Teacher held for teddy bear 'blasphemy'
A British primary school teacher in
***
In a world where Piglet’s nearly chopped liver, where even Friends and Relations cannot help,
One bear stands alone against the heffalumps.
He's back.
He's mad.
'Get those bloody mortars up on the ridge Tiger Lily,' ordered Bill Badger.
The Chinese girl and Algy Pug struggled up the hill, a box of ammunition swinging between them on webbing straps.
As they scraped out a makeshift firing position just below the skyline, Bill heard the flat crack of the new sniper rifle with which the platoon's marksman had recently been issued. The sergeant grunted with satisfaction. Edward Trunk would keep the enemy's heads down all the way to the outskirts of Nutwood, and that would make it easier for the lads in the forward positions as the advance proceeded.
Raggety and a squad of Spring Elves were crawling across open the ground towards the burning village and had taken cover behind a crashed and twisted sleigh. The boneless shapes of reindeers were bloating up in the warm April sunlight.
Bill's shaving-brush muzzle shook with a cough as he gazed across the deserted cow pasture beyond.
It wasn't the gun smoke: his TB was playing up again.
Whump! Whump! Whump!
Tiger Lily's mortars landed right on the money; perfectly spaced around the enemy's forward position in The Professor's orchard.
'Bloody good suppressing fire, that,' murmured Sergeant Badger to himself.
Now, if only the new Lieutenant managed not to do something incredibly naïve and foolish, they might just get out of this alive…
'So, English infidel, now will you talk?' The beating stopped for a moment.
P squinted up from below ragged, sawdust-covered brows. Kapok leaked from torn seams.
'Actually, old boy,' he drawled, ' I'm from Darkest Peru.'
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