Life Stinks! by Peter Bently Page B

the tournament! Imagine his face when you knock him off his horse in front of all the other knights!”
    Sir Percy sank deeper into his pillows. “All the other knights…” he muttered. He really was looking very pale.
    â€œ
And
in front of the king and queen!” I said.
    â€œOhhh!” Sir Percy let out a little wail and pulled his covers up over his head.
    I don’t blame him. The excitement was almost too much for me, too.
    â€œDo you want me to write back to Sir Roland straight away, Sir Percy?” I said to the lump in the bedclothes. “I’ll tell him what it says in
The Song of Percy
. The bit that goes
Sir Percy fears no mortal knight. He’s never lost a single fight!
I can’t wait to see you in action!”
    â€œStop!” Sir Percy sat up again. “My dear Cedric, I’d simply
love
to fight Sir Roland. But I’ve just realized I can’t!”
    â€œOh,” I said, disappointed. “But why not, Sir Percy?”
    â€œIt’s out of the question, dear boy,” said Sir Percy. “I can’t fight anyone with my bad leg, you know…
Ooh!
There it goes again!”

    â€œBad leg?” I said. “I didn’t know you had a bad leg, Sir Percy.”
    Sir Percy winced. “Oh, didn’t I mention it?” he said. “Old battle injury, you know. You must have noticed my limp. Left leg flares up from time to time –
ouch!
– the pain! I can’t possibly fight Sir Roland in this condition. You’ll have to write him a note excusing me from the tournament.”
    Then I remembered something I’d read in
The Song of Percy.
    â€œSir Percy,” I cried. “Your pants!”
    â€œThere’s no need to be rude, dear boy,” said Sir Percy.
    â€œNo, I mean your
magic
pants,” I gabbled. “The pair that wizard gave youin
The Song of Percy
, remember? What was the spell again?
However injured you may be, these pants will bring you victory!
”
    Sir Percy sat there opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “Ah … yes,” he said eventually. “
Those
magic pants.”
    â€œI’ll fetch them,” I said. “They probably need an iron before Friday.”
    I dashed over to Sir Percy’s wardrobe, but Sir Percy called me back.
    â€œWait, Cedric!” He smiled breezily. “Um – first go and fetch me a quill, ink and a sheet of parchment. I shall write to Sir Roland myself. Not only will I accept his silly challenge, I’ll also show him how much better my spelling is!”
    â€œVery good, Sir Percy,” I said.
    I hurried downstairs to Sir Percy’s study and grabbed his writing things. When I got back, he was standing in the enormous fireplace with his head up the chimney.
    â€œSir Percy?” I said.
    For someone with a dodgy leg Sir Percy jumped out of the fireplace amazingly quickly.

    â€œOh! There you are, Cedric,” said Sir Percy hastily. “I was just – um – checking to see if the chimney was blocked. Bit smoky in here, don’t you think?”
    It didn’t seem smoky at all to me. But I said, “Maybe I’d better let in a bit of fresh air, Sir Percy.” I opened a window, only to hear Patchcoat down below, trying out a new joke on Grunge the gardener.
    â€œ
Knock! Knock!
” said Patchcoat.
    â€œOo be there?” Grunge grunted.
    â€œCows go!” said Patchcoat.
    â€œCows go ’oo?” said Grunge.
    â€œNo, they don’t, cows go
moo
!” cackled Patchcoat. “Get it?”
    â€œNo,” said Grunge.
    I turned to Sir Percy, who had limped back into bed. (Despite what Sir Percy said, I’d
never
noticed his limp before.)
    â€œAh, splendid, you brought the quill and parchment,” he said, plumping up his pillows. “Now, I’ll write to Sir Roland while you go and give my – um – magic underpants an iron. It’s the yellow spotty