Mat Waugh - Cheeky Charlie Box Set Books 1-3 (Cheeky Charlie, Bugs and Bananas, The King of Chaos)

Before you get going with this three-book Charlie feast, Ive got more news: theres another book you can have, free.

Its a mini-book called Festival which is a silly way to describe it because its not very mini at all. Its quite a long story actually because Charlie is pretty outrageous. But never mind the silly title its great, and Ill tell you how to get it at the end.

But lets make sure you enjoy the stories first.

Here we go!

H ello. My name is Harry. Im eight years old but Ill be nine in only ten months. Im quite clever and quite normal. I can tell the time. I can tie my shoe laces. I dont have two heads or anything. My hair is long and wavy, although it sometimes gets tangly. My Dad says its like straw in the morning and honey in the evening which is half-rude and half-nice. Typical Dad.

When the sun shines I get freckles on my nose. When I was little I didnt like them. I stood on the chair in the bathroom to look in the mirror. I rubbed them really hard with a flannel until my face was red and sore. I thought Id got rid of them for a while, but then my face stopped being red and they came back. Mum came in and found me crying.

Whats the matter, Harry? she asked.

Ive got spots, I sobbed, and pointed to my nose. My cousin Freya complains about her spots whenever she comes for a sleepover although I can never see them.

Mum smiled which I didnt think was very nice because I was upset. But then she gave me a cuddle, which felt better. Theyre not spots, theyre summer sprinkles, she said, and they make you look gorgeous.

And then I started to think about sprinkles: sprinkles on cakes, sprinkles on fairies, and the water sprinkler in the garden. And I decided that having sprinkles on your face is a good thing.

Ive just had a thought. You do know Im a girl, dont you? People are always getting it wrong and it makes me quite cross. In fact my uncle Mike calls me Prince Harry just to annoy me. He tells me to thump him really hard if I dont like it so I do, right in his tummy. But he just laughs until I jump on him and scream at him to stop.

My real name is actually Harriet, but everyone calls me Harry. Mum says that I could call myself Hattie if I wanted. But I think that sounds silly so I dont.

Actually not everyone calls me Harry; Granny always calls me Harriet. Whenever anyone talks about my name she shakes her head so that her curly white hair wobbles and she makes a funny sucking noise. Theres a crazy story I want to tell you about Granny but Mum has just reminded me that this book is supposed to be about Charlie, my little brother. So let me tell you about him straight away.

Maybe you have a little brother. Mum says you might, but I bet hes not like Charlie. Ill explain.

Do you have a board at school where they put WOW words? You know, the interesting words that the teachers say you should use in your stories instead of nice? We do. Its like Charlie has rubbed himself all over with a glue stick and then rolled along that board because lots of them are perfect to describe him. Words like these:

But there is another way to describe him, and you know it already because its what Ive decided to call this book: Cheeky Charlie. Thats what Dad calls Charlie all the time: when hes shouted something rude, when hes done something naughty, when he wants him to budge up on the sofa, or just when hes ruffling Charlies hair.

He tried that once with me and I went crazy. Alright Hattie, keep your hair on, he said, and that made Mum laugh really loud which made me even angrier. So I stomped upstairs and played on his iPad without telling him, just to teach him a lesson.

But Charlie really is very cheeky, and thats what my book is about: all the naughty things that he has done. My teachers say that its not nice to tell tales, but you dont know Charlie, so you cant get him into trouble.

But if you ever meet my Mum, dont tell her Ive been a secret blabber-mouth, because then Ill get into trouble. Do you promise? Proper promise? Pinky promise?

Brilliant, because Ive got loads to tell you. Some of it happened ages ago, some of it happened just last week. Some of it is funny, or sad, or even disgusting, because thats what Charlie can be. It might even make you a little bit sick, so get ready.

* * *

I once asked Dad to tell me about the naughtiest thing he had ever done.

Me? he said. I was an angel. I worked hard, did my homework on time, tidied my bedroom, went to bed early, got up late. Not like your mother. She was a right tearaway.

I looked at Mum who was sitting on the sofa, making her eyes roll around in her head and pulling a funny face.

Dont believe him, Harry, said Mum. Heres what I know about your Dad. He ate his brothers birthday cake. He was sick on the dog. He almost crashed your Grandads car. He was a right handful.

Handful of what? I asked.

Trouble, said Mum.

Next door, where Charlie was watching telly, there was a crash.

Charlie? Are you OK? shouted Mum, getting up off the sofa.

Yes Mummy! shouted Charlie. I just falldid off the table.

Fell, Charlie, not falldid, shouted Mum back. She sat back down. Now you know where Charlie gets it from.

Are you talking about my little Charlie? said Dad. Hes a goodie two-shoes like me. Although I wouldnt let him drive my car. Or let him near a dog. Or my birthday cake, come to think of it.

I think youre safe there, Dad, I said. Hed be scared away by all the candles.

Oi! said Dad, and he threw a cushion at me. It bounced off my arm onto the table and nearly knocked Mums mug of tea over, the one with Top Teacher written on it.

Mum looked at Dad and raised her eyebrows, making her forehead all wrinkly.

Harrys arm was in the wrong place, grumbled Dad. It wasnt my fault.

Look, I havent got long today, because Im going for a haircut soon and I always get sweets so I dont want to miss it. But come back and Ill tell you lots of stories about what Charlie has done. And theyre a lot, lot worse than you think.