The cleverest man in the world is called Mr Billy Bubbler. He can invent just about anything you want. He has a marvellous workshop full of wheels and wires and buckets of glue and huge pots full of thick foaming stuff that gives off smoke in many colours. There are old motorcar tyres, baskets of carrots and electric machines and sewing machines and fizzy-drink machines and bath tubs and cow's teeth and rice puddings and old shoes and everything else Mr Bubbler needs to make his wonderful inventions.
Mr Bubbler also has a large collection of scientific equipment that was imported when he was a small boy, from Antarctica. It was handed down to him from his father. There are glass tubes and glass jars and multi-coloured coils made from plastic and silicone and rubber, but the best bit, the most unusual item in his scientific gathering is: The Transfer Box.
The Transfer Box stands three feet tall and two feet wide - and deep inside its shiny aluminium walls there rests a ginormous host of invisible waves. Waves so powerful and so dangerous that only those with a tremendous brain must dare insert any part of their body. A large label attached to the side wall of The Transfer Box reads:
DANGER
WAVES OF DESTRUCTION
DO NOT ENTER AN ARM OR LEG OR FOOT OR HAND OR... HEAD - UNLESS COMPETENT TO DO SO. THESE WAVES ARE EXTREMELY POWERFUL. AND DANGEROUS. BEWARE!
Mr Bubbler is probably the only person alive in the world today sufficiently trained to operate this wonderful Transfer Box. And operate it one day he did - and this is what happened...
1
'Oh my, this shall be the day
With The Transfer Box I play!'
sang Billy Bubbler one warm Sunday morning as he watered his Sour-Sharp Tree. 'I hope some of you naughty sour, and some of you cheeky sharp berries are soon ripe to pick.'
The apricot sun sat patiently in the pale blue sky that was filled most randomly with candyfloss shaped clouds. A choir of tone-deaf birds started up in the background, and once more away he went:
'Transfer Box, oh my, let's see
What great fun you'll bring to me!'
Mr Bubbler entered his marvellous workshop and rubbed his hands together eagerly. 'Now, first of all,' he mumbled excitedly, 'I shall need to slide on my Stay-Out Goggles.' Then he began to search through a gigantic cardboard box that was covered in dust and spider webs and feathers and blinkfast beetles. 'A-ha, here they are. Now I need my Transfer-Proof Gloves.'
Shortly, a pair of leather gloves covered in pink and blue spots emerged from the same box. 'On you slip to keep me safe,' Mr Bubbler muttered as his eyes began to focus on the main object.
Standing silently in the corner of the workshop was The Transfer Box. Baskets of parsnips and plums and coils of cables and wires and old plug heads were piled in front of the remarkable object that had never been put to use. Mr Bubbler scratched his hairy chin and tapped the side of his head whilst in deep thought. 'Right... I shall need the instruction manual and... and... a human guinea pig!' And with that, he shuffled closer towards the box. 'I've read and re-read the manual dozens and dozens of times with my dearly departed father and have polished The Box so it sparkles, but just to be on the safe side, I shall give it one more skim!'
Away went Mr Bubbler's bulging eyes as he whipped the tatty old manual from a tub of conkers and scanned intently. For some strange reason, a bright yellow glow flashed outwards as he read. 'Let's try fun-extreme!' he yodelled into The Transfer Box, while tossing the manual back amongst the conkers. Then he jumped up and down like a kid on a bouncy castle.
'I must find a child. A clever young child. A child who deserves to have great fun! And, maybe, hopefully, possibly, fingers crossed, brilliant experiences will come to them, and to me, and perhaps to every child who wishes for such pleasure!' And with that, Mr Bubbler skipped out his workshop with a beaming smile on his bloated face.
