For Bertie, for all the years of fun and laughs

  ~ D R and A M

  Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  MASCOT!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  SWOT CAMP!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  ROBOT WARS!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  COPYRIGHT

  MORE BERTIE STORIES!

  EVEN MORE BERTIE STORIES & ACTIVITY BOOKS!

  Mum came into the kitchen carrying the post.

  “Oh, Bertie, you’ve got a letter,” she said.

  Bertie hardly ever got any post apart from at birthdays and Christmas. He tore open the envelope.

  “Wow!” he cried. “They want me to be a mascot!”

  “That’s nice,” said Mum. “You’ve got jam on your face.”

  “A mascot for the school team?” asked Dad.

  “No, for Rovers,” replied Bertie. He read out the letter…

  “Who’s Rovers?” yawned Suzy.

  “Pudsley Rovers!” said Dad. “Our local team – they’re in Division One!”

  “But why choose Bertie as their mascot?” asked Mum.

  Bertie didn’t have a clue. Then he remembered – months ago he’d put his name down for something to do with football. Darren had done it, too – he’d been wildly excited about the chance of being picked.

  “I think I entered a competition,” said Bertie. “Anyway, what’s a mascot?”

  “It’s a huge honour,” explained Dad. “Every team has a lucky mascot. You run out with the players and line up before kick-off.”

  This didn’t sound that exciting to Bertie. He had to line up before school every day.

  “Do I kick the ball?” he asked.

  “No! You’re not playing!” said Dad.

  “Do I blow the whistle then?”

  “That’s the referee’s job,” said Dad.

  “Well, what do I do?” Bertie wanted to know.

  “I’ve told you, you cheer your team on and bring them luck,” said Dad. “You’ll probably meet Larry Lion.”

  “There’s a LION?” said Bertie.

  That would certainly make the game more exciting. The players would have to run for their lives!

  “It’s not a real lion,” said Dad. “Rovers’ team mascot is Larry Lion. It’s a man dressed up in a lion costume.”

  Bertie frowned. “But I thought I was the mascot?”

  “You’re the junior match day mascot, which is different each time,” Dad explained. “Larry Lion is the team mascot – he’s there for every game.”

  Bertie thought it all sounded a bit complicated.

  “Why can’t I be the lion?” he asked.

  “Sorry, I don’t think that’s what they want,” said Dad.

  “They might,” said Bertie. “The letter doesn’t say I can’t be the lion. Anyway, they haven’t heard me roar yet. ROARRRRR!”

  Mum and Dad covered their ears. They hoped Bertie wasn’t going to get too carried away.

  Bertie couldn’t wait to tell his friends on Monday morning.

  “Guess what,” he said, on the way to school. “I’m going to be a mascot!”

  “You?” said Eugene. “What for?”

  “For Rovers,” answered Bertie. “Dad says they’re really famous.”

  “I know who they are,” said Darren. “My dad takes me to all the home games. But who says you’re the mascot?”

  “I got a letter on Saturday,” said Bertie. “It must have been that competition we entered.”

  Darren’s mouth fell open. “That’s so unfair! You only entered because I did. You don’t know anything about football!”

  “I do! I played for the school team,” argued Bertie.

  “Only once, because no one else would go in goal,” said Darren.

  “Anyway, they picked me,” said Bertie. “I’ve got to lead the teams out for the kick-up.”

  “The kick-off,” said Darren.

  “But that’s not the best bit,” Bertie beamed. “I’m going to dress up as a lion!”

  “What?” said Eugene.

  “You don’t mean Larry Lion?” gasped Darren. “They want you to be Larry Lion?”

  “That’s right,” said Bertie. “There are two mascots but I’m definitely going to be the lion one.”

  Darren and Eugene could hardly believe it. Not only was Bertie going to be a mascot – he got to wear a lion costume.

  “Larry Lion is a legend,” said Darren. “He gets the crowd laughing and cheering. He can even juggle a football!”

  Bertie hoped they didn’t want him to juggle. But he was good at making his friends laugh so he’d just have to stick to that.

  “Well, I’ll be there on Saturday,” said Darren.

  “Me too,” said Eugene. “Just think, thousands of people will be watching you.”

  “Thousands?” said Bertie.

  He had no idea. When the school team played, only two parents came to watch. Being Rovers’ mascot was even better than he’d thought – he’d be famous! People would stop him in the street to ask for his autograph. He might even wear his lion costume to school for a few weeks.

  The week before the big game passed slowly. Bertie drove his family mad with what he called his “lion practice”. He woke his parents early in the morning with his roaring. He made Suzy scream by jumping out from behind the bathroom door. At mealtimes he even took to eating like a lion.

  “Bertie, use your knife and fork,” sighed Mum.

  “I can’t,” said Bertie. “Lions eat with their paws.”

  “Not in this house, and don’t slobber when you eat.”

  “Shlurp, shlurp!” said Bertie, licking his plate.

  Dad shook his head. “I wish I’d never mentioned Larry Lion,” he groaned.

  On Saturday Dad drove Bertie to the Rovers stadium.

  “Just do what they tell you and try not to get overexcited,” he warned.

  Bertie didn’t see how it was possible to be overexcited. After all, he was going to be a lion!

  At the ground they were shown into the manager’s office. Barry Ball was a big bulldog of a man with a firm handshake.

  “So, Bertie, you like football, do you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” replied Bertie. “And I’m pretty good at roaring.”

  “Roaring?” said the manager, looking confused.

  “He’s been excited all week about dressing up as Larry Lion,” Dad explained.

  “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” laughed Barry Ball. “Let’s go downstairs and you can meet the lads.”

  In the dressing room Bertie was introduced to the Rovers’ players. To him they all looked like giants. The captain was called Kyle.

  “Bertie, put it there!” said Kyle, giving him a high five. “Let’s find you a Rovers kit, shall we?”

  Bertie changed into the Rovers yellow shirt and shorts. It looked good but he was keen to see the rest of his costume.

  “What about my lion’s head?” he asked.

  Barry Ball smiled. “That’s what I was saying, you don’t have to wear a costume,” he said. “Anyway, it’s far too big.”

  “It’s okay, I’d like to wear it,” said Bertie.

  “Yes, but that’s Tommy’s job. He’s Larry Lion but he’s off with a bad back this week,” explained the manager. “Anyway, you look fine in football kit.”

  Bertie’s shoulders drooped. After all his practice, they didn’t want him to be the lion. It was so unfair. He’d set his heart on wearing the costume and a boring football kit wasn’t the same. Worst of all, his friends would think he’d made the whole thing up.

  “I’d better get to my seat,” said Dad. “Try to stay out of trouble, Bertie, and I’ll see you at half-time.”

  Bertie sat kicking his legs while the players got changed. He wondered where they kept the lion costume. It must be somewhere if Tommy wasn’t wearing it. He peeped into the next room and noticed a row of grey lockers. Maybe he’d just take a little look around…

  The first three lockers were empty but in the next he struck gold. A lion costume hung on a hook, complete with a gigantic head. Surely there was no harm in just trying it on? Quickly, he slipped into the suit and pulled on the head. He could just see out through a gap in the mouth.

  “Hey, Bertie, where are you?” called Barry Ball. “We’re ready to go!”

  Uh oh, they were calling him. Bertie looked at his huge furry feet and paws. There wasn’t time to take off the costume, he’d just have to go as he was. He plodded back into the dressing room.

  When the players saw him they all burst out laughing.

  “I told you, it’s way too big for you!” said Barry Ball.

  “Oh, let him wear it, boss,” grinned Kyle. “Who’s going to know it’s not Tommy?”

  He took Bertie’s paw and led him out. Bertie heard the clatter of football studs as they went down a long tunnel. Ahead he could see bright lights and hear music playing. They stepped out into the vast stadium. This was it…

  A great roar from the crowd greeted the teams. Bertie glowed with pride and waved a paw. The players ran off to warm up, kicking a ball to each other. Bertie stood waving to everyone. He hoped that Darren and Eugene could see him.

  THUMP! A football landed at his feet.

  “Go on. Take a shot, Bertie,” said Kyle.
  Bertie wasn’t brilliant at shooting and he was wearing giant furry feet. Still, thousands of people were watching. He ran at the ball and hoofed it with all his might. It missed the goal but hit someone on the back. The “someone” turned round and glared at him – it was the referee.

  “Oops, sorry!” cried Bertie. He danced away swishing his tail.

  Bertie joined the teams as they lined up. He shook the City players’ hands and they shook him by the paw. Then the referee blew his whistle to start the game and Bertie’s starring role was over.

  He stood on the sidelines watching the ball zip back and forth. It was hard to see much from inside the lion’s head. After about twenty minutes, he heard a big cheer. Bertie looked round and saw the ball in the back of the net. GOAL! He jumped up and down and did his lion dance. But hang on a minute – the Rovers players were all holding their heads in their hands. The ball was in their goal – it was City who’d scored!

  A hand tapped him on the shoulder. It was the linesman with his yellow flag.

  “I can’t see the game with your big head in the way,” he grumbled.

  “But I’m the mascot!” said Bertie.

  “I don’t care who you are, stand over there behind the goal.”

  Bertie trailed off. He didn’t see why he couldn’t stand wherever he wanted.

  “BERTIE! HEY, BERTIE!”

  Bertie turned round. Darren and Eugene were calling and waving from the crowd. Bertie waved back. Then he did his lion dance, waggling his bottom and making his tail swing round and round.

  “HEY!” shouted the linesman. “For the last time, keep away from the pitch!”

  Bertie sighed. There was no pleasing some people.

  At half-time, Dad arrived to check how he was getting on. The referee came over and gave Bertie a lecture about not standing near the touchline.

  “Sorry. He’s never been a mascot before,” Dad explained. “He just gets a bit overexcited.”

  The second half began. Bertie stood behind the City goal, trying to keep out of the way. The game seemed to be going nowhere. The crowd had gone quiet and Rovers were heading for a 1-0 defeat. As the mascot Bertie felt he ought to help. Perhaps if he danced or did a cartwheel the crowd would make more noise? He tried a cartwheel but it was more of a bad head over heels. He tried it again then spun round waving his tail. When he stopped, he found he’d made himself dizzy. He staggered a few steps to one side.

  “HEY! GET OFF THE PITCH, YOU IDIOT!”

  The linesman was shouting again. Bertie swung round…

  THUD!

  Something thumped him hard on the side of the head.

  A split second later there was a deafening roar. Bertie sat up. The ball was in the net and the City goalkeeper was face down on the grass. For a moment Bertie couldn’t think what had happened. Then a scrum of Rovers players were jumping on top of him.

  “Great goal, Bertie!” said Kyle.

  Bertie realized he’d wandered on to the pitch. The ball must have hit his head and bounced into the goal. He’d scored for Rovers!

  The goal caused an almighty row. The City players crowded round the referee arguing and pointing. The referee went over to the linesman. Finally, he gave the goal because he couldn’t think of anything in the rules about lions.

  Bertie’s moment of glory didn’t last long however. The referee sent him off to a chorus of boos. Bertie waved one last time as he trudged off. It wasn’t his fault the ball had hit him. He’d never even seen it!

  Ten minutes later the whistle went and the game ended in a draw. The Rovers fans cheered while the City fans booed the referee loudly.

  Bertie stood by the tunnel as the Rovers players came off. They all shook his hand or clapped him on the back.

  “Nice header, Bertie! We should sign you up!” said Kyle.

  Bertie took off his lion’s head and costume. His face was hot but he was grinning.

  Dad arrived looking flustered.

  “Can I be mascot again next week?” Bertie asked.

  “I think maybe once was enough,” said Dad.

  “Anyway, Tommy will be wanting his job back,” added Barry Ball.

  The referee was still red-faced and arguing with the City players. When he caught sight of Bertie he pushed past them.

  “Uh oh, I think he’s coming over,” said Dad. “Time we were going, Bertie. Come on!”

  They left the ground and hurried to the car park.

  Bertie looked down. In the race to get away he’d forgotten to remove his giant furry lion’s feet.

  “Oh well,” he said. “You never know when I might need them.”

  Bertie strolled home, swinging his bag. At last, the summer holidays! he thought. Six whole weeks without lessons, homework or Miss Boot telling him to stop talking. Stuffed in his bag was a leaflet that she’d handed out at home time. Bertie hadn’t bothered paying much attention – letters from school were usually boring.

  Back home he settled down in front of the TV. Mum came in.

  “What’s this?” she asked, waving the leaflet. “I found it in your bag.”

  “Oh yes, Miss Boot gave it to us,” said Bertie. “It’s a camp or something – I wasn’t really listening.”

  Mum read it through. Bertie had never been on a summer camp and this one sounded educational. He certainly needed to do something about his school marks. His last report said: “Bertie’s work has actually gone backwards this year.”

  “This sounds fun, Bertie,” she said. “Would you like to go?”

  “ME?” said Bertie.

  “Yes, it’ll give you something to do in the holidays,” said Mum.

  Bertie thought he had plenty to do already. For starters, there were a million TV shows he wanted to watch.

  “I’ll be busy,” he said.

  “It’s only for a week,” said Mum. “I expect there’ll be lots of games and activities. You might even learn something.”

  Bertie frowned. He wouldn’t mind learning how to jet ski but that seemed unlikely.

  “No thanks, I’d rather stay at home,” he said.

  “But you might enjoy it,” Mum persisted. “Don’t you want to make some new friends?”

  “I like my old friends,” replied Bertie. “Anyway, when we went camping it rained all the time and the toilets stunk.”

  “Summer camp’s not like that,” said Mum. “I expect you sleep in rooms with comfy beds.”

  “I like sleeping in my own bed,” said Bertie.

  He didn’t see why Mum was so keen for him to go to summer camp. Anyone would think she wanted to get rid of him!

  Dad came in.

  “Take a look at this,” said Mum. “I thought Bertie might like to go.”

  “I wouldn’t!” said Bertie.

  “It sounds great,” said Dad. “I wish I’d had the chance to go to summer camp.”

  “But I’d rather stay here with my friends,” argued Bertie.

  “Well maybe Darren or Eugene would like to go?” suggested Mum. “I could speak to their parents.”

  Bertie sighed. He wished Miss Boot had never given out the leaflets!

  Later that evening Mum found Bertie in his room.

  “Darren can’t go but Eugene’s parents love the idea,” she reported. “So it’s all agreed, you two are off to camp.”

  Bertie sighed. He didn’t seem to have much choice in the matter.

  At the weekend Bertie discussed the camp with his friends.

  “It’s not fair!” grumbled Darren, “I never get to go anywhere!”

  “You’re lucky, I didn’t ask to go,” said Bertie. “My parents practically made me.”

  “At least we’ll both be there,” said Eugene. “Maybe they’ve got a swimming pool.”

  “My cousin says summer camp is fantastic,” said Darren. “He did rock climbing and zip wiring. Every night they cooked over a campfire.”

  “Really?” said Bertie. The leaflet hadn’t said anything about zip wires or rock climbing.

 

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