....it was already full, for this was a city, a busy city, and it sang to the tune of Work, Work, Work.

Boys as a rule don’t notice bad smells, they’ve other things on their mind, but one boy did.

He told us they’d be a pack of ciggies in it for any man who could dribble it into Jerry’s trench!

Yet, this jovial, affable man with a gusto for gastronomy – now the richest man in Italy – came from very humble beginnings.

How merry it made me to hear of your success in battle and of the title so justly bestowed upon you by our noble king. To be thane of one ki

And with that, Verucca squeezed out one perfectly-formed, large tear, followed by another then another. That was quite enough for Mr Salt.

A recent educational report suggested that school uniforms were unneccesary, uncomfortable and outmoded.

I made these up about 10 years ago now, but I still use them and they are still popular. I talk about Dickens naming characters first and ci

Peter felt absolutely confident that automatic toilet roll dispensers were not going to be a viable investment.

Simon Bigwig got off the train wih copies of the Economist and the Financial Times tucked under his arm, his gaze fixed on fingers checking

Mrs Humphreys peered at Penelope through her half-rimmed spectacles. " Well," she said "Who was it? You might as well tell me Penelope...

Nancy Mouseman stood by herself in the playground. Once or twice she opened her mouth to speak, but then lost her nerve and remained silent

Fletcher assumed correctly that this was where the assailant was concealing the kompromat... Jack Fletcher had not spent his youth reading

It was at this point a small, cardboard oblong fell onto his lap. It was a bright red colour with silver squares upon it – along the top rea

Except, catching a T-bar such as this was a bit like catching The Snitch! Many a Brit had tried and failed to master the Austrian lift syste

His flashing eyes lit up the path of his flight; he crashed and creaked, thrashed and smashed.

Jimmy's heart was racing as he reached the river. Were they still following him? Had he lost them?

But they hear and they come and I know I am done!

WW2 Narrative Flashback - collaborative class write Looking down at my fingers now, I realise how old I am. The grey, wrinkly hands still...