Bonus Track originally from 2013

Moppet, Tigger, Simpkin and The Bullpuss

present ...

Tall tales / tails of the Ginger Nuts, illustrated cat stories for children and adults of all ages

The right of Peter Brighouse to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and

Patents Act 1988

by Peter Brighouse

First Edition, first printing

Published by Mr Squimps Shop, Manchester, England

Books by Peter Brighouse

Here Come The Ginger Nuts

More Fun With The Ginger Nuts

Bullpuss And The Ginger Nuts

Cats At The Cottage

The Ginger Nuts And The Rats

Five Furry Tales From The Ginger Nuts

The Ginger Nuts And The Parrot

Ginger Nuts Alphabet

And many more

INTRODUCTION

Louisa's Ginger Nuts series of humorous cat books are lavishly illustrated and aimed at a wide range of children's reading abilities. This story is specially for the older parent reading to a child, since the jokes require a knowledge of the jazz pantheon and songs from the Great American Song-book.

The tale is set in Lyme Regis, a handsome Dorset seaside resort on the English Channel and features some new cat characters, mainly Clawed and Ginger-Ginger who are delighted to find that the famous Ginger Nuts jazz band, featuring Bullpuss on double-bass, Squimps on piano and Mungo Jerrycan on baritone saxophone are booked to appear in the town as part of the jazz festival. Cameo appearances are made by Captain Bullpuss, whom we first met in Book 2, "More Fun With The Ginger Nuts" and Benson, drummer with the jazz band. Having got on so well with the farm and barn cats as related in Book 4, "Cats At The Cottage", the Ginger Nuts always looked forward to the next trip to Cumbria, to renew friendships with Benson and his family and exchange anecdotes. The story included below is Benson's reply to hearing all about how the Ginger Nuts met Bobby Bunny and his croquet loving Old Mistress.

The Kit From Red Bank

Benson was very amused by Bullpuss' story of how the Ginger Nuts met Bobby Bunny and, after a refreshing round of farmyard cat snacks, wanted to return the compliment with a story of his own.

Tigtoes and Squimps had joined the group as they heard Bullpuss reaching the end of their story and Mrs Benson and several of their extensive family were sitting attentively waiting for Benson to begin.

"This story, my dear Ginger Nuts friends, concerns a distant cousin of mine, who used to live further over in the Lake District," explained Benson, "a fine black and white fellow like myself, who was taken by his people to live in the handsome seaside resort of Lyme Regis.

"You know, Bullpuss, how you and Squimps often do jokes in your special voices where you copy the tone of William Clawed Duck In Field, well, my cousin, also called Clawed, tends to talk like that all the time.

He quickly adapted to the more cultured way of life in a southern seaside resort and built up a wide ranging territory, with lots of friends to call upon and very few enemies to avoid.

Upon one occasion, towards the end of a long hot summer, Clawed planned to take a much longer evening stroll, right down to the sea front, which would be quieter now that the school holidays had ended and the children had returned to their urban homes.

Being an elderly cat, he was happy to receive an extensive brushing from his Old Mistress, who also renewed his collar and placed a gold plate medallion in between his bell and the magnet key for getting back home later.

Clawed searched out his favourite old straw hat, much worn and dilapidated, and his stoutest cane and set off down the road, passing Cleveland Bed and Breakfast on one side.

"No pets!" said Clawed to himself, reading the sign, "macow, yet I know that nice lady likes pussy cats, so it must be in case any new guests are allergic to our fine fur."

The road down to town and the sea front was quite steep and Clawed made a small detour into the display garden where you could often find a bed of catmint to relax in and let the worries of the day pass you by. He also expected to see one of his friends and sure enough, Sheba, a most handsome half Persian puss, was playing coy with a couple of tourists who were sitting on a park bench whilst she rubbed and rolled around their knees.

"Oh, hello, Pussy Cat!" called Clawed, "Mirrawacow, you need to be careful you're not catnapped Sheba!"

"Macoh, I'm very selective with the visitors," she replied, "I can always tell which are decent, respectable people. My own family are hardly ever in at home so apart from regular meals I receive very few signals of affection."

She jumped onto the elderly gentleman's shoulders and rubbed her cheek against his ear.

Having said goodbye to Sheba, Clawed returned to the main road after first passing a group of noisy Herring Gulls who were squabbling over who should have the choicest pieces of the dustbin dainties they had pulled out from a litter receptacle. They swooped around Clawed's head, calling rude names and some were so audacious that several jets narrowly missed his neatly brushed fur.

"Macow, gangway, naval pussycat, gangway, I say!" shouted Clawed as he cautiously edged past their sharp beaks.

The main road quickly became the high street and sloped sharply down to the seafront. Most of the shops were closed for the night and only a few tourists were taking the evening air. Clawed stopped by his favourite shop and standing with his paws on the sill, examined the front window display.

"Mew, mew, anything new in here?" Clawed had once seen tiny kittens in the window but the display was given over to items donated by well-wishers and a specially designed range of cat products, such as dishes, bowls and biscuit containers, which had been decorated with some tasteful comical mice. Just behind was a small display of most attractively coloured books. Clawed turned his head from side to side to read the titles. "Macow, yes!" he cried, "the cat books Cousin Benson said I should look out for, all about his city friends, Louisa's Ginger Nuts. How exciting, I hope lots sell and then perhaps we shall see more kittens in the window."

There were still holidaymakers dining in the many fine restaurants and hotels of the town and Clawed picked his way through narrow alleys at the back of these establishments to where he expected to find some old friends who would be checking out the remnants being disposed of from the diners' unfinished platters.

Sure enough, Captain Bullpuss and Ginger-ginger were there sampling the delights put together by the two culinary Dorset Hedgehogs, Oliver and Tom.

"Macow, hello my Chickapooks, my fine furry friends," exclaimed Clawed as he sidled along the alley, "and who are these two little urchins, organising all the delicacies?"

Ginger-ginger, an elderly, rather overweight Ginger Nut, so called to distinguish him from all other ginger cats just called 'Ginger', made the introductions.

The two hedgehogs fell over each other with glee as they explained their involvement.

"There's some really kind hearted kitchen hands in these restaurants," said Oliver.

"Who take pity upon us poor hungry endangered hedgehogs," said Tom.

"And they will always put out a saucer of something nice for us," continued Oliver.

"We hop round the corner, empty the saucer on to our large charger here, and run back with an empty saucer for more."

"Works like a charm, we build up delicious supplies, then run our takeaway for all our cat and dog friends to visit," finished Oliver.

At this stage Captain Bullpuss stepped forward to renew his friendship with Clawed and solemnly shook paws.

"Miacazooks, Clawed, me hearty, 'tis good to see you. We have to be quick eating our snacks before those seagull varmints find where we are."

Now Captain Bullpuss was the fellow who had disgraced himself in the story "More Fun With The Ginger Nuts" and had been taken away by his people to their retirement home, a place called Treasure Island. This had proved unsuitable and a more permanent move was made to a seaside retirement cottage in Lyme Regis. Captain Bullpuss had settled into the sea shanty style of life very well and was absolutely delighted when he found that the local Tourist Information Office was on the lookout for participants in the "Talk Like A Pirate" festival. This was an entertaining long weekend squeezed in between the Regis In Bloom open gardens event and the Jazz and Blues Festival.

Oliver and Tom had finished the preparation and presentation of their snacks and had written up a board, in their best Hyrisson French, plus a little ersatz German.

The board read as follows:

Lescargots du Pain
Poule et Oeuf
Dogwurtz unt Brotchen
Cockle et Heart Surprise
King Pawn & Queen Scallop

Several other feline friends had joined the party together with two Jack Russells and a chocolate Dachshund under a flag of truce. Clawed had not met the dogs before and once again Ginger-ginger made the introductions.

"Macow, they call Clawed, 'The Kit From Red Bank'," he explained, "because of where he hails from and because of his love of jazz."

Clawed took up the story. "Mirrawacow, my people were originally from the Lake District before we retired down to Lyme Regis and we lived on a steep hill rising out of Grasmere. There were so many fine jazz festivals and weekends to follow in the Lakes that one of the many criteria for selecting a new home here was the availability of good jazz."

The Dachshund selected one of Oliver's sausages in a bun, a particularly long one. "Bow-wow, have you visited the Black Pussy Cat Cafe, just behind the Italian restaurant but along from the Mexican one?" he asked.

"Macow, you must join us Clawed," insisted Ginger-ginger, "there are so many fine musicians dropping in for a jam session and we're going along there shortly."

Clawed readily agreed and the group took another round of snacks before preparing to depart.

Suddenly there was a raucous screeching and a wind beating flourish of wings as several of the local seagull gang noticed the party and dived in to gate crash. The air was filled with grey and white feathers and with their open wings the seabirds looked hugely intimidating.

Captain Bullpuss readjusted his eye-patch (he didn't really need one, having excellent eye-sight). "Miaouch! You wouldn't peck an old seacat's good eye out would you?" he asked the nearest yellow billed antagonist, who was much smaller and slimmer than the usual gulls. The Little Tern was mostly feathered in white with a black cap and grey touches to the ends of its wings. Captain Bullpuss, that wily old seafarer, recognised it as such and offered it a small glass of sherry, since he never liked to leave a tern unstoned.

The seabird group quickly gobbled up every last trace of the snacks and as they departed, Tom crept out from behind the cats and sniffed, "well at least it saves on the washing up," as he and Oliver took their two empty saucers back to the restaurant's kitchen door.

The two little hedgehogs declined an invitation to the Black Pussy Cat Cafe. "We've hidden away a small bag of comestibles and must take them back to our families. We live in some splendid wild gardens just near the small river Lym, the one with the incredibly long ford, which saves you getting your feet too wet."

So, good-byes and thank-yous were said and Ginger-ginger, Captain Bullpuss, Clawed and the Dachshund, whose name was Cocoa, trotted round the corner to the back stage door of the Black Pussy Cat Cafe.

"Step right inside, no cover, no minimum!" announced a rather disreputable looking character on the door, "show's just about to begin."

Good seats were obtained just near the small stage and the waitress brought over saucers of milk laced with essence of cat mint.

A large grinning badger walked out to introduce the entertainment. He was handsomely dressed in a tasteful black and white striped suit which complemented his natural fur patterns.

"Good evening, Laydees an' Gennelmen," he began, "Welcome, Willkommen, Bienvenue, tonight for your edification and delight, will you give a big round of appaws for the Ginger Nuts Jazz Band."

The lights faded and a breathless hush descended, then a single spotlight shone upon a small figure who had walked out to the centre of the stage and there was Tabitha Twitchit as Cattie Holiday. The music started and she sang "Ain't Miaowka-powking, saving my purrs for you."

$Cattie Holiday.jpg$

At the end of the song which was applauded enthusiastically by the audience, the lights faded, there was some whispering and shuffling on stage and when the lights shone again, there was the Mopprag as Catty Lee. She sang "Baubles, Bangles and Biscuits," which went down very well.

Catty Lee.jpg

Tabitha then joined Mopprag and together they sang "Whisker To Whisker" whilst pressing their cheeks quite close together.

Captain Bullpuss liked this one immensely and joined in the chorus. Tabitha and Mopprag finished their set with an excellent rendition of "I Gotta Right To Mew The Blues" which brought a small tear to Clawed's eyes.

Next to step forward to take a solo was Tigtoes, the trumpet player, as Cat Anderson. He set the place alight with the high notes in "El Gato" and "Satin Cat".

Then it was the turn of The Bullpuss, on double bass, as Bullpuss Mingus, who played the very beautiful and poignant "Good-bye Pork Pie Cat", followed by some of his favourite numbers from the album "Mingus In Pookieland".

The piano player had been working very hard upon all these fine pieces and it was his turn to feature in the spotlight. Squimps as Caant Basie, raised a furry eyebrow in acknowledgment and immediately swung into "One O'Clock Snack" followed by "The Kit From Red Bank". Clawed was overjoyed to hear this. "They're playing my song!" he cried.

After a short interval during which dishes of biscuits were shared, the programme began again when Mungo Jerrycan walked out centre stage with his baritone sax, the sinuous curves of which were complemented by his long bendy tail. He started with "Straight, No Chaser", a song dedicated to the effective capturing of mice and ended with the very beautiful "My Furry Valentine".

As a finale the extremely versatile Mungojerrie laid his sax upon its stand, put on a top hat and tails and, as Cat Ellington, joined Caant Basie at the grand piano for an energetic "Kinda Pookish" segueing effortlessly into "Rattin' In Rhythm".

This almost brought the house down but it was time to go home, and everyone joined in singing the band's final number:

I wanna be around,

To pick up the Pussypaws,

When somebody steals your tea .....

Afterword

Our feline friends hope you have enjoyed this book; we had lots of fun creating it.

Please consider recommending it to your circle of family and friends.

The more you encourage us, the more we shall produce.

EMAIL: squimps@btinternet.com and/or squimpsoldmaster@gmail.com

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Very Old Master, author / illustrator

Old Mistress, fine touches to the narrative's grammar