by Roddy Hotgruffs.
Little Miss Trumpy lived in Windy Land. She lived in a little brown house called Windy Cottage, which stood next to a wood. Little Miss Trumpy’s home was very tidy, but nobody ever saw how tidy it was because the cottage was not particularly well ventilated, and of course ventilation is essential when the occupant is somebody like Little Miss Trumpy.
Each morning, Little Miss Trumpy would make herself a cooked breakfast – eggs, bacon, beans, toast – which set her up for the day.
It also set her off for the day, too...
One morning, Little Miss Trumpy ate a little bit too much breakfast, and it was not long before she began to live up to her name. Unfortunately the ventilation problem in Windy Cottage had become so acute that, when Little Miss Trumpy boffed, her poor home could take it no more. There was a loud crash, a lot of smoke and when the smoke finally cleared, Little Miss Trumpy found herself surrounded by rubble.
"Oh, deary dear!" she exclaimed to herself. "Whatever shall I do now? Where am I going to live?"
Little Miss Trumpy decided to ponder her predicament while taking a walk in the woods. So she set off into the trees, and she walked...and walked...and walked...until eventually she emerged from the woods and found herself to be somewhere she had never been before.
Little Miss Trumpy had walked right out of Windy Land!
Can you guess where she was? That's right! She had walked all the way to a land where people like you and I live - she had walked to Blighty!
"Excuse me - where am I?" she asked a portly fellow sat on a bench.
At first the man was very chuffed that Little Miss Trumpy had come over to talk to him, but he soon caught a whiff of her distinctive odour, which was too much for him to bear. He cried the name of the village over his shoulder as he ran away to the pub. Honeysomething.
Little Miss Trumpy was very taken with Honeysomething, so in no time at all she got herself on the housing list and before long she was allocated a new home.
Little Miss Trumpy never returned to Windy Land. These days she resides on one of the main roads into Honeysomething, at number 8.
As for her wind problem, well, the food we eat here in Blighty agrees with her a lot more than the grub she noshed back in Windy Land. That said, if you ever find yourself in the village of Honeysomething, you might want to think twice before knocking on the door of number 8.
This story is true as far as it goes. She became politically active in 2007 and is now seeking election as the Mayor of Honeysomething, with a wind tunnel being the main promise of her campaign. Sadly, there are unsubstantiated reports of her accepting bribes from Phalesitock Hunderhound, who was Paddy McGinty's goat in a play last srping, or at least the back two legs. Hunderhound has served prison time as a drugs pusher, so his connection with the lady in question is not good, this close to the election. They have been seen playing tennis together. Not good.
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