Montibirdy, the owner of the biscuit factory, set off on his pedal-powered monticopter to find a market for his biscuits.
He skillfully flew over birdhouses, a cuckoo clock, a dovecote. . . and then completely misjudged the height of a gooseberry bush and crashed. Ouch!
He landed on a gingham cloth spread out on the ground.
“Hey!” said a birdman in a stripy blazer.
“Excuse me!” said Monty, all flustered.
“It’s all right,” said the birdman. “I laid it there to dry after it blew off my table and went in the river. I didn’t expect a birdman on a flying machine to crash on it!”
“I’m Monty,” said Monty, rubbing his elbows and bottom.
“I’m Percy,” said Percy.
Monty wasn’t injured, but his copter’s rotor blades were bent, and his hat and bow-tie had flown off on impact with the gingham. Monty touched his bare head and throat.
“There it goes!” said the birdman, pointing upwards, where Monty’s bow-tie was fluttering away on the breeze like a butterfly. A sudden gust took it over the trees and out of sight.
“And there’s my hat” said Monty, running over to the river. Monty tried to reach his panama with a stick, but it was whisked off on the current. They ran along the riverside, trying to keep abreast of the hat.
As they ran, Monty and Percy were surprised to see the hat suddenly shoot high into the air.
“I’ve caught a hat-fish!” shouted a tall, thin birdman with a fishing rod.
“It’s mine! My hat!” cried Monty.
“Here you go!” said the birdman, tossing it to Monty. “I’m trying to catch a fish, not a hat!”
“Thank you!” said Monty, putting the dripping hat on his head and quickly taking it off again.
“I’m Ron,” said the birdman with the fishing rod.
“I’m Monty,” said Monty.
“I’m Percy,” said Percy.
“I’m Feather!” said a birdlady, approaching from downstream with a big net. “I’ve caught a butterfly!”
“My bow-tie!” said Monty.
“Oh!” said Feather. “I thought it was a rare species!”
“Now I just need to fix my flying machine,” said Monty putting his tie back on.
“I can fix it!” said a new birdman, appearing from a squeaky gate. “I’m Pie. I’m a mechanic,” he said, putting some oil on the hinges of the gate.
“That’s better!” said Pie, swinging the gate, which was now squeakless.
Monty led the way back upstream to see the damaged monticopter. As they walked, Percy crunched on a brazil nut, Ron peered into the river, hoping to see trout or perch or possibly sardines. Feather waved her butterfly net around in the air, and Pie patted his overalls pockets to make sure he had all his spanners and other tools.
“Here we are!” said Monty, walking up to the crash site.
“Don’t touch it!” cried another birdman. “I’m painting it!”
Everybody went over to stand behind the birdman artist at his easel. They watched him putting the finishing touches to a picture of the gooseberry bush, the monticopter and the cloth.
“There we are..” said the birdman, “Finished!” He signed his name in the corner: ”Puff”.
“It’s very good!” said Feather. “You’ve captured the mood.”
“The cloth’s very good!” said Percy.
“Gooseberries!” said Ron.
“The copter’s in a bad state,” said Pie, looking closely at the painting.
“Yes,” said Monty, “Can you fix it?”
Pie took the painting off the easel and turned it this way and that, examining the damage.
“Careful!” cried Puff. “The paint’s still wet!”
“Yes, I think so!” said Pie. “It’ll take about an hour, guv.”
The mechanic went over to the real copter and set about fixing it. Percy took the cloth and laid it on a nice, dry, flat area a little way away, and they had a makeshift meal with a loaf of bread which Puff had intended to paint next, some anchovies, which Ron found in a tin in his pocket, a few brazil nuts and some gooseberries from the bush.
Just then a charming melody wafted over on the breeze. It was the sound of some kind of guitar. Everyone stopped munching to listen. Birds in the trees stopped tweeting.
“It’s fatastic!” said Percy.
“Sshh!” said Feather.
Then a voice began to sing.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard!” whispered Percy.
“Sshh!” said Monty.
They continued to listen in silence.
Monty wiped his eyes with his handkerchief.
Ron combed his large quiff slowly.
Feather tilted her head this way and that.
Pie stopped fixing the monticopter and stared into space.
Puff took out a sketchbook and his watercolour paints.
“You can’t paint music, can you?” whispered Percy.
“I can try!” whispered Puff.
“Sshh!” said Feather, Monty and Ron.
The music got a little louder and then they saw the singer. She was a beautiful birdgirl.
“Hello, I’m Song,” she said melodiously.
Still speechless, Ron beckoned her over, but she just waved and walked away, strumming her guitar.
They were all transfixed by the sound of Song’s music and couldn’t speak or move until it eventually faded away.
Then another sound started to fade in. At first they thought that Song was coming back, but this new sound was not beautiful at all. It was a harsh, jangly, horrible melody, and it was getting louder and louder.
“What is it!” cried Feather.
“Whaaghh!” said Ron, covering his ears.
Percy watched some wasps buzz around in wild zig-zags and fall onto the cloth, dazed.
Puff reacted with violent brush strokes in clashing colours. Pie found an oily cloth in his pocket and tied it around his head.
“It’s driving me mad!” shouted Monty, rolling around on the ground as the sound got closer and closer.
A strange-looking vehicle eventually pulled up next to them and an owl looked out from the driver’s seat. The terrible sound continued to blast from a speaker on the vehicle’s roof. Suddenly it stopped. The owl had switched it off.
“Are you all right?” said the owl.
“Who are you?!” said Percy. He thought his voice sounded small and strange in the new silence.
“My name is O.K.” said the owl. “This is Owl Kiosk. It’s a shop on wheels!”
“You nearly blew our heads off with that jingle!” said Monty.
“Is it too loud?” asked O.K.
“YES!” said everyone together.
“O.K. I’ll turn it down a little bit,” said O.K.
“Can you turn it down a big bit?” said Ron.
“O.K.” said O.K. “Do you want anything from my kiosk?”
“What kind of sandwiches have you got?” asked Percy.
“I’ll have a look,” said O.K., disappearing from the window of the kiosk.
“I haven’t got any sandwiches,” he said, reappearing at the window.
“Cake?” said Feather. “What kind of cakes do you have?”
“Just a minute...” said O.K., disappearing again. “Sorry, no cakes today.”
“Any snacks?” said Ron.
“No,” said O.K.
“Fruit?” asked Monty.
“Sorry,“ said O.K.
“Salad?” said Puff “I don’t even like salad, but have you got any?”
“Not today,” said O.K.
“Hot soup?” said Pie. “I like hot soup! Have you got any soup? I bet you haven’t.”
“You’re right,” said O.K.
“What have you got?” asked Pie.
“Just a second,” said Pie, disappearing again.
“I’ve got some beans,” said O.K. holding up two tins. “Do you like beans? They’re on special offer!”
“Excuse me for saying this,” said Percy, but your kiosk isn’t very well stocked is it?”
“It’s the first day, today,” said O.K. “It’s going to get better. I’m finding out what there’s a demand for - what people want. I thought everybody would want beans.”
The two tins of beans were purchased and O.K. said he would be around again the next day with all the things they wanted. He switched on the kiosk’s motor and the horrible jingle blared out again, although not as loud as before.
They all watched as the kiosk trundled quickly away. The sound of the jingle continued for a long time after Owl Kiosk went out of sight, and the new friends gradually got back to their meal on the grass, now boosted by beans.
A few minutes later, Pie shouted:
“It’s fixed!”
“Great!” said Monty, climbing onto the seat of the copter.
He pedalled energetically and rose steadily into the air. He circled around the spot a couple of times, then shot off.
“Well, there’s gratitude!” said Pie, annoyed.
“He was quite jolly up till then,” said Percy.
“Polite as anything,” said Feather.
They all went quiet for a little while.
Ron was wondering what to say when they heard the sound of the copter coming back.
“He must have forgotten something!” said Puff.
“I’m back!” cried Monty as he landed bumpily. “I went to get some biscuits!”
Monty took several packets of biscuits from his jacket pockets and a bottle of apple juice from the satchel attached under the seat of the copter.
“Here we are!” he said handing them around.
Everyone was happy to know Monty hadn’t deserted them and tucked in to the biscuits.
“These are great!” said Ron.
“Yes, delicious!” said Feather.
“Grandibobulous!” said Percy, who sometimes made words up.
Everyone agreed that Montibirdy’s biscuits were really excellent, and Monty was chuffed.
“I’m glad to. . . “ he started to say, but suddenly there was a lot of frantic whistling from over the trees.
“What’s going on!” said Percy, bemused.
A policebirdman appeared and saluted.
“Ah, there you are, sir!” he said to Monty.
“Sergeant Bill!” said Monty. “What’s happened?”
Another policebirdman appeared, similar to the first, but more rotund.
“An intruder!” he said, huffing and puffing and saluting. “Someone got into the biscuit factory, sir!”
“Oh, dear! I must have left the door open!” said Monty, putting his hat on and getting up from the ground. “Anything stolen, Sergeant Bobby?”
“Some biscuits, sir!” said Sgt. Bobby.
Everyone gasped.
“We suspect it was Violet,” said Sgt. Bill.
“Did you see her?” asked Monty.
“Yes, sir,” said Sgt. Bill. “We got visual recognition of the suspect, running away with a cream crumble in her beak, sir.”
“She, that is, the suspect, sir, was carrying a large bag, sir. Possibly full of biscuits, sir!” added Sgt. Bobby.
“Well, get after her!” shouted Monty.
“Yes, sir!” said the two policebirdmen together.
They ran off, blowing their policebird whistles.
Percy, Monty, Feather, Ron, Puff and Pie finished off the few remaining morsels.
“We should do this again!” said Percy, folding up his tablecloth.
“Yes, it was fun!” said Feather.
“Cool!” said Ron.
“What should we call it?” wondered Puff. “A “dip-pig”?”
“How about a “wig-wag”?” suggested Pie.
“Or a “nicnac”?” said Ron.
“A “nicpic”?” said Feather.
“I’ve got it!” said Percy, who was good at making up words. “A “picnic”!”
Everyone cheered and agreed that was definitely the right word.
There were many more picnics to come, of course, and many more adventures too.
End of The Origin of Percy & his friends and how picnics were invented
He skillfully flew over birdhouses, a cuckoo clock, a dovecote. . . and then completely misjudged the height of a gooseberry bush and crashed. Ouch!
He landed on a gingham cloth spread out on the ground.
“Hey!” said a birdman in a stripy blazer.
“Excuse me!” said Monty, all flustered.
“It’s all right,” said the birdman. “I laid it there to dry after it blew off my table and went in the river. I didn’t expect a birdman on a flying machine to crash on it!”
“I’m Monty,” said Monty, rubbing his elbows and bottom.
“I’m Percy,” said Percy.
Monty wasn’t injured, but his copter’s rotor blades were bent, and his hat and bow-tie had flown off on impact with the gingham. Monty touched his bare head and throat.
“There it goes!” said the birdman, pointing upwards, where Monty’s bow-tie was fluttering away on the breeze like a butterfly. A sudden gust took it over the trees and out of sight.
“And there’s my hat” said Monty, running over to the river. Monty tried to reach his panama with a stick, but it was whisked off on the current. They ran along the riverside, trying to keep abreast of the hat.
As they ran, Monty and Percy were surprised to see the hat suddenly shoot high into the air.
“I’ve caught a hat-fish!” shouted a tall, thin birdman with a fishing rod.
“It’s mine! My hat!” cried Monty.
“Here you go!” said the birdman, tossing it to Monty. “I’m trying to catch a fish, not a hat!”
“Thank you!” said Monty, putting the dripping hat on his head and quickly taking it off again.
“I’m Ron,” said the birdman with the fishing rod.
“I’m Monty,” said Monty.
“I’m Percy,” said Percy.
“I’m Feather!” said a birdlady, approaching from downstream with a big net. “I’ve caught a butterfly!”
“My bow-tie!” said Monty.
“Oh!” said Feather. “I thought it was a rare species!”
“Now I just need to fix my flying machine,” said Monty putting his tie back on.
“I can fix it!” said a new birdman, appearing from a squeaky gate. “I’m Pie. I’m a mechanic,” he said, putting some oil on the hinges of the gate.
“That’s better!” said Pie, swinging the gate, which was now squeakless.
Monty led the way back upstream to see the damaged monticopter. As they walked, Percy crunched on a brazil nut, Ron peered into the river, hoping to see trout or perch or possibly sardines. Feather waved her butterfly net around in the air, and Pie patted his overalls pockets to make sure he had all his spanners and other tools.
“Here we are!” said Monty, walking up to the crash site.
“Don’t touch it!” cried another birdman. “I’m painting it!”
Everybody went over to stand behind the birdman artist at his easel. They watched him putting the finishing touches to a picture of the gooseberry bush, the monticopter and the cloth.
“There we are..” said the birdman, “Finished!” He signed his name in the corner: ”Puff”.
“It’s very good!” said Feather. “You’ve captured the mood.”
“The cloth’s very good!” said Percy.
“Gooseberries!” said Ron.
“The copter’s in a bad state,” said Pie, looking closely at the painting.
“Yes,” said Monty, “Can you fix it?”
Pie took the painting off the easel and turned it this way and that, examining the damage.
“Careful!” cried Puff. “The paint’s still wet!”
“Yes, I think so!” said Pie. “It’ll take about an hour, guv.”
The mechanic went over to the real copter and set about fixing it. Percy took the cloth and laid it on a nice, dry, flat area a little way away, and they had a makeshift meal with a loaf of bread which Puff had intended to paint next, some anchovies, which Ron found in a tin in his pocket, a few brazil nuts and some gooseberries from the bush.
Just then a charming melody wafted over on the breeze. It was the sound of some kind of guitar. Everyone stopped munching to listen. Birds in the trees stopped tweeting.
“It’s fatastic!” said Percy.
“Sshh!” said Feather.
Then a voice began to sing.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard!” whispered Percy.
“Sshh!” said Monty.
They continued to listen in silence.
Monty wiped his eyes with his handkerchief.
Ron combed his large quiff slowly.
Feather tilted her head this way and that.
Pie stopped fixing the monticopter and stared into space.
Puff took out a sketchbook and his watercolour paints.
“You can’t paint music, can you?” whispered Percy.
“I can try!” whispered Puff.
“Sshh!” said Feather, Monty and Ron.
The music got a little louder and then they saw the singer. She was a beautiful birdgirl.
“Hello, I’m Song,” she said melodiously.
Still speechless, Ron beckoned her over, but she just waved and walked away, strumming her guitar.
They were all transfixed by the sound of Song’s music and couldn’t speak or move until it eventually faded away.
Then another sound started to fade in. At first they thought that Song was coming back, but this new sound was not beautiful at all. It was a harsh, jangly, horrible melody, and it was getting louder and louder.
“What is it!” cried Feather.
“Whaaghh!” said Ron, covering his ears.
Percy watched some wasps buzz around in wild zig-zags and fall onto the cloth, dazed.
Puff reacted with violent brush strokes in clashing colours. Pie found an oily cloth in his pocket and tied it around his head.
“It’s driving me mad!” shouted Monty, rolling around on the ground as the sound got closer and closer.
A strange-looking vehicle eventually pulled up next to them and an owl looked out from the driver’s seat. The terrible sound continued to blast from a speaker on the vehicle’s roof. Suddenly it stopped. The owl had switched it off.
“Are you all right?” said the owl.
“Who are you?!” said Percy. He thought his voice sounded small and strange in the new silence.
“My name is O.K.” said the owl. “This is Owl Kiosk. It’s a shop on wheels!”
“You nearly blew our heads off with that jingle!” said Monty.
“Is it too loud?” asked O.K.
“YES!” said everyone together.
“O.K. I’ll turn it down a little bit,” said O.K.
“Can you turn it down a big bit?” said Ron.
“O.K.” said O.K. “Do you want anything from my kiosk?”
“What kind of sandwiches have you got?” asked Percy.
“I’ll have a look,” said O.K., disappearing from the window of the kiosk.
“I haven’t got any sandwiches,” he said, reappearing at the window.
“Cake?” said Feather. “What kind of cakes do you have?”
“Just a minute...” said O.K., disappearing again. “Sorry, no cakes today.”
“Any snacks?” said Ron.
“No,” said O.K.
“Fruit?” asked Monty.
“Sorry,“ said O.K.
“Salad?” said Puff “I don’t even like salad, but have you got any?”
“Not today,” said O.K.
“Hot soup?” said Pie. “I like hot soup! Have you got any soup? I bet you haven’t.”
“You’re right,” said O.K.
“What have you got?” asked Pie.
“Just a second,” said Pie, disappearing again.
“I’ve got some beans,” said O.K. holding up two tins. “Do you like beans? They’re on special offer!”
“Excuse me for saying this,” said Percy, but your kiosk isn’t very well stocked is it?”
“It’s the first day, today,” said O.K. “It’s going to get better. I’m finding out what there’s a demand for - what people want. I thought everybody would want beans.”
The two tins of beans were purchased and O.K. said he would be around again the next day with all the things they wanted. He switched on the kiosk’s motor and the horrible jingle blared out again, although not as loud as before.
They all watched as the kiosk trundled quickly away. The sound of the jingle continued for a long time after Owl Kiosk went out of sight, and the new friends gradually got back to their meal on the grass, now boosted by beans.
A few minutes later, Pie shouted:
“It’s fixed!”
“Great!” said Monty, climbing onto the seat of the copter.
He pedalled energetically and rose steadily into the air. He circled around the spot a couple of times, then shot off.
“Well, there’s gratitude!” said Pie, annoyed.
“He was quite jolly up till then,” said Percy.
“Polite as anything,” said Feather.
They all went quiet for a little while.
Ron was wondering what to say when they heard the sound of the copter coming back.
“He must have forgotten something!” said Puff.
“I’m back!” cried Monty as he landed bumpily. “I went to get some biscuits!”
Monty took several packets of biscuits from his jacket pockets and a bottle of apple juice from the satchel attached under the seat of the copter.
“Here we are!” he said handing them around.
Everyone was happy to know Monty hadn’t deserted them and tucked in to the biscuits.
“These are great!” said Ron.
“Yes, delicious!” said Feather.
“Grandibobulous!” said Percy, who sometimes made words up.
Everyone agreed that Montibirdy’s biscuits were really excellent, and Monty was chuffed.
“I’m glad to. . . “ he started to say, but suddenly there was a lot of frantic whistling from over the trees.
“What’s going on!” said Percy, bemused.
A policebirdman appeared and saluted.
“Ah, there you are, sir!” he said to Monty.
“Sergeant Bill!” said Monty. “What’s happened?”
Another policebirdman appeared, similar to the first, but more rotund.
“An intruder!” he said, huffing and puffing and saluting. “Someone got into the biscuit factory, sir!”
“Oh, dear! I must have left the door open!” said Monty, putting his hat on and getting up from the ground. “Anything stolen, Sergeant Bobby?”
“Some biscuits, sir!” said Sgt. Bobby.
Everyone gasped.
“We suspect it was Violet,” said Sgt. Bill.
“Did you see her?” asked Monty.
“Yes, sir,” said Sgt. Bill. “We got visual recognition of the suspect, running away with a cream crumble in her beak, sir.”
“She, that is, the suspect, sir, was carrying a large bag, sir. Possibly full of biscuits, sir!” added Sgt. Bobby.
“Well, get after her!” shouted Monty.
“Yes, sir!” said the two policebirdmen together.
They ran off, blowing their policebird whistles.
Percy, Monty, Feather, Ron, Puff and Pie finished off the few remaining morsels.
“We should do this again!” said Percy, folding up his tablecloth.
“Yes, it was fun!” said Feather.
“Cool!” said Ron.
“What should we call it?” wondered Puff. “A “dip-pig”?”
“How about a “wig-wag”?” suggested Pie.
“Or a “nicnac”?” said Ron.
“A “nicpic”?” said Feather.
“I’ve got it!” said Percy, who was good at making up words. “A “picnic”!”
Everyone cheered and agreed that was definitely the right word.
There were many more picnics to come, of course, and many more adventures too.
End of The Origin of Percy & his friends and how picnics were invented