Tiddley Tales

Far, far out of town, into the beautiful green countryside, over the lumpy green, grassy hills and into the Big Wide Plum Valley, just beside the Layzee River, nestling under white, fluffy clouds lies the little town of Tiddley. Tiddley-on-Layzee to give this lovely little town it’s full name. A town full of odd characters, laughing trees, bobbing boats, smiley faces, farty ponds, poo plop factories and thunderous frowns. A town where all the vegetables are happy and so are the cows, the horses are stupid and dogs don’t know they are dogs, cats do not exist, the fireman are all grinny and dim and all the policeman are too fat to get into their little police cars.

Let’s drop into Tiddley and see what’s happening, shall we? Let’s get in to our big dirty tractor and drive down the hill into the fat Plum Valley where you can see the Layzee river snaking off into the grassy green hills, the sunshine glistening on its surface like gold, the puffy clouds hanging over the town like big floating ice creams.

The first thing we see as we chumbly down the hill is old Marrow Mackie’s garage, where he sells diesel to the local bus and lorry drivers, petrol to all the little car owners in the town, repairs flat tyres, dips oil, wipes windscreens, sells sweets and maps to passing tourists and salesman and where the local policemen can hire his tiny back room for a sneaky afternoon nap at just £1 a time. What a bargain! It’s not easy being a mechanic when you’re a big, fat marrow and old Marrow Mackie has terrible trouble sliding under cars and lifting engines, which is why he only does buses and lorries, then leans back on his pumps wiping his big fat face with his big greasy hankie.

If we toot our horn as we pass, old Marrow Mackie may even stand up to stretch his old, wrinkly green back and give us a wave and a cheery smile through old, broken teeth, the poor old codger. He always smells of cars and petrol, but has a heart of gold. Or so he tells everybody while taking as much money as he can off them. Mad as a purple squirrel brush these days, but everybody loves him.

On we go, chumbling into town and then WHOA! There’s a red light, so we screech to a Hollywood stop at the traffic lights at the cup of T junction where we can turn right (if we were allowed) into Bogey Broccoli Farm, where they grow nothing but bogey broccoli, crabby cabbage, sprouts, mummy shouts and bad tempers. Can you imagine having to eat broccoli and cabbage every day!? URGH! So will we be turning right? No way, stupido.

If we turn left we have to run into the strangest neighbours in Tiddley, probably in the whole wide world, Mad Connie the Cow-woman and Sane Steve, the sausage maker. Now, Connie the Cow and Sausage Steve hate each other soooooo much, that they spit in each others milk and throw poo over their walls into each others gardens, especially on wash days. They are always at war. Connie puts up posters all over town saying how “Steve’s sausages are made with pooey meat and smell like feet – DON’T EAT THE FEET”. Steve taunts Connie’s cows by whispering naughty words to them and waving bread in their faces to turn their milk sour. Both Steve and Connie the Cow want to leave Tiddley, but neither want to be the first to lose face by moving first.

Let’s just go straight on once the lights are green and give these two loonies a miss. Ah, green go the Tiddley traffic lights and off we go again into Tiddley town. Now we can either go straight up the grassy green hill towards the bridge, past the old boathouse, home of Salty Sam the sly old spinach sailor, over the Layzee bridge and into the old, dull, smelly playground where the snails and the weeds rule and Baldy Bonkers Ben’s banana plantation or we can go around the river into Tiddley town itself. And what a town!

Where would you go first? The fat police station full of fat and farty policemen wobbling about losing everything and getting hot? The fire station where the pole is polished daily by the bored fireman before they run around town in their lovely red and shiny fire engine? The shops? The pub, the Tiddley Arms where the Landlord, Pepper Pete is always pleased to see and serve everybody and greet them with a big cheery, beery smile and a stout sandwich. As long as they’re not French, of course. The Tiddley residents have one thing in common, they all hate the French and everything French. And who can blame them when those snails are lurking just across the river ready to sliiiiiiide and sliiiiiiiime their way into their tasty vegetable patches while the Tiddley folk are all tucked safely up in bed. Sometimes, even their own!
None of the shops sell anything French in Tiddley, the pub will not sell any French beer or wine, the fat police will not drive Renault’s (even if they could get the big fat bellies into a car in the first place), no French fruit is allowed and they only eat chips and never fries. The cinema will not show anything French and garlic is COMPLETELY FORBIDDEN! Thank Heaven Bacon the blacksmith forges silver bullets or vampires would rule!

Other than that, Tiddley is lovely, especially at this time of year because it is almost time for the Tiddley Fair! Hoorraayyyyyyyyyyy!! Everybody loves the Tiddley Fair which is held every year in the grounds of Tiddley Hall, home of the very old and very flobby fat and very miserable Lord Tiddley. Lord Tiddley hated the Tiddley Fair and the fact that it always took place within his grounds, but the Fair had to be held there. It was the LAW and if Lord Tiddley banned the fair all the policemen would go to his mansion and sit on him until he changed his mind and went red and fainty under the WEIGHT! Everyone had a smashing time at the Tiddley fair! Even Sausage Steve and Connie the mad Cow would come and have a giggle. Games had to be played, tricks had to be played, food had to be gobbled, pies had to be gobbled or thrown, bets had to be placed and, in the annual Miss Tiddley competition, there were hearts to be won.

And it is this last part of our story that appeals the most to Tommy Tomato, for he is entering himself in the Vegetable of the year competition, the most important part of all the fair and he is hoping that in winning, he can also win the heart of the one that he adores, Alison Artichoke, the most beautiful veggie in town and favourite to win this years Miss Tiddley.
Tommy lived at the far edge of Tiddley with the other tomatoes on the road to Nutley, where all the nuts and seeds came from. In his little round tomato house, surround by the big laughing trees, Tommy had prepared furiously, screwing up his face and pinching his eyes closed to make himself grow bigger, holding his breath to make himself redder and giving himself a good, hard polish twice a day.

However, Tommy has a rival in love, the villainous, yet long and firm Cucumber Colin, a firm favourite with the Tiddley ladies and a cucumber with his eyes on Alison’s artichokes. Colin was from the rough end of town, the Cucumber patch on the other side of Baldy Banana Ben’s. Nobody liked the cucumbers, they were a nasty bunch, so proud of their hard green-ness and their popularity with Queens everywhere. Cucumber Colin wanted to end his days making cucumber sandwiches at Buckingham Palace, but he thought that a nice bit of tennis at Wimbledon would do just as well. Ohhhh those cucumbers! They always sneered at the rest of the townfolk, even the artichokes on Posh Hill. But Colin was a wily old dog, as well as being charming, handsome, thick and long. He was the biggest cucumber you’ve ever seen and all the ladies of Tiddley were bowled over by his good looks, charm and sheer size. He was so big and good looking that he only had to pay a visit to a lady in the town and she would give him a good polish for free! He didn’t have to work hard like poor Tommy.
Well, the day of the Fair was close and Tommy paid a visit to Posh Hill, to ask Alison’s father, arthritic Archie Artichoke, whether he might be able to take Alison for a walk along the Layzee (as Archie couldn’t get up the river anymore), then a quick one in the Tiddley Arms.

‘WHAT?’ screeched daddy Artichoke. ‘Certainly not, ayyy’ he bellowed, to Tommy’s red-faced shame and disappointment. Alison too was disappointed, but she was too posh and cool to show it. ‘You may walk around the artichoke grove and that is all, ayyyy’ he shouted, turning poor Tommy’s ears redder by the second and making his stiff old leaves quiver.

Alison ran out of the artichoke house and into the grove. She stopped and turned back to Tommy. ‘Ketchup’ she cried in a cool, posh way and ran into the grove. Tommy loved her and her silly jokes and set off in pursuit, although artichokes can run a lot faster than tomatoes, you know, unless they are going downhill, in which case tomatoes roll faster than snowballs, while artichokes bump and bobble like old jumpers.

They walked leaf in leaf through the grove. Tommy telling Alison how she would be Miss Tiddley, Alison telling Tommy how he would be Vegetable of the year. When they were quite alone, Alison kissed Tommy and ran off again back to artichoke house. Tommy flushed redder with excitement and tried to savour the moment, so he could think of it when he was being judged and be the reddest tomato anyone had ever seen. He had even been lying in the sun all day getting redder and redder and fresher and fresher and more tasty than chocolate.

Tommy set off after Alison, but was stopped dead in his tomato tracks as he saw Alison run down towards her house and straight into Cucumber Colin! The green cucumber cad! Look at him smarming up to daddy Artichoke, plying him with compliments and tizer and crisps and softening him up with smiles and charm. The cad! Will his dastardly mind stop at nothing???

Tommy was all a fluster. What could he do? Colin was good looking and cool as a cucumber always is and charming and smarmy and knew how to get around old vegetables with his olive oily charm and tips for the greyhounds. Tommy knew he was better, but he didn’t know why. He was not good looking. He was not that clever, but he was full and firm and red and fresh and tasty and most of all, he was a good tomato. And tomatoes are the truest and most loyal vegetables in England!
Tommy screwed up his red little face and thought as hard as he could.

He knew he was faster downhill than Colin, so he rolled himself down Artichoke hill faster than a hamster, shouting ‘BREAD AND BUTTER, BREAD AND BUTTER, BREAD AND BUTTER’ over and over again. At the sound of this bouncing tomato rolling towards him shouting BREAD AND BUTTER, Colin became all flustered and scared and threw himself behind Alison and old Archie.

‘Get them!’ he cried like a big fat coward. ‘Get them first, they’re much tastier than I am, they taste like love and I taste like bogies and sprouts’.

Archie and Alison looked down at Cucumber Colin in disgust as Tommy rolled gently to a stop. He had stopped shouting and made Colin look a cucumber fool with his greeny blubbing. Colin opened his eyes and peeked through his green fingers. ‘Get up you silly cucumber, ayyyy’ shouted Mr Artichoke and Colin got gingerly to his feet (which isn’t easy when you have green hair) and dusted himself down trying to look like a jolly giant. Alison smiled at Tommy and made him feel all funny inside, while old Archie put his leaf around Tommy and told Colin to ‘go away, get off my patch, ayyyy’.

Old Archie was a sly old artichoke, he knew his onions. They lived in the patch next door. Colin glared at Tommy and left, feeling stupid, but vowing to win Vegetable of the Year and squash Tommy flat.

‘Now then young Tommy, you’d better be running along ayyyyy’ said Archie and Tommy nodded, which is not an easy thing to when you are completely round.

‘Yes. I need a good polish anyway’ replied Tommy, breathlessly.

‘Aye, well win Veg of the Year, my lad and Alison here can polish you every night, ayyyy?’ he bellowed with a nudge in Tommy’s squidgy side and walked back to the Artichoke patch leaving Tommy and Alison to blush.

‘Come along, Alison. There’s plenty o’ time for necking when you’re Miss Tiddley ayyyy’ shouted old Archie and Alison scurried off after him, leaves bouncing deliciously and Tommy watched her until she was out of sight, then rolled happily home.

Tommy rolled swiftly down to the alley leading to the road, eager to get home and get cleaned up so he could give himself a long, slow polish and look forward to the Tiddley Fair. Just as he reached the alley however, Colin Cucumber appeared from behind the bins and blocked his way.

‘Well, well, well if it isn’t little Tommy Tittle Tattle, the soggy tomato’ he laughed. Tommy froze in his tracks like the bits that go crusty at the top of red sauce bottles and started to back up the alley. ‘Going somewhere, my little puree ponce?’ asked Colin, then shouted ‘BUMPKIN’ so loudly, that poor little Tommy’s leaves quivered.

As Tommy turned to run away, Big Bumpkin the Pumpkin appeared at the other end of the alley, blocking his escape. He was trapped!

‘Nowhere to run, Tommy boy’ cackled Colin, while Bumpkin ‘her-her-her’ed behind. Tommy was rooted to the spot, terrified, just like when he was a bud. ‘Only two days till the Tiddley Fair, Tommy’ whispered Colin as he closed in on poor Tommy. ‘And once we’re finished with you, you’ll won’t make a can of soup, never mind Vegetable of the Year’.

Tommy shrunk back against the bins and prepared himself for a pasting. ‘I’m going to be Vegetable of the year and then I’m going to marry Alison and everybody will forget all about you’ he laughed nastily. Tommy fell to the floor in horror and started crying. All he ever wanted was Alison and now he was going to lose her forever to a big, firm nasty cucumber and a thick pumpkin who would do anything Colin said, as long as he had him well hidden away until after Hallowe’en.
They closed in on poor little Tommy, Colin the callous Cucumber from one side, Bumpkin the big Pumpkin from the other and they were gonna squash him.

A few hours later, Tommy awoke in the dingy, damp alley, sore, bruised and bleeding tomato sauce all over the floor. Those cads Colin Cucumber and the mighty Bumpkin the pumpkin had certainly given him a going over he would never forget. He looked down at his once full and shiny loveliness and cried tomato tears. He would never win the competition for firmest veg now. Colin would win! The competition and Alison Artichoke's heart!
Poor Tommy dragged himself out of the dingy alley and out into the bright sunshiny street, where who happened to be standing by his Arty roller, berating beggars and idle fat policemen, but Mr Artichoke!

‘Get off my car, you lazy layabouts or I’ll get the parsnip cops onto you, ayy!’ he bellowed and the haricot hooligans legged it. He turned to get into his nice, big shiny artichoke car, when he saw Tommy staggering from the alley, all battered, bruised and beaten.

‘TOMMY!’ he cried and wobbled over to grab him before he rolled exhausted down Tiddley High Street. ‘What has happened to you, ayyy?’

Little Tommy tried his best to speak, tried hard to smile and wave to Mr Artichoke (because Tommy had been brought up nicely to smile and wave and say hello), but he was too exhausted after his bashing and passed out, rolling gently across the pavement to Mr Artichoke’s feet.

‘Quickly Alan! Move yourself, ayyy’ shouted Mr Artichoke and he and his faithful chauffeur dragged poor, beaten little Tommy into Mr Artichoke’s great, big green car and sped off as quickly as they could to Artichoke Manor.
The car raced back to Artichoke manor, whilst inside the car, Mr Artichoke started giving poor little Tommy mouth to mouth. And if anything is going to bring somebody back to life it’s a kisser full of artichoke!

Tommy coughed and spluttered and spat and wheezed as he came round, sniffing his little red nose into a wrinkle of disgust at the taste of Artichoke and old artichoke at that! He would soon change his mind if he and Alison got their way!

The big Artichoke motorcar screeched to a halt outside Artichoke Manor and poor little Tommy was half-led, half-dragged inside. Once inside, sitting on a big comfy sofa with a nice cup of tea and a biscuit, Tommy told all the Artichokes what had happened to him, how that horrid Cucumber Colin and Bumpkin the Pumpkin had beaten him up to stop him winning vegetable of the year.
The Artichokes all ‘ooh’ed and ‘NOOOO’ed and ‘well I never’ed as he told his tale of woe, then Mr Artichoke stood up proudly by the fireplace warming his credentials, gripped his lapels with both hands and bellowed ‘This dirty cucumber will not be allowed to get away with this! We will mend Tommy, patch him up as best we can and tell all the village what has happened!’

‘HURRAY!’ cheered the other artichokes with a gusto that brought tears to Alison’s eyes and a thump thump thumping inside Tommy.

Abigail and Alexander Artichoke immediately ran for the door and drove into the village so they could spread the word about Colin and Bumpkin’s evil actions, driving around in the big Artichoke car with the soft top shouting out from the back. ‘HEAR YE, HEAR YE! LOCAL BOY TOMMY TOMATO ATTACKED BY CUCUMBER GANG! WATCH OUT FROM VICIOUS CUCUMBER GANG! HEAR YE, HEAR YE!’

Meanwhile back at the house Adele Artichoke suggested patching Tommy up with ketchup and painting him with red paint.

‘WHAT!!’ bellowed big Mr Artichoke. ‘For the Tiddley vegetable of the year show? Have you lost your conkers, Adele?’

‘What?’ asked Adele surprised by puffing up his big chest and shouting as hard as he could until he felt the wax in his ears moving. ‘He’ll look better for it’.

‘No doubt he will child, but I will not permit any cheating in the vegetable of the year show! Not this year or any year, ayyy’.

‘Then how will we make Tommy all red and shiny and lovely and gorgeous and full again, daddy?’ asked Ailsa Artichoke, blushing as she gushed so girlishly over poor Tommy’s flagging redness.

Very easily my dear Ailsa . Young Alan will run into the village and get the fire brigade, tell them we have an emergency at the Manor and require their presence at once, ayyy’.

‘Ooh, ooh, can I ride back on the fire engine, daddy?’

Mr Artichoke nodded. ‘If they let you, young Alan, now run, ayyy’. He beckoned over his two youngest daughters as Alan ran screaming and whooping with joy out of the door.

‘Amy I want you to run Tommy a bath. Anna, I need you to go down to cook and get her to prepare a hot Russian soup and a Strawberry and Raspberry compote to boost young Tommy’s redness’.
‘Yes Daddy!’ they sang happily and ran off to attend to their chores.

‘Now Arthur, I know how much you enjoy red, so put your hanky back into your pocket and go up to the Beige House and find me Ray Ripperton, the Rubbing Rocket, we’ll need him’. Arthur shrugged and set off without a word. ‘And don’t spend all day there as usual, Arthur! The Show is in just 2 days time, ayyy!’

Mr Artichoke turned to his overburdened and tired wife. ‘Annabelle dear, is Scotty from Star Trek still here? He may have a trick or two up his sweaty sleeve’. Mrs Artichoke shook her head.
‘’I’m sorry dear, but he beamed up last night directly after supper’ she soothed as she stroked poor little Tommy’s leaves better. ‘He’ll be light years from here now’.

‘Darn it!’ cursed Mr Artichoke. Mrs Artichoke looked apologetic, but it wasn’t her fault Scotty left early. ‘You’d better pour the boy a glass of claret to keep him going, my sweet Annabelle’ he murmured. ‘Get me one while you’re at it’.

Mrs Artichoke nodded and turned to her one remaining son. ‘Get a bottle of good claret from the cellar please, Axeweildingmaniac’.

‘Yes mum’.

‘Then you can go and chop some wood for the fire if you want’.

‘Hurray! Thanks!’ he tore off in a glee of jumps and cheers.

‘Annabelle, you’d better help Tommy with his bath once he has finished his drink. Don’t want Alison getting carried away and emotional, do we, ayyy?’
‘Absolutely not, dear’ said Mrs Artichoke and lead Tommy to the bathroom for a good scrub and a little encouraging tenderness.

That evening as the Fennel Fire Brigade gently hosed down Tommy’s beaten skin, then followed his wash with a good hard polish with the very best fire brigade red polish. Tommy had been given a big red dinner of strawberries, redcurrents, tizer, red grapes, beetroot and cherries to plump him full of juicy redness.

The following morning Mrs Artichoke brought him a breakfast of strawberries and toast and jam and lots of nice hot tea, before she helped him have another bath, then Mr Artichoke gathered all his children around him while Mrs Artichoke had to have a little lie down.

Tommy had not slept well. Apart from dreaming of his painful meeting with Cucumber Colin and Bumpkin in the alley, there were lots of noises going on outside Artichoke Manor, lots of ‘AHHHH’s and ‘URRRRR’s and ‘over here Stan’s and ‘not there, you idiot’s and plenty of bangs and hammering and drilling and shouting and smashes and crashes and bashes as the workmen prepared for the Tiddley Fair the following day on the grounds of Artichoke Manor.

Suddenly there was a terrific racket and a fanfare of trumpets. Tommy got out of bed after his breakfast and went to the window. What a sight he saw! Bunting and balloons and coloured ribbons were spread all over the fields around Artichoke Manor, the gate was festooned with a huge colourful banner proclaiming THE ANNUAL TIDDLEY FAIR, there were clowns and cake stands and sweets and a hurdy gurdy Swede stand, where the hurdygurdy man made snacks and sang ‘Rutabaga man, Rutabaga’, there were rabbits playing on the carrot stand, Popeye making an appearance on the spinach stand, Russian dancers on the cabbage stand, a Belgian Sprouts stand, clowns, games, roll-a-penny, tombola, lucky dips, football goals and even a mushroom band playing, the Fun Guys!
Then he saw Cucumber Colin, strolling casually with his green hands slipped into his slender expensive suit pockets, followed by his drooling entourage of the younger cucumbers, turnips, eager young girls and of course, Bumpkin the Pumpkin.

Tommy shivered but was determined to make himself look as good as possible. He was also going to stay in Artichoke Manor until the last possible moment, he did not want Cucumber Colin knowing that he was well enough to take part in the competition. If Colin knew he was ready to take part, he might send the other cucumbers and Bumpkin to finish him off.

Tommy stood before the mirror and gave himself a final polish then went downstairs to join the Artichokes, who greeted him warmly and after being rounded up by Mr Artichoke, they went outside into the warm Tiddley sunnyshine to enjoy the Tiddley Fair.

‘Laydeeeeezz and Gennelmen… hello and welcome to the one hundred and seventy seventh annual Tiddley Fairrrrr…’ sang out Captain Arthur Parsnip , the local bigwig judge and all round microphone hogger.

‘Ahhhrrrr me hearties, I hopes yous are be having a lovely time and that yous all had some tea or fizzy pop from Ma Lemon’s juice stall and I can see that you have all been admiring Mrs Peach’s buns, I know I have! Woof woof!’ There were a few laughs and cheers, as little Miss Celery, the winner of last years vegetable of the year winner climbed the stage and waved to the assembled throng. ‘But now laydees and gennelmen, boys and girllllssss… its Vegetable of the Year time!’
HURRAY! Shouted the crowd and one by one the contestants climbed the stage. ‘There are 7 contestants and the first of these are….Paula Potato!’

HURRAY!

‘People say I am too fat to win the competition, but I say vote for me and you will get more of a champion than a thinking one. Thin one, I mean’.

‘Second iiiisss… Ivor Sprout’.

Silence.

‘I didn’t want to be in this competition in the first place, I thought I was going to ride on a camel’.

‘Third iiisss…Brenda Bean!’

HURRAY! ‘I’m hoping to win because my sister is due to have a baby today and I don’t know yet whether I’m going to be an uncle or an aunt’.
‘Fourth iiisss…Ginger Beer!’

HURRAY! ‘I want to win because I want to meet Arnold Shwarzenegger and be terminated’.

‘Fifth issss… Sally Sweetcorn!’

HURRAY! Yelled the crowd and ‘whoohoo!’ Sally smiled sweetly leaned in towards the microphone and giggled, ‘hohoho!’

‘Tell me Sally, why do you want to win vegetable of the year?’ slimed Captain Parsnip, smarming and sliding like an oily puddle over the stage.
‘Well Arthur’ she giggled as Captain Parsnip looked down and wiped his brow. ‘I want to help everyone know how sweet and delicious Sweetcorn can be!’ The crowd yelled HURRAY! once more, as Sally curtseyed. ‘I am so happy! I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your cheers, I am filled with humidity’.

In the wings Cucumber Colin shook his head and whispered to Bumpkin, ‘Beautiful but as thick as a cow pie’.

‘Sixth iiisss… Cucumber Colin’ yelled Captain Parsnip and Colin schmoozed onto the stage, spun in a pirouette and smiled smoothly at the crowd, as he took the microphone from the outraged and speechless Captain Parsnip.

‘People of Tiddley, you see before you your new Champion!’ Some cheered, some jeered, some continued to beer. Colin looked down at the four members of the voting team and smiled his warmest, sauciest smile. He had paid a personal visit to each of the four judges that week, Alice Asparagus, Claudette Courgette, Rita Radish and Olive Onion and each of them had plenty to thank him for.

With Tommy out of the way, he knew the title, and Alison’s hand, were his for the taking and that once they were married, all he had to do was to get Bumpkin to bump off old man Artichoke and spread his remains over Poo Sprout farm as organic fertiliser and he would rule Tiddley.
‘Take me to your hearts, ladies and gentlemen’ he shouted, then thought Or I will remove yours.
Captain Parsnip grabbed back the microphone and ordered Colin to join the line at the edge of the stage. He remembered Colin trying something similar last year. It was like déjà vu all over again. Colin took a step back, Captain Parsnip could be poisonous when handled badly, just like his cousin, Captain Hemlock. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, that completes this years contestants, as poor little Tommy Tomato has had to withdraw from the competition’.

Colin smiled and grinned like a nasty green snake, but suddenly Mr Artichoke strode out onto the stage and bellowed at Captain Parsnip. ‘Hold your pips there Parsnip, ayyy’. The crowd gasped. Like this, ‘AHHH!’

‘What is going on Mr A? I’m trying to run a competition here, not start a drama society’. Mr Artichoke looked off stage and beckoned a waving hand, then to a big CHEER from the crowd, little Tommy walked onto the stage, glowing red and beautiful.

‘Tommy!’ cried Captain Parsnip. Tommy grinned red and shiny. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, number seven, Tommy Tomatoooooo!’.

‘TOMMY! TOMMY! TOMMY!’ shouted the crowd and even Rita Radish blushed with excitement. It was a thrilling moment and an enchanting entrance by Tommy. Olive felt tears stinging her eyes, it was so emotional.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ screamed Colin, storming across the stage in fury, but he was stopped in his tracks by Bumpkin the pumpkin and pushed back. Colin stared angrily at everyone present.

‘Be quiet and stand still, you creeping vine, ayyy’ shouted Mr Artichoke. ‘Bumpkin has been taught the error of his ways by Chief Inspector Pea of the Tiddley constabulary and is now working as a deputy constable or face community service’.

‘Bumpkin, you traitorous dog!’ yelled Colin, but Bumpkin pushed him back into line and allowed Tommy to take the stage.

The crowd quietened down as Tommy took the mike and spoke to them. ‘Hello. You all know me, I am proud to be a Tomato, even prouder to be a Tiddley Tomato and you all know that nobody loves this town like I do, but there is one thing I love even more than Tiddley. One thing I love even more than being a Tomato’ the crowd had gasps and ‘corrrr’s and ‘blimey’s rippling all around it. What could Tommy love even more than Tiddley?

Tommy looked slightly off stage and saw her standing there, gazing adoringly up at him. ‘I love Alison Artichoke’.

HURRAYYYYYYYYYYYY shouted the crowd as hats and balloons and sticks and even cats and dogs were thrown into the air with the cheers. ‘And by winning this competition, I hope to win her heart and from there I aim to become Mayor of Tiddley and make our little town the best town in all the land!’

The crowd went bonkers, conkers, mad, bad and bananas. Cucumber Colin scowled furiously. He knew Tommy was the crowd’s favourite but he had one last trick up his tight, greensleeves.
Tommy handed the microphone back to Captain Parsnip and joined Colin on the end of the line. Colin kicked him and told him to move over. ‘I don’t want any horrible red on my lovely green skin’ he moaned. He was made of stern stuff, magnesium and copper particularly. Tommy didn’t any smelly green on him so moved over happily.
The votes were cast and counted and Rita Radish waved to Captain Parsnip. The crowd were milling about laughing, drinking, eating and waving buns at each other. Captain Parsnip tapped the microphone and called for order.

‘Ladies and gennelmennnn… I have the results in this envelope so would you please give a big cheer for this year’s third place…Brenda Bean!’ The crowd applauded politely as Brenda was given her prize, a ride on a camel. Ivor Sprout was so annoyed, he threw down his sash and stormed off the stage.

‘In second place gentlemen and laydeeessss…. Sally Sweetcorn!’ There were whistles and cheers mixed in with the applause as Sally sauntered onto centre stage, curtseyed and collected her prize, £50 pounds of munchin’ vouchers.

Captain Parsnip waved a golden envelope above his head and the crowd played along by all going ‘WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO’. Parsnip smiled and tore open the envelope. Alison Artichoke was brought onto the stage
‘And now boys and girls, this years Vegetable of the year iiiissss….’ Alison looked over at Tommy and blushed as he smiled at her, a great big red shiny smile that warmed her all over. Captain Parsnip looked down at the piece of paper in his hand and his smile collapsed, as an expected shimmer trembled through the crowd. This was the most exciting moment of the year! Captain Parsnip looked to the judges, then back at the piece of paper in his hands, then to the crowd, then spoke in a shocked whisper. ‘C…c… cucumber Colin’.

There was a deadly silence for a moment, then Cucumber Colin walked to the front of the stage and shouted ‘YES!’ as he punched the air with delight and took Alison Artichoke in his arms and kissed her, even though she tried to push him off. As soon as he let her go she wiped her lips really really hard with her hankie to get it off.
The crowd started to boo and began throwing cups and glasses and hats and balloons and cats and dogs onto the stage in anger and the policemen began to worry that the crowd would riot rather than accept Colin as their Champion.

Mr Artichoke grabbed the mike in anger as Colin went to the judges and kissed each one in turn, lingering longest on Rita Radish. ‘Radish, you rainbow minx!’ shouted Mr Artichoke, deafening the first four rows of the crowd.

Rita and Colin kissed and poked out their tongues at Mr Artichoke, inflaming the crowd further. ‘And as for you Olive, how could you countenance such an awful fabrication?’ demanded Mr A. Olive was lost for words and began to cry.
Cucumber Colin and Rita then walked back onto the stage, grabbed the cup and sash with TIDDLEY VEGETABLE OF THE YEAR written in bold, red letters on it and waved them over their heads in front of the crows. Tommy and Alison stared hopelessly at each other, but as Alison moved to comfort Tommy, Colin grabbed her and pulled her close to him.

‘No you don’t Alison Artichoke, you’re mine now’ he chuckled nastily as Alison tried to scream and pull away, but then fainted in Colin’s greasy green arms.

Just then old Mackie Marrow staggered onto the stage in his oily overalls and held up his hands in front of the crowd, grabbing the microphone from Colin and shouting to the crowd to listen to what he had to say.

‘Leave it Mackie’ shouted Colin. ‘I have Rita, I have Alison and I have the cup, I am vegetable of the year now and there is nothing you can do about it’ he laughed.

‘Not so fast, Cucumber!’ yelled Mackie and produced a piece of paper from his dirty, oily pocket.

‘Marrow, what the heck is going on here, ayyy?’ demanded Mr Artichoke, feeling his poor old heart going a little soft and squidgy with all the excitement.

Mackie waved the piece of paper around and yelled into the mike a little too loudly, as he was getting old, fat and deaf. ‘I have here a plan I found in Cucumber’s car, a plan for bribing judges of this very contest, namely Olive Onion, Rita Radish and Claudette Courgette to enable him to win this very competition, claim the hand of your daughter then steal your fortune!’
‘Ayyy! Ayyy!’ blustered Mr Artichoke angrily.
‘You can’t prove a thing, marrow’ spat Cucumber, sarcastically. ‘Get back to your dirty little oily hole’.

Tommy walked disconsolately over to Marrow and gently took his arm. ‘Forget it, Mack. It doesn’t matter why the judges picked him, all that matters in the rules is that they did pick him, there is nothing we can do about it’ he mumbled sadly. Alison awoke at the sound of the voice of her heart’s desire.

‘He’s right, Marrow’ interrupted Mr Artichoke. ‘Cucumber has fooled us all, he may have cheated, but he has cheated within the rules, there is nothing we can do’.

‘No daddy, no, no’ she sobbed. ‘You can’t allow me to marry this… this.. stinky green brute’.
The crowd booed. Mr Artichoke took his weeping daughters hand and kissed it. ‘My darling daughter, I have no choice’.

The crowd jeered. Mackie Marrow then pulled a book from inside his capacious overalls. ‘Wait one cotton picking minute’ he shouted. ‘I have information that means Cucumber can never be vegetable of the year. It is information that will shock you all, especially the women and girls of Tiddley’. There was a hush over the entire Fair.

‘The ‘ladies man’ act is just that! An act!’
‘What do you mean, Mackie?’ asked Tommy. Mackie Marrow looked at Tommy, then Mr A, then poor heartbroken Alison, then finally and dramatically pointed to Cucumber Colin.

‘Cucumber Colin is….. a fruit!’ There was a gasp so big it sounded like this, ‘GASP!’

Cucumber Colin looked furious and tried to make a run for it, but the massive Tiddley crowd grabbed him and sliced him into pieces there and then, while Rita blushed in shame and silently slipped out the back.

Mr Artichoke recovered the cup and sash and took the mike from Captain Parsnip. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, there has never been a Tiddley Fair like this one and never before has the vegetable of the year become vacant on the very day it was won, therefore we have no rules governing how to elect a new vegetable’. There was a happy murmur from the crowd, therefore before you dissipate to enjoy the free bar…’ There was a bug HURRAY!

‘I suggest we pass the vote to you, the people of Tiddley. Who should be vegetable of the year?’ Alison and Tommy looked at each other in excited expectation. There was a moment of silence, then the noise from the crowd was deafening.

‘TOMMY! TOMMY! TOMMY!’ there were cheers and Alison and Tommy raced together, bumping each other in joy.

The next day, the field was cleared of the Tiddley Fair and Alison and Tommy were married in front of the whole village after Cucumber Colin had been patched back together and taken to the Tiddley Jail on the back of Mr Artichoke’s camel. Everyone in the village came out to see him taken in custody, except Ivor Sprout.

Alison and Tommy lived together in the lodge at the edge of the Artichoke estate, by the Layzee river and lived happily ever after. Especially Tommy, as now he was married to Alison, he never had to polish himself again.

The End….