It is time to go back to the Writer, the Artist and Clorabella Swish, who are currently in the middle of a half painted desert.

‘I am unamused,’ declared Clorabella.

‘Oh dear,’ said the Writer, thinking to herself that she really should stop creating characters who frightened her. It was so difficult when she actually had to meet them. The trouble with this writing business was that characters took on a life of their own, and then went off and did and said things that the Writer found awkward and embarrassing.

‘You,’ said Clorabella emphatically, ‘are a disgrace to the writing profession. I mean, would any decent self-respecting author allow this sort of thing to happen to their characters? Eh, eh? Speak up! My people will have words with your people!’

‘What about?’ asked the Artist, interested.

Clorabella hesitated. The Writer shut her eyes and quaked.

‘Whether you are the right person to be writing about ME.’

The writer opened her eyes again and smiled.

‘Oh Clorabella, I’d never thought of it like that. Yes, why don’t you go and join forces with another writer!’

‘NO, NO, NO!’ Mr Glue appeared out of nowhere. ‘Absolutely not. I’m having a bad enough day as it is. Clorabella, you are needed in this story, since that idiot, Doctor Socks disappeared, and furthermore, I can’t just find a new writer in the middle of a story. Come on everyone, focus please. WE CANNOT LET DOWN THE READER!’

cross glue

Those words had an extraordinary effect on everyone. They stood to attention. They saluted. They took up the reins of the story…