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Mr Tickle II
 

More than thirty years after Mr Tickle first sent shockwaves through the literary community with his 1976 book Mr Tickle, he's back with a brand new adventure.

And you can read it right now!

It was a bitingly cold and frosty morning in Mister Man Land and Mr Tickle was enjoying a good kip. Suddenly, his alarm went off.

“What the hell is that!?” Mr Tickle yelled in a semi comatose drawl. Mr Tickle wasn’t a morning person. He lay blinking uncomprehendingly at the blurry mass of red light from his digital alarm. He looked across the bed at the snoozing form of Little Miss Chatterbox. Small mercies - at least she’s still asleep, he thought.

6.51am. It was time to get up and get ready for work.

 

Cantankerously, Mr Tickle sat at his breakfast table eating his boiled egg and drinking a hot cup of tea. A drab and paradoxical happiness began to emanate from his belly as the hot food warmed him.

He tried to cut off the top of his egg with his hand. “Ow!” He yelled out loud. Mr Tickle had got his right arm caught in between the struts on his staircase again. Just that minute, do you know what happened?

That’s right. The doorbell rang.

 

Mr Tickle’s free left arm intuitively weaved its way through the kitchen, under the table, around the microwave and past the bins, and out into his reception room. Twisting the knob, the door swung ajar and the beaming face of Mr Noisy entered. He’d come to give him a lift to work.

“HELLO MR TICKLE!” Mr Noisy shouted.

“Yeah hi Bill,” Mr Tickle replied rubbing his gashed right arm forlornly.


 

Quick as a flash, Mr Tickle got into Mr Noisy’s backfiring little car and they were away, swerving viciously through the lanes towards town.

Mr Tickle tried to cheer himself up by trying a little mischief. Quick as a flash, Mr Tickle’s right arm wrapped its way around Mr Noisy’s face, while his left hand pressed down hard on the accelerator.

“MR TICKLE!” Mr Noisy bellowed, “YOU’LL BE THE DEATH OF US!” as he wrestled to keep the car on the road.


 

At last the little car pulled up outside the office. Mr Tickle worked with Mr Noisy in a call centre.

Mr Noisy loved it in the call centre. It was the perfect job for someone so loud. “BUY MY WINDOWS” he’d hollow down the line to terrified recipients. Mr Noisy was on his last warning.

But for poor Mr Tickle working in the call centre was not such fun. Oh no.

 

To help pass the time, Mr Tickle liked to play jokes on his colleagues.

“Good morning” The office manager said pleasantly as Mr Tickle arrived. “That’s five minutes late, don’t let it happen again,” he added jovially.

It was the perfect time for mischief.
 

Mr Tickle sat himself down in his chair and booted up his computer. He looked across and he saw Mr Messy at his desk opposite him. Do you think he could possibly have had a clean desk? Of course he couldn’t! Empty beer cans and crisp packets lay strewn across his skewed desk, the chair lying on the floor as Mr Messy knelt with his chin resting against the desk.

Mr Messy hadn’t shaved in days.

Mr Tickle grinned and chuckled to himself. Can you guess what happened next?

Can you? That’s right; Mr Tickle’s arms began to extend like electrical wires behind the back of Mr Messy’s desk. And before he knew what was going on, Mr Messy found himself at the business end of two simultaneous left and right hooks.

The office was filled with the smiling faces of colleagues happily chatting away to customers on their telephones. Mr Tickle smiled mischievously. Surreptitiously, he swept his two arms around the quarters of the office, unplugging phones from their jacks as he went, like a naughty tidal wave of tomfoolery.

Mr Tickle chuckled to himself. But he still had 50 calls to make before he could go for his morning tea break. So he sat back and set about the task, his massive arms resting menacingly on the receiver of his phone.
 

Finally, with his calls made, Mr Tickle ambled towards the staff room for his cup of tea. He spied his friendly manager by the coffee machine. Time for more mischief, he thought. And do you know what? There was!

Walking up to the manager, Mr Tickle greeted him. “Hello there,” he said. “Lovely morning”. He picked up the freshly boiled kettle and poured scolding hot water all over the manager’s trousers.

“Ow!” The manager said unhappily. “Get out Tickle, and don’t come back!” Mr Tickle chuckled to himself.

What a morning of mischief it had been!


 

Mr Tickle put the kettle down and strode out into the cold winter outside. He decided to head to the coffee shop in search of the mid-morning drink he was yet to have.

The coffee shop was quite far up the road, so Mr Tickle tried to hitch a lift. And do you know, as luck would have it a passing motorist was kind enough to stop.

The motorist marvelled at the man with the longest arms she’d ever seen.


 

Just before they reached the coffee shop, Mr Tickle decided to play a trick on the motorist. Swiftly, he began to grope her inappropriately with his long arms.

The motorist looked sad. “Stop that!” she said, and stopped the car. Poor old Mr Tickle had to walk the rest of the way.

Poor Mr Tickle.


 

To cheer himself up, Mr Tickle decided to get a bite to eat. He walked down the high street towards Mr Baker’s Breadshack. Mr Baker was an old friend of Mr Tickle’s.

“Hello there, Mr Tickle,” said Mr Baker. Mr Tickle was looking at a pile of sticky buns on the counter. His licked his lips. But then he remembered. Because he was naked, he didn’t have his wallet with him. Poor old Mr Tickle.

 

“What can I do for you today then?” Mr Baker asked nicely.

“Oh nothing thanks. Have you seen today’s paper?” Mr Tickle asked. Mr Baker turned round to fetch his paper. And do you know what Mr Tickle did next? That’s right, he stole some sticky buns.

Imagine that!

 

Mr Tickle sauntered hastily out of Mr Baker’s shop and headed to the park to eat his plunder. He found a nice comfortable park bench and sat down.

Sitting next to him was a very blissful Mr Happy. Mr Happy greeted Mr Tickle warmly as he slouched back sleepily on the bench, his reddish eyes half open as he relaxed, enjoying the warm feeling of the afternoon. Because he seemed to be particularly partial to sticky buns, Mr Tickle agreed to share.
 

To pass the time, Mr Tickle spent the rest of the afternoon entertaining Mr Happy: surprising swans by picking them up by their necks while they nested on the riverbank

Once all the swans had fled the park, a tired Mr Tickle dropped into a happy slumber. What a busy day it had been!

For the rest of the afternoon, Mr Tickle and Mr Happy enjoyed dosing, intoxicated by the fresh air of the park.

In the evening, Karma Comeupance, the park-keeper, was closing the park for the night. Just as he was leaving, he saw Mr Tickle, still asleep.

“Hello, what do we have here?” He smiled. As Mr Tickle was now trespassing on Mr Men Land property, he tied Mr Tickle’s arms to some railings and set off to inform the police department of the intrusion.


 

And do you know what happened next?

That’s right. Mr Tickle was arrested and spend the night with his arms tied to the bars of a police cell.

Poor Mr Tickle!