For David ~ D R

  For Cameron and Ben ~ A M

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 Fame!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  2 Fishy!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  3 Outlaw!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  Collect all the Dirty Bertie books!

  Copyright

  Bertie plodded downstairs. He could hear his parents talking in the kitchen.

  “That was Miss Lavish from the drama group on the phone,” said Dad. “She says a company are looking for boys to come to an audition.”

  “For a play?” said Mum.

  “No, it’s something on TV,” said Dad.

  TV? Bertie skidded into the kitchen. He’d always wanted to be on TV and this could be his big chance!

  “TV? Where? When?” he gabbled.

  Dad groaned. He hadn’t realized Bertie had been listening.

  “This Saturday,” he said. “But before you ask, I’m working so I can’t take you.”

  “But it’s TV!” said Bertie. “I’d be on TV!”

  “I’m sure they’ll get hundreds of boys applying,” said Mum.

  “Yes, but no one like ME!” argued Bertie.

  “No, probably not,” admitted Mum.

  “Anyway, we don’t know what it’s for,” said Dad. “It might just be a schools programme.”

  “Well I go to school, I’d be perfect!” said Bertie. “Pleeease!”

  “But who’s going to take you?” asked Mum. “I can’t. Suzy’s got a dance class.”

  “I’ve got to go, I can’t miss this!” wailed Bertie.

  Mum had an idea. “What about Gran? I suppose she might take him?”

  “She might,” said Dad.

  “YESSSSSS!” yelled Bertie, dancing round the room. “I’m going to be on TV!”

  Gran thought a TV audition sounded thrilling. She said she’d be delighted to take Bertie. So on Saturday morning they joined a long queue of boys and their parents at Central Studios. Mum was right – Bertie wasn’t the only boy who wanted to be on TV. He scowled at his rivals, who were all dressed in their best clothes. Their faces were scrubbed clean and their hair shone like sunlight.

  Gran frowned at Bertie. “What’s that on your face?” she said. “It looks like jam.”

  Bertie wriggled away as she tried to wipe it off with a tissue.

  Gran sighed. Bertie looked as grubby and scruffy as ever.

  “I wonder what sort of part it is,” she said. “Maybe they’ll want you to sing.”

  “Let’s hope not,” grunted Bertie. People usually covered their ears when he sang. But he did have acting experience. Last Christmas he’d played a dog in the musical Oliver! Everyone said it was a brilliant performance – apart from the bit when he’d brought down the scenery, but that could have happened to anyone.

  Two hours later, it was finally Bertie’s turn to audition. They were shown into a room to meet Amy the director and her assistant, Paul.

  “So, who have we got next?” asked Paul, checking his list. “Benny?”

  “Bertie,” said Bertie.

  “What kind of TV show is it?” asked Gran excitedly.

  “It’s an advert actually,” explained Paul.

  An advert! Bertie thought he’d be brilliant – he knew loads of adverts off by heart! And if it was an advert for sweets or chocolate he was willing to eat loads of them.

  “I’ve done acting,” he said. “I played a dog.” He stuck out his tongue and panted, doing his best dog impression.

  “Very good,” said Amy. “But what we want is a boy who can be himself on camera.”

  “I can be myself,” said Bertie. He was himself all the time – although usually it got him into trouble.

  “Great,” said Amy. She noticed Bertie’s jam-stained face and wild hair. “Actually, you might suit the part,” she said. “You’re not like all the others we’ve seen today. You don’t mind getting wet, I suppose?”

  Bertie shook his head. It seemed like an odd question. Maybe it was raining in the advert. Or perhaps he’d be standing on a ship? If they needed a pirate captain, Bertie could do a brilliant accent.

  “Just stand right here and read this line to the camera,” said Paul.

  Bertie took up his position and stared at the card Paul was holding.

  “Mon-ster Bobbles for little mon-sters,” he read.

  “It’s ‘Monster Bubbles’,” said Amy. “Try it again, with a bit more expression.”

  Bertie shut one eye. “AHARRRR! Monster Bubbles for little monsters!” he cried.

  The director frowned. “What’s with the funny voice?” she asked.

  “I was being a pirate,” Bertie told her. “I thought it’d make it more interesting.”

  “There aren’t any pirates in this,” said Amy. “Just stick to your normal voice.”

  “Be yourself,” Gran reminded him.

  Bertie thought being a pirate would be better, but he said the line again.

  Amy nodded. “Thanks, that’s great.”

  “Perfect,” said Paul.

  Bertie blinked. Was that it? Didn’t they want to hear his other impressions? He could do teachers – Miss Boot on the warpath, for instance.

  “Did I get the part?” he asked.

  “We’ll let you know,” said Paul, showing them to the door. “Thanks for coming.”

  Outside, Bertie turned to Gran. “Well, that went pretty well I think,” he said.

  “Yes,” agreed Gran. “If they want a one-eyed pirate with jam on his face, you’re a certainty.”

  The following week Bertie arrived home from school to find Gran in the kitchen clutching a letter addressed to him. He tore open the envelope and read the first few lines.

  “I GOT IT!” he yelled. “WAHOOO! I got the part!”

  Suzy gaped. Gran hugged him. Dad looked like he might faint.

  “Seriously?” he said.

  “See for yourself,” said Bertie, handing over the letter. There it was in black and white. The TV company wanted Bertie at the studios next Saturday to film the advert.

  “I told you!” grinned Bertie. He didn’t see why his family looked so surprised. The TV people obviously knew talent when they saw it.

  “What kind of advert is it?” asked Mum.

  “I’m not exactly sure,” said Gran.

  “If they chose Bertie, it must be for air freshener,” scoffed Suzy.

  “Very funny,” said Bertie. “Just because you’re too ugly for TV!”

  Gran tried to remember. “It was something about bubbles,” she said. “Maybe it’s a fizzy drink?”

  “Brilliant!” said Bertie. He loved fizzy drinks and held the class record for the longest burp. Anyway, who cared what the advert was for! What mattered was that he was going to appear on TV. Wait till his friends heard about this – they were going to be mad with envy!

  “YOU? On TV?” said Darren, the next day.

  “In your dreams,” said Eugene.

  “It’s true,” insisted Bertie. “I went to this audition and they picked me for an advert.”

  “Course they did,” jeered Darren. “And they’re paying you a million pounds.”

  “Maybe,” said Bertie. “But it’ll definitely be on TV.”

  His friends stared at him. “Seriously? A real advert – on television?” said Eugene.

  “That’s what I keep telling you!” said Bertie.

  “Wow!” said Darren. “So what kind of advert?”

  Bertie shrugged. “Dunno. It’s probably some sort of fizzy drink,” he said.

  “Cool!” said Darren. “You’ll be famous.”

  “I know!” said Bertie, grinning. “World famous!”

  And this was just the beginning, he thought. When the advert went out, everyone would want his autograph. Miss Boot would have to call him “Sir”. Know-All Nick would bow when Bertie walked into class. Being on TV was going to be the best thing that had ever happened to him!

  On Saturday morning Bertie and Gran arrived at the TV studios. Bertie was so excited he could hardly keep still. He had been practising fizzy pop burps all week.

  A girl called Ellie met them and took them along to a dressing room. Bertie sat in a leather chair while she started work on his make-up.

  “I did tell him to wash his face this morning,” sighed Gran.

  “Don’t worry,” laughed Ellie. “The dirtier the better.”

  She was smearing Bertie’s face with mud-coloured make-up. He looked like he’d just crawled out of a bog.

  Gran looked puzzled. “Isn’t he supposed to look smart?” she asked.

  “Not for this advert.” Ellie smiled. “He’s meant to be as filthy as possible, otherwise he wouldn’t need a bath.”

  Bertie sat up in his seat. Had he heard right? “A BATH?” he said.

  “Yes, the advert’s for bubble bath, didn’t they tell you?” asked Ellie.

  Bertie blinked. Bubble bath? Of course … that’s what “Monster Bubbles” meant! But wait a minute … surely they didn’t expect him to…

  “I’m not – you know – actually in the bath?” he gulped.

  “Of course!” laughed Ellie. “But don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of bubbles to cover you.”

  Bertie turned pale. Why hadn’t anyone warned him?

  He couldn’t appear on TV in the bath! He wouldn’t be wearing socks or a vest … or anything!

  Finally it was time for Bertie’s big scene. He waited nervously as the bath was prepared.

  “I don’t see why you’re making such a big fuss,” sighed Gran. “You have baths at home.”

  “Not often,” said Bertie. “And not on TV!”

  “But there’ll be lots of bubbles,” said Gran. “No one’s going to see anything!”

  “They’ll see ME!” moaned Bertie. “You do it, if it’s so easy!”

  “I don’t think anyone wants to see me in the bath!” giggled Gran.

  Amy came over. “Ready, Bertie?” she asked.

  Bertie swallowed. He hadn’t minded acting the first scene. All he’d had to do was walk in looking filthy from playing football – that came naturally. It was the bath scene he was dreading. Under his bathrobe he wore a tiny pair of pink pants. Ellie claimed no one would see them.

  “Couldn’t I keep the dressing gown on?” he begged.

  “Not in the bath,” said Amy. “What’s up? Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed?”

  “Course not.” Bertie blushed. He looked at Gran for help, but she just shrugged her shoulders. It was too late to back out now.

  “Come on,” said Amy. “Just get in the bath and say the line. It’s simple!”

  Easy for you to say, thought Bertie. You’re not wearing pink pants.

  “Right, stand by everyone!” called Amy.

  The filming started. Bertie’s TV mum ran the taps, making clouds of bubbles.

  “And action, Bertie!” said Amy.

  Bertie dropped the bathrobe. Taking a run, he dived into the bath head first…

  Water flew everywhere, soaking Amy and all the camera crew.

  SPLOOSH!

  “Monster-bubblesh for li’l monsters!” burbled Bertie, from beneath a mountain of suds.

  Amy wiped her eye. “Right,” she said. “Let’s try that again shall we, Bertie? And this time can we actually see your face?”

  Weeks passed. Bertie hoped that his starring TV role had been forgotten. Perhaps the advert wasn’t going to be shown after all? When his friends asked questions, he mumbled excuses and changed the subject. But one Friday it arrived – a letter from the TV company. Bertie opened it and groaned.

  “What is it?” asked Mum.

  “Er … nothing,” said Bertie.

  “It can’t be nothing, let me see,” said Mum. She read through the letter.

  “But that’s fantastic, Bertie!” she said. “Your advert’s going out on Friday.”

  Bertie nodded glumly.

  “Well, aren’t you pleased?” asked Mum. “You’re going to be on TV!”

  “Mmm,” said Bertie. “I’m just not feeling too well.”

  He still hadn’t told anyone the terrible truth about the advert. His family had no idea and nor did anyone at school. Only Gran knew – and he’d made her promise to keep it a secret.

  “Well, I can’t wait to see it,” said Mum.

  “Nor me,” said Suzy. “My smelly little brother on TV! We should invite Gran round to watch.”

  “Yes, and the Nicelys, too,” said Mum. “I’m sure Angela would love to see it.”

  “No, not Angela!” groaned Bertie. If she heard about it, the news would be all round school. He didn’t want anyone to see the advert.

  The following evening Bertie’s lounge was crowded with people. Despite his protests, Mum had invited Gran, Darren, Eugene and the Nicelys from next door. They were all eager to see Bertie’s big moment on TV.

  Bertie felt sick. Just as he’d feared, Angela had blabbed about it to everyone. Even Miss Boot was going to watch. He stared at the TV. Perhaps they’d got the date wrong? Or maybe a sudden power cut would save him. Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea…

  “Isn’t it exciting!” said Mum.

  “Who’d have thought it? Bertie on TV,” said Dad.

  “Aren’t you excited, Bertie?” cooed Angela, moving closer to him.

  “Not really,” said Bertie, sneaking out a hand for the remote.

  ZAP! The TV went blank.

  “What’s happened?” gasped Gran.

  “Oh no, a power cut,” sighed Bertie.

  “It’s not a power cut, you’re sitting on the remote, you idiot,” said Darren. “Give it here.”

  “Get off!” cried Bertie. A brief tug-of-war broke out, ending with Mum grabbing the remote and turning the TV back on.

  The adverts were just starting. Bertie could only watch through his fingers. “Please, please, don’t let them show it,” he prayed.

  “This is it!” cried Gran.

  Bertie peeped out. There he was on the screen, covered in mud and holding a football.

  “So that’s why they chose you!” said Mum.

  The scene changed to the bathroom. Taps were running as Bertie’s TV mum poured in bubble bath.

  Here it comes, thought Bertie.

  ARGH! There he was, wearing nothing but bubbles! The camera zoomed in… “Monster Bubbles for little monsters!”

  Darren fell about laughing. “Ha ha ha! You didn’t say you were in the bath!”

  “Hee hee! Bertie’s in the nuddy!” sang Eugene.

  “Shut up! I was wearing pants!” moaned Bertie, turning pink.

  “Well, I think you did very well, Bertie,” said Gran.

  Angela nodded. “I thought you were fantastic!”

  “Yes, and at least you got a bath,” laughed Dad.

  Bertie zapped off the TV.

  “Okay, you’ve all seen it,” he groaned. “Now can we just forget about it?”

  Suzy grinned. “I wouldn’t count on it,” she said. “Adverts are on every day – they could be showing it for months yet!”

  MONTHS? Bertie looked horrified. This was terrible! He was never going on TV again – not even if they begged him!

  It was Saturday suppertime. Bertie was meant to be laying the table with Suzy. Dad came in carrying a large box.

  “I thought I might go fishing tomorrow,” he said.

  Bertie looked up hopefully. “Fishing? Can I come?” he asked.

  “YOU? You don’t like fishing,” said Dad.

  “I’ve never been,” replied Bertie.

  “Probably because your dad’s never offered to take you,” said Mum, folding her arms.

  Dad raised his eyes to the ceiling. Taking Bertie anywhere was risky, but fishing was asking for trouble. He’d probably get covered in mud and fall in the river. Whatever happened, one thing was certain – if Bertie came along there wouldn’t be a moment’s peace.

  “You’d probably find it boring,” said Dad. “Most of the time it’s just sitting around.”

  “But don’t you catch fish?” asked Bertie.

  “Sometimes – if you’re lucky,” admitted Dad.

  “I’d be good at fishing,” said Bertie. “Remember when we got that goldfish?”

  Suzy rolled her eyes. “That was at the funfair,” she said.

  All the same, Bertie was keen to go fishing. It sounded dead easy – you just dangled a hook in the water and pulled out a fish. Anyone could do it! Besides, anything that involved worms and maggots was his idea of heaven!

  “Fishing’s not that simple,” argued Dad. “You have to learn how to cast a line.”

  “Surely you can teach him that?” said Mum. “I’d have thought you’d want to take your son fishing.”

  “I bet other dads take their sons,” grumbled Bertie. “I bet they’re glad to take them.”

  “Anyway, it would be nice for the two of you to do something together,” said Mum.

  Dad knew when he was beaten. “All right, all right, I’ll take him,” he groaned.

  “YESSSSS!” cheered Bertie. “Can I borrow your fishing rod?”

  “Certainly not, you’ll break it,” snapped Dad. “You can borrow my old fishing net.”

  Bertie supposed a net was better than nothing. He opened Dad’s fishing box and examined the tins and boxes. He picked one up and took off the lid.

 

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