Buch lesen: «The Barry Loser Series»

First published in Great Britain 2017 by Egmont UK Ltd, The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

Text and illustration copyright © Jim Smith 2017 The moral rights of Jim Smith have been asserted.

ISBN 978 1 4052 8397 7

eISBN 978 1 7803 1776 2

barryloser.com www.egmont.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Stay safe online. Any website addresses listed in this book are correct at the time of going to print. However, Egmont is not responsible for content hosted by third parties. Please be aware that online content can be subject to change and websites can contain content that is unsuitable for children. We advise that all children are supervised when using the internet.

First e-book edition 2017

‘Cock-a-doodle-doooooo!’ screeched my baby brother, Desmond Loser the Second, from his bedroom next to mine.

It was 6.17am on Saturday morning, not that I minded because . . .

‘IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!’ I cried, jumping out of bed and running downstairs doing an excitement blowoff on every step.

‘Happy birthday, my darling little Snookyflumps!’ cooed my mum, cuddling me into her bright red fluffy dressing gown.

‘Thanks Mumsy Wumsy!’ I smiled, wriggling out of her cuddle and staring at the ginormous pile of presents sitting on our kitchen table.

In the middle of the pile sat a huge box covered in shiny silver paper.

‘Fandabby-keelness*!’ I cried, doing a bum-wiggle dance until my pyjama bottoms fell down.

* Keel = cool

I knew exactly what was inside the box - a SHNOZINATOR 9000!

I twizzled one of my eyeballs over to the present list I’d stuck on the fridge door nineteen and three-quarter weeks before.

It said:

My mum spotted me looking at the list. ‘Ooh that reminds me,’ she said. ‘What did you do at school yesterday?’

‘Erm . . . answer boring questions mostly,’ I said, giving myself a mini salute for being so funny.

My mum did a face like a kangaroo eating a hedgehog and I dived into the presents, grabbing a squidgy jumperish-feeling one.*

* I was saving the SHNOZINATOR 9000 till last.

‘Hmmm . . . let me guess - a yellow hoodie?’ I smiled, ripping it open. I’m famous for wearing yellow hoodies, in case you didn’t know.

Inside the wrapping paper was a white polo neck jumper.

‘Thought it’d make a change from all your yellow hoodies!’ chuckled my dad.

‘Plus it’s just like the one Wolf Tizzler wears in his adverts!’ said my mum, and I did a bday eye-roll because I’m comperleeterly bored of hearing my mum go on about Wolf Tizzler the whole time.

Wolf Tizzler is the annoying child genius who invented the ‘ZOOM-E-BROOM’, a new kind of broom with microscopic wheels on the ends of its bristles.

Wolf Tizzler’s always on TV doing adverts about how the microscopic wheels are supposed to make the ZOOM-E-BROOM go faster when you’re sweeping up.

I think my mum thinks Wolf Tizzler would be the most perfect son ever.

‘Thanks Mum, thanks Dad,’ I said, not that I really wanted a white polo neck jumper.

‘Don’t thank us, it’s from Desmond!’ said my dad.

‘Thanks Desmond,’ I said, even though I knew there was no way my baby brother had gone into a Feeko’s supermarket and bought me a Wolf Tizzler polo neck jumper all on his own.

I reached down and patted him on the head.

‘Me got a biskit!’ shouted Desmond, who was sitting on the floor with his bum squidged into a potty.

He took a bite of the dinosaur- shaped biscuit he was holding. ‘Me not want biskit!’ he spluttered, spraying bits of biscuit all over the kitchen tiles.

‘No probbles!’ said my mum, grabbing her ZOOM-E-BROOM and sweeping the crumbs into a dustpan. ‘Thanks to its microscopic bristle-wheel technology, the ZOOM-E-BROOM is up to ninety per cent faster than the next-fastest broom on the market!’ she smiled.

‘Isn’t that what that Rolf Twizzler kid says in his adverts?’ said my dad.

‘Ooh, he’s such a clever boy!’ cooed my mum.

‘I’m clever too!’ I said, yanking my white polo neck over my head. ‘Look - I can hardly get this jumper on what with my ginormous brain and everything!’

‘More like your ginormous nose!’ chuckled my dad, even though his nose is WAY bigger than mine.

After that I opened all my other presents - apart from the huge shiny silver one with the SHNOZINATOR 9000 inside. This is what I got . . .

1. A bright pink piggy bank from my Granny Harumpadunk:

2. Wolf Tizzler’s autobiography, HOW TO BE A GENIUS LIKE ME, from my mum:

3. One of those build-your-own circuit board kits from my dad:

‘Brillikeels,’ I said, pretending I liked them all even though:

1. I don’t have any money to put in a piggy bank

2. Who wants to read a boring old book about a loserish child genius who loves brooms?

3. There was no way I’d be wasting my time building a stupid circuit board when I had a SHNOZINATOR 9000 to play with!

You’re probably wondering what a SHNOZINATOR 9000 is by now. It’s this keel new gaming helmet that makes you feel like you’ve been transported to Shnozville.

Shnozville is where Future Ratboy lives, by the way.

Future Ratboy is my favourite TV show. It’s all about this keel kid who’s been zapped millions of years into the future and transformed into a half- boy, half-rat, half-TV.

‘Oh. My. Keelness!’ I said, ripping open the huge shiny silver present. Inside was a white cardboard box with ‘SHNOZINATOR 9000’ written on it in futuristic letters.

‘A SHNOZINATOR 9000! Thanks, Mummypoos. Thanks, Daddypoos!’ I said, lifting it out of the box and slotting it over my head.

Nothing happened.

‘Er, why in the unkeelness aren’t I in Shnozville?’ I said, my nose beginning to droop.

‘You’ve got to charge it up first, Barry!’ chuckled my dad, pulling a mile-long cable out of the box and plugging it into the wall.

‘Oh yeah!’ I said, and my mum did a face that looked like she thought Wolf Tizzler probably would’ve worked that out.

I lifted the SHNOZINATOR 9000 off my head and plugged it into the other end of the cable and a little green triangle lit up on the side.

‘SHNOZINATOR 9000 CHARGING!’ bleeped a robotty voice.

‘Time for a bday wee!’ I said, plonking the SHNOZINATOR 9000 down on the kitchen table and walking off all happily towards the toilet.

‘Ahhh, that’s what I call a fantastikeels bday wee!’ I said, strolling out of the toilet. ‘Now, let’s see if my SHNOZINATOR 9000’s charged up!’

I walked into the kitchen and froze.

My SHNOZINATOR 9000 wasn’t on the table where I’d left it. Instead, there was a trail of white electric cable stretching from the plug socket through the archway into the living room.

I followed the cable into the living room and froze again.

‘Waaahhh!’ I screamed.

Desmond Loser the Second was sitting on the carpet in front of the telly, his bum squidged into my upside- down SHNOZINATOR 9000 like it was his potty.

He was watching his favourite TV show, Clowny Wowny, and his face was very red. Desmond’s face being very red is never a good thing.

‘Operation Get Desmond’s Bum Out of My SHNOZINATOR 9000 Before He Does a Poo in It!’ I screamed, flying through the air like Future Ratboy.

I scooped Des out of the SHNOZINATOR 9000 and plonked him on the sofa then twizzled round and stared down into my helmet.

The good news was, he hadn’t done a poo. The bad news was, he’d done a wee.

The worst thing about your little brother doing a wee into your brand new SHNOZINATOR 9000 before you’ve even managed to charge it up is that WEE COMPERLEETERLY BREAKS A SHNOZINATOR 9000.

‘Oh Barry,’ said my mum, cuddling me into her dressing gown for the second time that morning.

I wriggled out of my mum’s dressing gown and looked at the little green triangle on the side of the helmet. It flickered, turned red, then fizzled out.

‘Can you fix it, Dad?’ I whimpered, feeling like a little light had fizzled out inside my belly.

‘Hmmm, not sure I can Barry,’ said my dad, peering into the SHNOZINATOR 9000. His face peered back up at him, reflected in the pool of wee.

‘Can we take it back to Feeko’s then?’ I said. ‘We could swap it for one that hasn’t got wee all in it!’

My dad looked at me the way I look at my best friend Bunky when I feel sorry for how tiny his brain is.