I am so over being a Loser. Jim Smith

      ‘Nice helmet, Barold!’ said Gordon Smugly, walking past and bonking me on the head so hard my legs did a wobble and one of my helmet straps flicked me in the eye and made me blink.

      ‘Perfectamondo!’ smiled Gaspar, and his camera flashed in my face.

      

      Anton and Gaspar were fiddling around on the computer in the corner of the classroom when I walked in with Bunky, playing it keel times a million.

      ‘Arrr! Good morning me hearties!’ shouted Miss Spivak, who’s been our teacher since Mr Hodgepodge went on a six-month cruise around the North Pole with my granny.

      There was a parrot on her shoulder and she was carrying a sword and had an eyepatch on and one of her legs was a wooden stump.

      ‘What’s good about it?’ said the parrot, which was the only bit of Miss Spivak’s outfit that wasn’t weird, because he’s our class parrot that we adopted from Mogden Zoo when it closed down last year.

      ‘Well for starters it’s Show and Tell,’ said Miss Spivak, putting the sword down and pulling her leg out of the wooden stump. ‘I’ll go first. Can anyone tell me what this is? Yes, that’s right, it’s an eyepatch. Who knows why pirates used to wear them?’ she said, all in one go.

      ‘Me!’ shouted Darren.

      ‘Yes, Darren?’ said Miss Spivak.

      ‘I dunno,’ said Darren, and we all did a little snortle.

      ‘Was it for when they got a sword poked in their eyeball?’ said Tracy Pilchard, jangling with jewellery like she was a pirate herself.

      ‘That’s right, Tracy. Mind-boggling, isn’t it!’ said Miss Spivak, poking the plastic sword into her eyepatch. It was one of those swords where the blade pushes into the handle, and everyone gasped.

      ‘Mind-boggling!’ screeched the parrot, whose name is Honk, and I thanked keelness the zoo closed down, otherwise we’d just have a hamster.

      I’d forgotten it was Show and Tell, so I was rummaging around in my rucksack for something keel to talk about when I saw Anton’s and Gaspar’s stupid feet walking to the front of the classroom.

      ‘Hot off the press!’ said Anton, holding up a sheet of paper with ‘The Daily Poo’ typed out at the top.

      Underneath was a photo of me. My bum was wiggling from where my legs had gone wobbly, and I was winking from the helmet strap that’d hit me in the eye.

      ‘Just like his mumsy!’ said Gordon from the back of the classroom, and everyone laughed, and I rolled my eyes to myself because I know for a fact he calls his mum ‘Mama’.

      I was still rummaging around in my rucksack, which meant my nose was near my knee, and a waft of tomato ketchup went up my nostrils and gave me an amazekeel idea for how to stop them laughing.

      There’s a bit in every Future Ratboy episode where he treads in a dog poo and waggles his foot in the air.

      ‘By the power of smelly shoe . . .’ he shouts, and his enemies run off screaming.

      ‘Get your OWN mumsy!’ I shouted, hopping up to the front of the classroom with my leg bobbing around in front of me.

      ‘By the power of smelly knee . . .’ I said, waving it in front of Anton’s and Gaspar’s noses.

      ‘Get a photo, Gaspar, he’s gone completely stark raving bonkers!’ said Anton, holding his Daily Poo up to protect himself from my knee.

      I grabbed the newspaper and scrunched it into a snowball and aimed it at Gordon Smugly’s nose. The only problem is, I’m rubbish at throwing.

      ‘Mind-boggling!’ screeched Honk as the snowball whizzed past his beak and hit Miss Spivak in the eye, which luckily for me was still underneath her pirate eyepatch.

      I glanced over at Bunky and high fived him with my eyes, which is what we do when something like this happens.

      ‘That’s it Loser, outside NOW!’ screeched Miss Spivak, although it could have been Honk, because I wasn’t really looking.