Day: May 15, 2026

Chapter 1 – Ratty, Toad, and the River Witwo

Ratty sat very proudly beside the River Witwo with an extremely long bamboo fishing rod balanced on one knee, even though the rod bent about as much as a piece of wet spaghetti and looked as if it had once belonged to a garden scarecrow. The water moved slowly beneath the sunshine while dragonflies skimmed across the river like tiny flying boats.

Toad marched down the riverbank in a huge coat with shiny brass buttons, carrying a picnic basket that smelled suspiciously of burnt sausages.

“Ratty,” said Toad loudly, “this is a river, witwo… where are all the fish?”

Ratty frowned very seriously and adjusted his fishing hat.

“Toad, I know it’s a river witwo. Why are you being so ratty about it?”

“I’m not being ratty,” said Toad. “You’re Ratty. I’m merely observating.”

“You mean observing,” muttered Ratty.

“That as well,” said Toad proudly. “Now answer the important question. Are fish male or female?”

Ratty blinked several times.

“Well,” he replied slowly, “it is a river, witwo… why exactly are you asking me that?”

“To see whether they prefer cheese sandwiches or jam tarts,” said Toad confidently.

Ratty sighed so heavily that a nearby duck looked offended and paddled away.

“Toad,” he groaned, “fish do not choose bait according to gender.”

“Well they ought to,” said Toad. “Civilisation depends upon standards.”

Ratty stared at the river for another long moment.

“I haven’t caught anything all day,” he admitted sadly.

“That’s because,” announced Toad while pointing dramatically at the rod, “your fishing rod looks like it was made from leftover bamboo curtain poles.”

“It is a bamboo rod,” snapped Ratty.

“Exactly,” said Toad. “Even the fish are laughing.”

Just then something splashed loudly in the water.

Ratty leapt up excitedly.

“I’ve got one! I’ve got one!”

But after several seconds of struggling and wobbling backwards into a bush, Ratty pulled out nothing except an old boot and what appeared to be half a teapot lid.

Toad burst into laughter so hard he nearly fell into the river.

“Well done, Ratty! At this rate you’ll catch the entire kitchen by Thursday!”

Ratty threw the boot behind him with great annoyance.

“Toad,” he muttered, “I am trying to enjoy peaceful riverside fishing.”

“Well I’m trying to enjoy peaceful riverside driving,” said Toad, puffing out his chest proudly. “I’m going to Badger’s house in my motor-car. Are you coming?”

Ratty hesitated.

“Does your car still make that horrible exploding noise?”

“To my knowledge,” said Toad proudly, “only on hills, corners, straight roads, and Tuesdays.”

Ratty looked worried.

“That sounds unsafe.”

“Nonsense,” said Toad. “It merely adds excitement.”

Ratty packed away his fishing things very slowly.

“Well,” he sighed, “I certainly didn’t catch anything today.”

“Toad Witwo Fish Sticks!” shouted Toad for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

Ratty looked completely confused.

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” said Toad cheerfully. “But it sounds important.”

And with that, the two friends marched off toward Badger’s house while the abandoned boot slowly floated downstream like a very disappointed submarine.

Copyright Simon Gemmill

Chapter 2 – A Visit to Badger

Deep beneath the hillside, Badger sat comfortably in his underground kitchen beside a crackling fire, reading an old newspaper titled The Woodland Weekly & Cheese Advertiser. He had just poured himself a warm drink when suddenly—

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Badger nearly dropped his mug.

“Oh dear,” he grumbled. “That knocking can only mean trouble… or Toad… which is usually the same thing.”

Outside the door stood Ratty and Toad, both dripping slightly from the rain.

Toad continued knocking even though Badger had already opened the door.

“Yes, yes, I’m here!” said Badger. “You don’t need to knock the hinges off.”

“Hello Badger, hello Badger!” shouted Toad happily. “May we come in please, witwo?”

Ratty politely removed his hat.

“Good evening, Badger.”

Badger stepped aside with a sigh.

“Yes, come in please before Toad starts knocking in rhythm.”

The two entered the cosy underground hallway while Toad immediately began drying himself beside the fire as though he owned the place.

“Hello Ratty, hello Toady,” said Badger. “Would either of you like tea?”

“Fish sticks!” announced Toad.

Badger blinked.

“I shall assume that means yes.”

Ratty sat down heavily in a chair.

“You’ll be pleased to know,” said Toad, “that Ratty caught absolutely nothing at the river today except a boot and possibly part of a teapot.”

Ratty looked offended.

“It was a respectable boot.”

Badger raised an eyebrow.

“You did not catch any fish then?”

“No,” admitted Ratty sadly.

“To be fair,” said Toad, “he was fishing with what looked like bamboo garden furniture.”

Ratty immediately pointed at his fishing rod.

“It is a perfectly good bamboo rod!”

Badger leaned forward thoughtfully.

“Bamboo?” he said. “Where did you get the idea for that?”

Ratty straightened proudly.

“I looked it up on Bear Grylls’ website, witwo fish sticks.”

Badger paused.

“Are you absolutely certain,” he asked slowly, “that it wasn’t a website about bears and girls?”

Ratty frowned deeply.

“Well… there were camping tips…”

“Toad,” said Badger quietly, “please tell me Ratty did not attempt wilderness survival beside a shallow riverbank.”

“Oh he did,” laughed Toad. “At one point he tried to identify moss.”

“It was educational,” muttered Ratty.

Badger shook his head and poured more tea.

“To be honest,” he said kindly, “there’s no way you were going to catch fish waving that bamboo stick about like a marching flagpole.”

Ratty sank lower into his chair.

Toad suddenly jumped to his feet.

“Well,” he announced dramatically, “I’m going out in the rain again in my motor-car. Goodbye!”

Badger looked horrified.

“You’re leaving already? You’re not staying for a drink?”

“No!” said Toad proudly. “Adventure waits for no amphibian!”

Ratty waved politely.

“Bye, Toady.”

Badger shook his head slowly as Toad ran outside.

“Be careful!”

A few seconds later there was an enormous crashing noise followed by a distant yell of—

“I’M ALRIGHT!”

Badger closed his eyes.

“He’s hit the wheelbarrow again,” he sighed.

Ratty sipped his tea quietly.

“At least,” he said thoughtfully, “he didn’t drive into the river this time.”

From somewhere outside came another loud crash.

Badger looked toward the ceiling.

“I may have spoken too soon,” said Ratty.