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Knock knock knock.

Knock knock knock.

'Are you ready?' asked Mr Wonka in a muffled voice. He was outside Charlie's bedroom and didn't burst in this time - for obvious reasons!

Charlie emerged chirpily and the chocolate double-act marched in single file along the, now brighter, corridor. 

'Mr Wonka, there were strange munching and crunching sounds during the night. They were coming from this corridor, in the opposite direction to where we are heading.'

Mr Wonka scratched his neck and began to hum.

'Mr Wonka, there was a hectic rustling noise too.'

Mr Wonka was humming God Save Our Queen!

'What were they?' went on Charlie, desperately.

'Oh, don't worry about that,' replied Mr Wonka between hums. 'Did you like the Wonka Gel?'

Charlie glanced behind nervously and took several deep breaths. 'Ummm, yer-yesssss, I-I der-der-did.'

'And did you notice anything or feel unusual happenings?'

'It felt fantastic. All soft and creamy and it's made me extra-cleany!'

Mr Wonka clapped his hands with delight and his hat span round on his head. 'Great! I'm excited! You'll experience another tremendous treat too. Well, no. Perhaps not at your age. You're still too young.'

'What else happens?' asked Charlie.

'Hair growth!' thrilled Mr Wonka, his hat still spinning like a Catherine Wheel. Charlie's eyeballs boggled and his bottom squeaked at the amazing sight.

'Was that you?' joked Mr Wonka. 'I knew yesterday's meat feast would have repercussions. It always does.' Then he pinched the end of his nose with both hands.

'What kind of hair growth?' continued Charlie, eagerly.

'Well,' replied Mr Wonka, (his hat had stopped spinning but his nose was still being squeezed.) 'Any type of hair that's in need of repair. Once the gel is massaged in, the sprouting will soon begin: up brand new hair strands will spring! Curly chest hairs, coily private part hairs and, best of all - scalp hairs!'

Charlie giggled at the prospect and Mr Wonka's legs braked sharply. 'Are you laughing at my tone of voice?' 

'Not at all. I'm laughing at the possibility of hair growth!' 

'It's not a possibility, it's a positivity,' said Mr Wonka, continuing to march up and down different corridors, almost randomly. 'I may have invented a permanent cure for baldness! Millions of naked heads the world over will rejoice!'

Charlie stared at Mr Wonka's behind in awe as they ventured deeper and deeper into what seemed like a crazy maze.

'I shall send some to an old friend of mine called Boris. He lives in a north London town called Barnet. And my lifelong penpal, Percy Pinkbottom, who resides in Wigan. Their heads are as bald as worn out car tyres. They'll be ecstatic!'

Mr Wonka and Charlie finally reached the end of their current passage. 'Now for breakfast. I don't know about you, but my tummy is twitching like mad.' Charlie nodded in agreement. 'Right, let's fill our faces and...have you ever tasted pond food?'

'This is where I have breakfast. Usually on my own, occasionally on the phone; you'll love it here - early morning preparation in peace and quiet...ish.'

Charlie gazed at the gigantic room which was almost empty. Once again there weren't any windows. 'Mr Wonka, what is pond food? And, why are so many rooms windowless?'

'To stop the peepers,' replied Mr Wonka instantly. 'The nosey peepers, the spies and cheaters, and the sneaky-eyed window cleaners!'

'But... ummm... I...'

'With few windows to clean, not much naughty can be seen!'

They both rested their bottoms on incredibly low chairs around an incredibly low table. A strip light the length of a bowling green shone brightly above and a huge painting of an elderly woman poking out her tongue hung proudly in the centre of the room.

'Why are we sitting so close to the floor?' asked Charlie.

Mr Wonka glanced down at the wooden panels and mumbled, 'It's good for the joints. Stretching in the morning is very important, and, sadly, very easy to forget. It's also easier for...' Then he clicked his fingers and an oompa loompa wearing a tall white hat scuttled through a pair of flippy flappy doors built into the far wall. After handing them each a menu the oompa loompa waited patiently, as Mr Wonka read aloud:

" Snails - shelled or unshelled

 Slugs - chopped or mashed

 Frogs legs - springy or stretched

 Pigs tails - coiled or uncoiled

 Tadpole yoghurt

 Grilled goldfish on toast

 Crunchy grasshoppers with not-so-fresh milk. "

Charlie dragged his startled eyes away from the menu in panic. 'I don't quite fancy any of those. Can I please have toast and jam?'

'Breakfast is the fuel-filled meal of the day. It lets your mind out to play, and keeps tummy groans away,' replied Mr Wonka. 'A-ha! Great! Grand! Splendid! Snails are still available!'

'But I don't think I can stomach any of them.'

'My nervous boy, give them a try. Give them a bash! We also have birds eyes - a stash. But they're frozen. So...'

The oompa loompa focused on Charlie with anticipation. 'Raspberry jam on toast and a glass of orange juice, please,' he muttered, hopefully. 

The oompa loompa jotted his order down on his orange pad with his orange pencil. 

'I'll have,' commanded Mr Wonka, 'a LARGE bowl of snails, some shelled, some unshelled; a pot of tea and a cup of creamy coffee with two and a quarter coconut drops.' The oompa loompa worked his pencil once more and scuttled back through the flippy flappy doors. 'Now, Charlie. Tell me all about this new idea of yours...'Customers have questions, you have answers. Display the most frequently asked questions, so everybody benefits.

'Edible Christmas trees could be a winner!' thrilled Mr Wonka, randomly. 'Come the new year, there'd be no need to clear them away. Trips to the loft would be eradicated for zillions!'

Charlie sat in a deep daze. His young mind must have been working hard because when Mr Wonka poked out his tongue like the lady in the picture, he didn't even blink. Suddenly, he returned to action with a buzz. 'The idea that entered my head was about children, at school.'

'Children? School?' replied the great man. 'Do go on...' 

Charlie scratched his forehead and wiggled his right earlobe with his left pinky. 'You see, school can, for many children, from time to time, become extremely bland.'

Mr Wonka gazed at his new friend and twiddled his hair with his forefingers. 

'Sometimes, lessons turn dull and boring. At the back of the class you can even hear snoring,' went on Charlie, softly. 'I believe my dream can be a way to liven up classes. It could help children's interest grow - and make learning exciting.'

Mr Wonka's lips flickered.

'My idea was... is... to introduce chocolate lessons. Pupils throughout the country could join in; around the world it could take off...'

Mr Wonka clapped his hands as hard as he could manage. After a few seconds' pause - he clapped them again; harder still. The rude painting swung on its hook and the flippy flappy doors rattled hectically. 'I like it!' he erupted. 'I really like it! In fact, I love it! Chocolate lessons, what a wonderful idea!'

'I hope it can encourage...'

'There could be Chocolate History; Chocolate Geography; Chocolate Science...'

'Chocolate Maths,' interrupted Charlie.

'Of course! How marvellous! How magical! Every child would love to add up the number of chocolate bars they have gobbled. And deduct the percentage that's melted away if left exposed on a scorching day!'

'The opportunities are endless!' squawked Charlie.

Mr Wonka's smile beamed as yet another chocolate invention entered the pipeline. 

And, as the hat-wearing oompa loompa served breakfast, Charlie discovered that raspberry jam hides the most bizarre talent...

Like oversized rolling pins, Charlie Bucket and Mr Wonka rolled about on the shiny wooden flooring in fits of laughter. It was the most peculiar sight! 'Every time I took a bite!' giggled Charlie. And Mr Wonka replied with loud farting sounds from his mouth!

Then Mr Wonka replied, 'With every bite...' And Charlie's mouth released even ruder fart noises!

'I love that jam blowing raspberries,' delighted the young boy amongst a ripple of rudeness.

'But, we must crack on with our work,' declared Mr Wonka, releasing another raspberry from his lips!

* * * *

With sore tummies and aching tongues, Charlie and Mr Wonka slouched in the factory office with pads of yellow writing paper on their laps. Mr Wonka's snail-breath caused Charlie to pull strange faces as the pong lingered mid-air, and the chairs they each relaxed in appeared to contain several sets of springs!

The office wasn't large, but neither was it small. The floor was covered in a fluffy cream-coloured carpet and the four walls were painted in pure white and strawberry diagonal stripes. It was like sitting inside a ginormous glass of milkshake!  

'What about a competition?' said Charlie, breaking the silence and doodling pair of hands.

Mr Wonka started to suck on the rubber at the end of his pencil. Then he began to nibble. Next, a small stream of dribble meandered down his hairy chin until it splodged onto the paper below. 'I've got it! Yes! Fabulous! Fantastic!'

Charlie stared at Mr Wonka - and waited. He had learned that whenever the great man went off into the world inside his mind - wonder would soon flow. And here it was...

'Special rubbers!'

Charlie nodded in agreement.

'All different flavours - at the end of pencils. Chocolate stimulates the brain, and, any child stuck can have a cheeky suck. Whoosh they'll go with their work!'

'What type of flavours, Mr Wonka?'

'Hazelnut Delight; Walnut Whipple; Fiery Fudge; Tangy Treacle; Ghost Chilli Gurners; the choices are limitless!'

'But when the page is rubbed, it will have a brown smudge and be all sticky and messy,' added Charlie, looking a trifle puzzled.

'Then they can lick the page! The more chocolate the merrier!'

'But their chocolatey tongue will coat the page further! There'll be chocolate everywhere!'

'Hmmmmm. There's always a snag,' sighed Mr Wonka as he tickled his eyebrows with the back of his thumbs.

'I suppose now I'm the boss, I'll have to find a way. I'll need to overcome this hurdle,' replied Charlie, enthusiastically.

'Yes, never let those hurdles stand in your way. Skip, hop, leap, jump, belly flop or do whatever you can to get over them. In life they often appear - but don't face any with an ounce of fear. There's not a single hurdle in this experience that cannot be conquered.'

Charlie and Willy Wonka were forming an incredible partnership. They had begun work on the most mesmerising creations that would change the world of chocolate even more so than the eccentric master had done already.

'What about a competition to design chocolate-smudge-prevention paper? The first pupil to invent it wins a year's supply of chocolate!'

Mr Wonka shot into the air with elation. His bottom left its springy chair so fast that a great gust of wind blew a tall pile of papers from the edge of the nearby desk with him. They slowly descended onto the carpet randomly, like giant pieces of a jigsaw.

'Yippy zippy, Charlie! What a team we are!'

Charlie made a note of the chocolate rubbers and smudgeless page competition. But then, another, even brighter idea flashed into his head like a disco light. Charlie squinted as his pencil whirled because the idea was so powerful. And something  dangerous was brewing...

' Wheeeee! 

 Wheeeee! 

 Wa-heeeee!' excited Charlie, his ruffled hair stroking the office ceiling.

' Wheeeee!

 Ha-heeeee!

 Buzzy bumble-beeeee!' thrilled Mr Wonka, his backside springing off his seat for the hundred and fiftieth time!

Up and down, down and up the two rocketed, filling the ether with tummy-tingling nonsense. The spring-loaded chairs provided their eager bums with boost after boost after boost as pieces of plaster fell like snow.

This fillet of fun lasted twenty-two minutes before, at last, the puffing partners tired. 'I hope you're not going to doze off on me just yet,' muttered an exhausted Mr Wonka. 'We have a long day ahead and few things still to do!'

'I'm arrr-arrr-arrrrrrrrrr... fine,' he replied. And then the strangest of strange noises escaped into the room. It caused Mr Wonka to rock backwards in his seat!

'I am terribly sorry,' apologised Charlie. 'I just did a yawn-burp!'

'I know full well what you did, boy! The echoes and vibrations can probably be experienced on the Moon!'

Charlie grinned, triumphantly.

'The last person I witnessed doing a yawn-burp caused two old ladies to wibble and wobble. They ended up noses first in the fruit and veg section of the food shop. As flat as a pair of pancakes they were! One of the o!d dears landed in a pile of plums. And the other, unfortunately for her, picked the extra hot chilli peppers! The poor, poor purple-rinsed prune was sneezing for a week. And her face was stingingly sore: it turned red raw!'

'But I only did my yawn-burp privately,' responded Charlie, disappointedly.

'Private or not, these yawn burpy burp thingie-me-pigs always find a way of producing havoc. Energy cannot be destroyed. It's basic science.'

Charlie nodded in sorrow.

Mr Wonka smiled - exposing his teeth to the afterpong. 'I'm only kidding. I'm pulling your leg! But your breath reaks and I need a PEG!' Then he searched the office in desperation. 

Finally Willy Wonka caught sight of a large metallic clip that was attached to a slice of cucumber. He unclipped it in hurry and fastened it over the end of his nose. 'You see, Charlie, yawn-burps are one of the funniest events this world can experience from a human being. (His voice had become high-pitch and rather silly). 'They sound like a cross between a frog ribbiting and a lion roaring; and, sometimes, also a drunk man snoring. But all in all, they are rude and rough and... oh, I've had enough!' He removed the pong-preventer from his nose and tossed it into the air. 'Now... where were we?'

Just as Mr Wonka was approaching mid-sentence, the creaky office door flew open and an out-of-breath oompa loompa began to rant and rave in distress...