
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