Chairlie and the chocolate works

‘Braw stuff, that sookable wawpaper!’ cried Mr Wonka, nashin by. ‘It has
picturs o fruits on it – bananaes, aipples, oaranges, grapes, pineaipples,
strawberries, and skooshberries . . . ’

‘Skooshberries?’ said Mike Teeveeheid.
‘Dinnae interrupt!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘The wawpaper has picturs o aw thae
fruits prentit on it, and when ye sook the pictur o the bananae, it tastes o
bananae. When ye sook a strawberry, it tastes o strawberry. And when ye
sook a skooshberry, it tastes jist exactly like a skooshberry . . . ’
‘But whit does a skooshberry taste like?’
‘Ye’re mummlin again,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Speak looder nixt time. On we
gang! Hurry up!’
HOAT ICE CREAMS FOR CAULD DAYS, it said on the nixt door.
‘Awfie handy in the winter,’ said Mr Wonka, nashin on. ‘Hoat ice cream
warms ye up nae end in jeel-cauld weather. I mak hoat ice cubes and aw for
pittin in hoat drinks. Hoat ice cubes mak hoat drinks hoatter.’
COOS THAT GIE YE CHOCOLATE MILK, it said on the nixt door.
‘Och, ma bonnie wee coos!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘I jist love thae kye!’
‘But why can we no see them?’ spiered Veruca Saut. ‘Why dae we hae tae
gang wheechin past aw these braw rooms?’
‘We’ll stap jist in time!’ cawed oot Mr Wonka. ‘Dinnae be sae glaikitly
impatient!’
UPLIFTIN FIZZY JUICE, it said on the nixt door.
‘Och, yon is mervellous!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘It fills ye fu o bubbles, and the
bubbles are fu o a special kind o gas, and this gas is sae awfie upliftin it lifts
ye richt aff the groond jist like a balloon, and up ye gang until yer heid hits
the ceilin – and ye stey there.’
‘But hoo dae ye get doon again?’ spiered wee Chairlie.
‘Ye dae a burp,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Ye dae a muckle big lang burp, and up
cams the gas and doon ye cam again! But dinnae drink it ootside! There’s nae
wey tae ken hoo high up ye’d be cairried if ye did that. I gied some tae an
auld Heedrum-Hodrum wance oot in the back gairden and he gaed up and up
and disappeart oot o sicht! It wis awfie sad! I’ve no seen him again.’
‘He should hae burped,’ said Chairlie.
‘Coorse he should hae burped,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘I stood there shoutin on
him, “Burp, ya eejit, burp or ye’ll never come doon!” But he didnae or
couldnae or widnae, I dinnae ken which. Mibbe he wis ower poleet. He must
be awa up on the mune by noo.’

On the nixt door, it said, SQUARE SWEETIES THAT LOOK ROOND.
‘Haud on!’ cried Mr Wonka, skittered tae a sudden stap. ‘I am verra prood
o ma square sweeties that look roond. Let’s hae a keek.’

23

Square Sweeties That Look Roond

Awbody stapped and croodit roond the door. The tap hauf o the door wis
made o gless. Granda Jock liftit Chairlie up sae that he could get a better
view, and keekin in, Chairlie saw a lang table, and on the table there were
raws and raws o wee white square-shaped sweeties. The sweeties looked jist
like square sugar lumps – apairt fae the funny wee pink fizzog ilk ane o them
had pentit on wan side. At the end o the table, a nummer o Heedrum-
Hodrums were thrang pentin mair fizzogs on mair sweeties.

‘There ye are!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘Square sweeties that look roond!’
‘They dinnae look roond tae me,’ said Mike Teeveeheid.
‘They aw look square,’ said Veruca Saut. ‘They jist look completely
square.’
‘But they are aw square,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘I never said they werenae.’
‘You said they were roond!’ said Veruca Saut.
‘I never said onythin o the sort,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘I said they looked roond.’
‘But they dinnae look roond!’ said Veruca Saut. ‘They aw look square.’
‘They look roond,’ insistit Mr Wonka.
‘They maist certainly dinnae look roond!’ cried Veruca Saut.
‘Veruca, darlin,’ said Mrs Saut, ‘pey nae attention tae Mr Wonka! He’s
leein tae ye!’
‘Ma dear auld fish,’ said Mr Wonka, ‘awa and bile yer heid!’
‘Hoo daur ye talk tae me like that!’ shouted Mrs Saut.
‘Och, shut yer geggie,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Noo watch this!’
He taen a key fae his pooch, and unlockit the door, and flung it open . . .
and suddently . . . at the soond o the door openin, aw the raws o wee square
sweeties looked quickly roond tae see wha wis comin in. Their tottie fizzogs
actually turnt towards the door and gawped at Mr Wonka.

‘There ye are!’ he cried triumphantly. ‘They’re lookin roond! There’s nae
argument aboot it! They are square sweeties that look roond!’

‘By jings, he’s richt!’ said Granda Jock.
‘C’moan!’ said Mr Wonka, stertin aff doon the loabby again. ‘On we gang!
Nae time tae footer aboot!’
BUTTERSCOTCH AND BUTTERGIN, it said on the nixt door they
passed.
‘Noo that soonds mair like it,’ said Mr Saut, Veruca’s faither.
‘Guid strang stuff!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘The Heedrum-Hodrum’s aw love it. It
gets them blootered. Listen! Ye can hear them in there the noo, happy at their
wark.’
Hoots o lauchter and swatches o singin could be heard comin fae ahint the
steekit door.
‘They’re fu as puggies,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘They’re drinkin butterscotch and
soda. They like that best o aw. Buttergin and ginger is gey popular and aw.
Follae me, please! We really cannae keep stappin like this.’ He turnt left. He
turnt richt. They cam tae a lang flicht o stairs. Mr Wonka skited doon the
bannisters. The three bairns did it and aw. Mrs Saut and Mrs Teeveeheid, the
ainly wimmin noo left in the pairty, were oot o braith gettin. Mrs Saut wis a
muckle fat craitur wi short shanks, and she wis pechin like a rhino-cerous.
‘This wey!’ cried Mr Wonka, turnin left at the fit o the stairs.

‘Slaw doon!’ peuchled Mrs Saut.
‘Cannae dae it,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘We’ll never get there in time if I dae.’
‘Get whaur?’ spiered Veruca Saut.
‘Dinna you worry aboot that,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘You jist wait and see.’

24

Veruca in the Nut Chaumer

Mr Wonka rushed on doon the loabby. THE NUT CHAUMER, it said on the
nixt door they cam tae.

‘Awricht,’ said Mr Wonka, ‘stap here for a meenit and catch yer braith, and
tak a keek through the gless panel o this door. But dinnae gang in! Whitever
ye dae, dinnae gang intae THE NUT CHAUMER! If ye dae, ye’ll fleg the
squirrels!’

Awbody croodit roond the door.
‘Och look, Granda, look!’ cried Chairlie.
‘Squirrels!’ shouted Veruca Saut.
‘Ya boay!’ said Mike Teeveeheid.
It wis an unco sicht. A hunner squirrels were seatit on high stools aroond a
muckle table. On the table, there were moonds and moonds o walnuts, and the
squirrels were aw warkin awa like daft, hoolin the walnuts at a haliket speed.
‘Thir squirrels are specially trained for gettin the nuts oot o walnuts,’ Mr
Wonka explained.
‘Why dae ye use squirrels?’ Mike Teeveeheid spiered. ‘Why no use the
Heedrum-Hodrums?’
‘Because,’ said Mr Wonka, ‘Heedrum-Hodrums cannae get walnuts oot o
walnut shells in wan piece. They ayewis brak them in twa. Naebody apairt fae
squirrels can get haill walnuts oot o walnut shells ilka time. Sae I huv tae hae
squirrels tae dae the joab. Are they no jist wunnerfu, the wey they get thae
nuts oot! And see hoo they first chap the walnut wi their knuckles tae see if
it’s a bad yin! If it’s bad, it maks a hollow soond, and they dinnae bother
openin it. They jist fling it doon the rubbish chute. There! Look! Watch that
squirrel nearest tae us! I doot he’s got a bad yin noo!’
They watched the wee squirrel as he chapped the walnut shell wi his

knuckles. He cockit his heid tae wan side, listenin awfie keenly, then
suddently he flung the nut ower his shooder intae a muckle hole in the flair.

‘Haw, Maw!’ shouted Veruca Saut suddently, ‘I’ve decidit I want a squirrel! I
want a squirrel! Get me wan o thae squirrels!’

‘Dinnae be impoleet noo, sweethert,’ said Mrs Saut. ‘Aw o them belang tae
Mr Wonka.’

‘I couldnae gie twa hoots aboot that!’ shouted Veruca. ‘I want yin. Aw I’ve
got at hame is twa dugs and fower bawdrins and six mappies and twa
parakeets and three linties and a green papingo and a turtle and a bool o
gowdfish and a cage o white mice and a glaikit auld hamster! I want a
squirrel!’

‘Awricht, ma darlin,’ Mrs Saut said saftly. ‘Mither will get ye a squirrel jist
as soon as she possibly can!’

‘But I dinnae want ony auld squirrel!’ Veruca shouted. ‘I want ane that can
dae tricks!’

Jist then, Mr Saut, Veruca’s faither, stepped forrit. ‘Weel then, Wonka,’ he
said awfie importantly, takkin oot a wallet fu o money, ‘hoo muckle dae ye
want for wan o thae squirrels? Jist name yer price.’

‘They’re no for sale,’ Mr Wonka spiered. ‘She cannae get wan.’
‘Wha says I cannae get wan!’ shouted Veruca. ‘I’m gaun in tae get yin for
masel richt this verra meenit.’

‘Dinnae!’ said Mr Wonka quickly, but it wis ower late. The lassie had
awready flung open the door and breenged in.

The second she got ben the room, wan hunner squirrels stapped whit they
were daein and turnt their heids and glowered at her wi wee bleck beady een.

Veruca Saut stapped and aw, and glowered back at them. Then her ain wee
beady een picked oot a bonnie wee squirrel sittin nearest tae her at the end o
the table. The squirrel wis haudin a walnut in its crogs.

‘Awricht, wee yin,’ Veruca said, ‘I’ll hae you!’
She raxed oot her hauns tae grup the squirrel . . . but as she did sae . . . in
that first spleet second when her hauns sterted tae gang forrit, there wis a
sudden flichter o movement in the room, like a flash o broon lichtnin, and ilka
singil squirrel aroond the table taen a fleein lowp at her and landit on her
boady.
Twinty-five o them got a haud o her richt airm, and peened it doon.
Twinty-five mair got a haud o her left airm, and peened that doon.
Twinty-five got a haud o her richt shank and anchored it tae the groond.
Twinty-fower got a haud o her left shank.
And the ane remainin squirrel (obviously the heidbummer squirrel)
sclimmed up ontae her shooder and sterted chap-chap-chappin on the puir
lassie’s heid wi its knuckles.
‘Save her!’ skraiched Mrs Saut. ‘Veruca! Cam back! Whit are they daein
tae her?’
‘They’re testin her tae see if she’s a bad nut or no,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Jist
watch.’
Veruca strauchled furiously, but the squirrels held her ticht and she
couldnae move. The squirrel on her shooder keepit on chap-chap-chappin on
the side o her heid wi his knuckles.
Then aw at wance, the squirrels poued Veruca tae the groond and sterted
cairryin her across the flair.
‘Hoots-toots, she is a bad nut efter aw,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Her heid must hae
soondit gey hollow.’
Veruca kickit and skraiched, but it wis nae use. The tottie strang paws helt
her ticht and she couldnae win awa.
‘Whaur are they takkin her?’ skraiched Mrs Saut.
‘She’s gaun whaur aw the ither bad nuts go,’ said Mr Wullie Wonka. ‘Doon
the rubbish chute.’
‘By jings, they’re pittin her doon the chute!’ Mr Saut said, gawpin through

the gless door at his dochter.
‘Then dae somethin! Save her!’ cried Mrs Saut.
‘Och, naw, we cannae,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘We’re ower late. She’s awa!’
And indeed she wis.
‘But whaur?’ skraiched Mrs Saut, flappin her airms. ‘Whit happens tae the

bad nuts? Whaur does the chute come oot?’
‘That parteeclar chute,’ Mr Wonka telt her, ‘rins strecht intae the muckle

big main rubbish pipe that cairries aw the rubbish awa fae ilka pairt o the
factory – aw the flair sweepins and tattie peelins and foostie cabbages and fish
heids and honkin stuff like that.’

‘Wha eats fish and cabbage and tatties in this factory? That’s whit I’d like
tae ken!’ said Mike Teeveeheid.

‘I dae, o coorse,’ answered Mr Wonka. ‘Ye dinnae think I jist live on cacao
beans, dae ye?’

‘But . . . but . . . but . . . ’ skraiched Mrs Saut, ‘whaur does this muckle big
pipe gang tae in the end?’

‘Weel, it gangs tae the furnace, o coorse,’ Mr Wonka said calmly. ‘Tae the
incinerator.’

Mrs Saut opened her muckle reid mooth and sterted tae scream.
‘Dinnae worry,’ said Mr Wonka, ‘there’s ayewis a chaunce that they’ve
decidit no tae licht it the day.’
‘A chaunce!’ yowled Mrs Saut. ‘Ma darlin Veruca! She’ll . . . she’ll . . .
she’ll be biled like a tattie!’

‘Ye’re richt, ma dear,’ said Mr Saut. ‘Noo listen tae me, Wonka,’ he addit, ‘I
think ye’ve taen it ower faur this time. Ma dochter micht be a bawheid – I
dinnae mind admittin that – but that doesnae mean you can roast her like a
herrin. I’m tellin ye richt noo I’m extremely bealin aboot aw this, I really am.’

‘Och, dinnae be bealin, ma dear sir!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Nae doot she’ll turn
up again sooner or later. She mibbe didnae even go doon at aw. She’s mibbe
stuck in the chute jist ablow the entrance hole, and if yon’s the wey o it, aw ye
hae tae dae is gang in there and pou her oot.’

Hearin this, baith Mr and Mrs Saut breenged intae the Nut Chaumer and
ran ower tae the hole in the flair and keeked in.

‘Veruca!’ shouted Mrs Saut. ‘Are ye doon there?’

There wis nae answer.
Mrs Saut bent further forrit tae get a closer look. She wis noo kneelin richt
on the edge o the hole wi her heid doon and her muckle bahookie stickin up in
the air like a giant mushroom. It wis a wanchancy thing tae dae. She ainly
needit jist wan tottie wee push . . . wan gentle dunt in the richt place . . . and
yon is exactly whit the squirrels gied her! Ower she cowped, intae the hole
heid first, skraichin like a papingo.
‘Jings!’ said Mr Saut, as he watched his fattygus wife gang tummlin doon
the hole, ‘there’s no hauf some rubbish gaun doon there the day!’ He saw her
disappearin intae the daurkness. ‘Whit’s it like doon there, Angina?’ he cawed
oot. He leaned further forrit.

The squirrels cam chairgin up ahint him . . .
‘Help!’ he yowled.
But he wis awready gaun in and fawin doon the chute, jist as his wife had

done afore him – and his crabbit dochter.
‘Och naw!’ cried Chairlie, wha wis watchin wi the ithers through the open

door, ‘whit on earth’s gonnae happen tae them noo?’
‘Nae doot somebody will catch them at the bottom o the chute,’ said Mr

Wonka.
‘But whit aboot the muckle big fiery incinerator?’ spiered Chairlie.
‘They ainly licht it ilka ither day,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Mibbe this is wan o the

days when they let it go oot. Ye never ken . . . they micht be lucky . . . ’
‘Wheesht!’ said Granda Jock. ‘Listen! Here cams anither sang!’
Fae faur awa doon the loabby cam the dirlin o drums. Then the singin

sterted.

‘Heedrum-Hodrum, och aye the noo!
We’ve got a wee bit sang noo for you!
Veruca Saut, a daft wee troot,
Is skitin doon the midden chute
(It’s no jist her that has tae faw
She’s fawin wi her maw and paw
It wisnae aw her faut, we feel,
Sae we flung in her folks as weel.)
Doon gangs Veruca! Doon the sheuch!
It’s no fair but it’s fair eneuch
That she will meet, as she gangs doon,
Nae man nor wife nor quine nor loon -
Nae jokes or joy or sonsie singin
But aw things daurk and aw things mingin.
A fish heid, mibbe, that’s been cut
Aff the back end o a halibut.
“Hiya! Guid mornin! Fit like, quine?
I hope ye’re daein affa fine!”
But then a wee bit further doon
Soon ither things will gaither roon;
Auncient tatties, a foostie scone,
Some breid ye’d brak yer teeth upon,
A steak the Deil’s sel couldnae chew,
An oxter fae an oxter stew,
Some pottit hoch, uncooked, unbraw,

It honks fae hauf a mile awa,
A rotten nit, a bowfin pear,
Some cauld chips picked up aff the flair,
And ither things wid mak ye seik,
Complete wi boggin bowfin reek.
This is whit young Miss Saut noo sees
As doon insteid o up she flees
This is the price she has tae pey
For gaun sae awfie faur agley.
But noo, neebors, we doot ye micht
Be wunnerin - is it really richt
That ilka singil bit o blame
And aw the flytin and the shame
Should faw upon Veruca Saut?
Is she the ainly yin at faut?
Although she’s spiled, it’s plain tae tell,
A lassie cannae spile hersel.
Wha made her sic a rude wee bairn,
Never heedin and never carin?
Wha wi her wis sae besotten
They pure spiled this lassie rotten?
Jings, ye dinnae need tae look ower far
Tae find oot wha these dumplins are.
It wis as faur’s we can gaither
Her ain MITHER and her FAITHER.
And that is hoo they had tae faw
Intae the midden chute and aw.’

25

The Muckle Gless Lift

‘I’ve never seen onythin like it!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘These weans are
disappearin like rabbits! But dinnae worry aboot it! They’ll aw come oot in
the waash!’

Mr Wonka looked at the wee group that stood aside him in the loabby.
There were ainly twa bairns left noo – Mike Teeveeheid and Chairlie Baffie.
And there were jist three grown-ups, Mr and Mrs Teeveeheid and Granda
Jock. ‘Ready tae cairry on?’ Mr Wonka spiered.

‘Oh aye!’ cried Chairlie and Granda Jock, baith thegither.
‘Ma feet are sair fae aw this walkin,’ said Mike Teeveeheid. ‘I want tae
watch television.’
‘Weel, if ye’re wabbit, we’d better tak the lift,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘It’s ower
here. C’moan! In we gang!’ He jinkit across the passage tae a pair o double
doors. The doors sliddered open. The twa bairns and the grown-ups gaed in.
‘Noo then,’ cried Mr Wonka, ‘which button dae ye want tae push first? Tak
yer pick!’
Chairlie Baffie gawped aroond him in bumbazement. This wis the radgest
lift he had ever seen. There were buttons aw weys! The waws, and even the
ceilin, were covered wi raws and raws and raws o wee, bleck buttons! There
must hae been aboot a thoosand o them on ilka waw, and anither thoosand on
the ceilin! And noo Chairlie noticed that ilka singil button had a tottie wee
prentit label aside it tellin ye which room ye wid be taen tae if ye pressed it.
‘This isnae jist an ordinar up-and-doon lift!’ annoonced Mr Wonka proodly.
‘This lift can gang sideyweys and alangtheweys and sklentyweys and ony
ither weys ye can think o! It can veesit ony room in the haill factory, nae
maitter whaur it is! Ye jist push the button . . . and whooch! . . . ye’re aff!’
‘Braw!’ murmured Granda Jock. His een were sheenin wi excitement as he

gawped at the raws o buttons.
‘The haill lift is made o thick clear gless!’ Mr Wonka declared. ‘Waws,

doors, ceilin, flair, awthin is made o gless sae ye can see oot!’
‘But there’s naethin tae see,’ said Mike Teeveeheid.
‘Gaun, choose a button!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘The twa bairns can push wan

button each. Sae tak yer pick! C’moan! In ilka room, somethin delicious and
wunnerfu is bein made richt noo.’

Quickly, Chairlie sterted readin some o the labels alangside the buttons.
THE ROCK-CANDY MINE – 10,000 FIT DEEP, it said on wan.
COCKERNUT-ICE SKATIN RINKS, it said on anither.
Then . . .STRAWBERRY-JUICE WATTER PISTOLS.
TOFFEE AIPPLE TREES FOR PLANTIN OOT IN YER GAIRDEN –
AW SIZES.
EXPLODIN SWEETIES FOR YER ENEMIES.
LUMINOUS LOLLIES FOR EATIN IN YER BED AT NICHT.
MINT JUJUBES FOR THE LADDIE NIXT DOOR – THEY’LL GIE HIM
GREEN WALLIES FOR A HAILL MONTH.
CAVITY-FILLIN CARAMELS – NAE MAIR DENTISTS.
WHEESHTIEGUM FOR BLETHERIN PARENTS.
KITTLE-SWEETIES THAT KITTLE YE IN YER BELLY EFTER YE
SWALLAE THEM.
INVISIBLE CHOCOLATE BARS FOR SCRANNIN IN CLESS.
SUGAR-COATIT PINCILS FOR SOOKIN.
SWEEMIN POOLS FILLED WI GINGER.
MAGIC HAUN-FUDGE – WHEN YE HAUD IT IN YER HAUN, YE
TASTE IT IN YER MOOTH.
RAINBOW DRAPS – SOOK THEM AND YE CAN WECHLE IN SAX
DIFFERENT COLOURS.
‘C’moan, c’moan!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘We cannae hing aboot here aw day!’
‘Is there no a Television Chaumer in aw o this lot?’ spiered Mike
Teeveeheid.
‘Certainly there is a television chaumer,’ Mr Wonka said. ‘That button ower
there.’ He pointit wi his fingir. Awbody looked. TELEVISION
CHOCOLATE, it said on the tottie label aside the button.
‘Ya beauty!’ shouted Mike Teeveeheid. ‘That’s the gemme!’ He stuck oot
his thoom and pressed the button. Strecht awa, there wis an awfie lood
wheechin soond. The doors clattered shut and the lift skelpit awa as though it

had been stung by a bumbee. But it skelpit sideyweys! And aw the passengers
(apairt fae Mr Wonka, wha wis haudin on tae a strap hingin doon fae the
ceilin) were cowped aff their feet and fell on tae the flair.

‘Git up, git up!’ cried Mr Wonka, hootin wi lauchter. But jist as they were
stacherin tae their feet, the lift chynged direction and jouked violently roond a
corner. And they fell doon on the flair again.

‘Help!’ shouted Mrs Teeveeheid.
‘Tak ma haun, madam,’ said Mr Wonka gallantly. ‘There ye are! Noo tak a
haud o this strap! Awbody hing ontae a strap. The journey’s no ower yet!’
Auld Granda Jock stachered tae his feet and caucht a haud o a strap. Wee

Chairlie, wha couldnae possibly rax as high as that, put his airms aroond
Granda Jock’s shanks and hung on ticht.

The lift wheeched on at the speed o a rocket. Noo it wis stertin tae sclim. It
wis birlin up and up and up on a stey sklenty coorse as if it were sclimmin up
an awfie stey brae. Then suddently, as though it had cam tae the tap o the brae
and gane ower a jaggit cleuch, it drapped like a stane and Chairlie felt his hert
lowp up intae his mooth, and Granda Jock shouted, ‘Magic! Here we go!’ and
Mrs Teeveeheid cried oot, ‘The rope’s snappit in twa! We’re gonnae crash!’
And Mr Wonka said, ‘Dinnae fash. There’ll be nae crash, ma dear wummin,’
and clapped her on the heid tae calm her doon. And then Granda Jock looked
doon at Chairlie wha wis hingin in tae his shanks, and he said, ‘Are ye
awricht, Chairlie?’ Chairlie shouted, ‘I love it. It’s jist like bein on a roller
coaster!’ And through the gless waws o the lift, as it wheeched alang, they
caucht sudden glisks o unco and wunnerfu things gaun on in some o the ither
rooms:

A undeemous spoot wi broon sticky goor dreeblin oot o it on the flair . . .
A muckle, jaggy moontain made entirely oot o fudge, wi Heedrum-
Hodrums (aw roped thegither for safety) chappin huge dauds o fudge oot o its
sides . . .
A machine wi white pooder sprayin oot o it like a snawstorm . . .
A loch o hoat caramel wi steam comin aff it . . .
A wee Heedrum-Hodrum toun, wi tottie hooses and streets and hunners o
Heedrum-Hodrum bairnies nae mair than fower inches tall playin in the
streets . . .
And noo the lift sterted strechtenin oot again, but it seemed tae be gaun
faster than ever, and Chairlie could hear the skirl o the wund ootside as it
hurtled forrit . . . and it twistit . . . and it turnt . . . and up it gaed . . . and doon
it gaed . . . and . . .
‘I’m gonnae boak!’ yowled Mrs Teeveeheid, her fizzog turnin green.
‘Please dinnae boak in ma lift,’ said Mr Wonka.
‘Try and stap me!’ said Mrs Teeveeheid.
‘Then ye’d better tak this,’ said Mr Wonka, and he taen the fantoosh lum
hat aff his heid, and held it oot, upside doon, in front o Mrs Teeveeheid’s
mooth.
‘Mak this awfie thing stap!’ ordered Mr Teeveeheid.
‘Cannae dae it,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘It’ll no stap until we get there. I jist hope
naebody’s usin the ither lift the noo.’

‘Whit ither lift?’ skraiched Mrs Teeveeheid.
‘The yin that gangs the opposite wey on the same track as this yin,’ said Mr
Wonka.
‘Haly hoolets!’ cried Mr Teeveeheid. ‘Ye mean we micht hae a collision?’
‘I’ve aye been lucky sae faur,’ said Mr Wonka.
‘Noo I am gonnae be seik!’ yowled Mrs Teeveeheid.
‘Naw, naw!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘No noo! We’re nearly there! Dinnae boak in
ma bunnet!’
The nixt meenit, there wis a skraichin o brakes, and the lift sterted tae slaw
doon. Then it stapped awthegither.
‘Whit a ride!’ said Mr Teeveeheid, dichtin his muckle sweaty fizzog wi a
hanky.
‘Never again!’ peched Mrs Teeveeheid. And then the doors o the lift
sliddered open and Mr Wonka said, ‘Jist a meenit noo! Listen tae me! I want
awbody tae caw awfie canny in this room. There is wanchancy stuff in here
and ye mauna touch ony o it.’

26

The Television-Chocolate Chaumer

The Teeveeheid faimly, thegither wi Chairlie and Granda Jock, stepped oot o
the lift intae a room sae blinninly bricht and blinninly white that they shut
their een in pain and stapped walkin. Mr Wonka haundit them aw a pair o
daurk glesses and said, ‘Pit these on quick! And dinnae tak them aff whitever
ye dae! This licht could blinn ye!’

As soon as Chairlie had his daurk glesses on, he wis able tae look aroond
him. He saw a lang nairra room. The room wis pentit white aw ower. Even the
flair wis white, and there wisnae a speck o stoor onywhaur. Fae the ceilin,
muckle lamps hung doon and bathed the room in a bleezin blue-white licht.
The room wis completely toom forby the faur ends o it. At ane o thir ends
there wis an undeemous camera on wheels, and a haill airmy o Heedrum-
Hodrums wis croodit roond it, pittin ile in its joints and adjustin its knobs and
polishin its great gless lens. The Heedrum-Hodrums were aw wearin the maist
byordinar claes. They had on bricht-reid space suits, complete wi helmets and
goggles – at least they looked like they micht be space suits – and they were
warkin in total wheesht. Watchin them, Chairlie experienced an unco sense o
danger. There wis somethin gey wanchancy aboot this haill business, and the
Heedrum-Hodrums kent it. There wis nae bletherin or singin amang them
here, and they flitted aboot ower the muckle bleck camera gey slaw and awfie
carefu in their cramassie-coloured space suits.

At the ither end o the room, aboot fifty paces awa fae the camera, ae singil
Heedrum-Hodrum (wearin a space suit and aw) wis sittin at a bleck table
glowerin at the screen o a gey muckle television set.

‘Here we gang!’ cried Mr Wonka, fidgin wi excitement. ‘This is the Testin
Chaumer for ma verra latest and greatest invention – Television Chocolate!’

‘But whit is Television Chocolate?’ spiered Mike Teeveeheid.

‘Will you stap interruptin me, bairn?’ said Mr Wonka. ‘It warks by
television. I dinnae like television masel. Nae doot it’s awricht in sma doses,
but weans never seem tae be happy wi sma doses. They want tae sit there aw
day lang gowpin and glowerin at the screen . . . ’

‘That’s whit I dae!’ said Mike Teeveeheid.
‘Haud yer wheesht!’ said Mr Teeveeheid.
‘Thank you,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘I will noo tell ye hoo this mervellous
machine o mines warks. But first o aw, dae ye ken hoo normal television
warks? It’s gey simple. At wan end, whaur the pictur is bein taen, ye hae a
muckle ciné camera and ye stert photographin somethin. The photographs are
then spleet up intae millions o tottie wee pieces that are sae wee ye cannae see
them, and thir wee pieces are shot oot intae the sky by electricity. In the sky,
they gang wheechin aroond aw ower the place until suddently they hut the
antenna on the roof o somebody’s hoose. They then go wheechin doon the
wire that leads richt intae the back o the television set, and in there they get
shoogled and joogled aroond until at last ilka singil wan o thae millions o
tottie pieces is fitted back intae its richt place (jist like a jigsaw puzzle), and,
haw ya beauty! – the photograph kythes on the screen . . .’
‘That isnae exactly hoo it warks,’ Mike Teeveeheid said.

‘I am a wee bit deef in ma left lug,’ Mr Wonka said. ‘Ye hae tae forgie me if I
dinnae hear a word you say.’

‘I said, that isnae exactly hoo it warks!’ shouted Mike Teeveeheid.
‘Ye’re a guid laddie,’ Mr Wonka said, ‘but ye’re an awfie blether. Noo
then! The verra first time I saw normal television warkin, I had a mervellous
idea. “Look here!” I shouted. “If thae folk can brak up a photograph intae
millions o pieces and send thae pieces wheechin through the air and then pit

them thegither at the ither end, why can I no dae the same thing but wi a bar o
chocolate? Why can I no send a real bar o chocolate wheechin through the air
in tottie pieces and then pit aw thae pieces thegither at the ither end, awready
tae get scranned?”

‘It cannae be done!’ said Mike Teeveeheid.
‘Ye think sae?’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘Weel, watch this! I will noo send a bar o
ma verra best chocolate fae yin end o this room tae the ither – by television!
Yous aw redd up ower there? Bring in the chocolate!’
Immediately, sax Heedrum-Hodrums mairched forrit cairryin on their
shooders the maist muckle bar o chocolate Chairlie had ever seen. It wis
aboot the size o the mattress he sleepit on at hame.
‘It has tae be muckle,’ Mr Wonka explained, ‘because whenever ye send
somethin by television, it ayewis cams oot wee-er than it wis when it gaed in.
Even wi normal television, when ye tak a photie o a muckle mannie, he never
cams oot on yer screen ony taller than a pincil, am I richt? Here we gang then!
Git ready! Naw, naw! Stap! Haud awthin! Haw, you there! Mike Teeveeheid!
Get oot the road! Staund back! Ye’re ower close tae the camera! There are
dangerous rays comin oot o that thing! They could brak ye up intae a million
tottie wee pieces in wan second! Yon’s why the Heedrum-Hodrums are aw
wearin space suits! The suits bield them fae the rays! Awricht! That’s better!
Noo, then! Switch it oan!’
Ane o the Heedrum-Hodrums taen a grup o a muckle switch and poued it
doon.
There wis a super-bricht bleeze.
‘The chocolate’s awa!’ shouted Granda Jock, wavin his airms.
He wis richt! The haill muckle bar o chocolate had disappeart awthegither
intae thin air!
‘It’s on its wey!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘It’s noo wheechin through the air abune
oor heids in a million tottie bitties. Quick! Cam ower here!’ He jinked ower
tae the ither end o the room whaur the muckle televison set wis staundin, and
the ithers follaed him. ‘Keep yer een on the screen!’ he cried. ‘Here it cams!
Look!’
The screen flichtered and lichtit up. Then suddently a sma bar o chocolate
appeart in the middle o the screen.
‘Tak it!’ shouted Mr Wonka, growin mair and mair excitit.
‘Hoo can onybody tak it?’ spiered Mike Teeveeheid, lauchin. ‘It’s jist a
pictur on a television screen!’

‘Chairlie Baffie!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘You tak it! Pit oot yer haun and get a
haud o it!’

Chairlie raxed oot his haun and touched the screen, and suddently,
miraculously, the bar o chocolate cam awa in his fingirs. He wis sae surprised
he nearly drapped it.

‘Eat it!’ shouted Mr Wonka. ‘Gaun, eat it! It’ll be braw! It’s the same bar!
It’s jist got wee-er on the journey, that’s aw!’

‘It’s pure magic!’ peched Granda Jock. ‘It’s . . . it’s . . . it’s a miracle!’
‘Jist imagine,’ cried Mr Wonka, ‘when I stert usin this across the country . .
. ye’ll be sittin in yer hoose watchin television and suddently a commercial
will flash on tae the screen and a voice will say, “EAT WONKA’S
CHOCOLATES! THEY’RE THE BEST IN THE HAILL WARLD! IF YE
DINNAE BELIEVE US, WHY NO TRY WAN YERSEL – NOO!” And ye
jist rax oot and tak yin! Whit dae ye think o that, eh?’
‘Mervellous!’ cried Granda Jock. ‘It will chynge the warld!’

27

Mike Teeveeheid is Sent by
Television

Mike Teeveeheid wis even mair excitit than Granda Jock at seein a bar o
chocolate get sent by television. ‘But Mr Wonka,’ he shouted, ‘can ye send
ither things through the air in the same wey? Breakfast cereal, for instance?’

‘Och, gie’s peace, will ye!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘Dinnae mention that honkin
stuff in front o me! Dae ye ken whit breakfast cereal is made o? Stoor, that’s
whit! And aw thae curly wee widden shavins ye get fae shairpenin yer pincil!’

‘But could ye send it by television if ye wantit tae, like ye did wi the
chocolate?’ spiered Mike Teeveeheid.

‘Coorse I could!’
‘And whit aboot people?’ spiered Mike Teeveeheid. ‘Could ye send a real
live person fae wan place tae anither in the same wey?’
‘A person!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘Are you aff yer heid, son?’
‘But could ye dae it?’
‘Guid sakes, boay, I really dinnae ken . . . it micht I suppose . . . it mibbe
could . . . I widnae like tae tak the risk, though . . . it micht hae some gey
ugsome results . . . ’
But Mike Teeveeheid wis awready aff and rinnin. The second he heard Mr
Wonka sayin “micht” and “could”, he turnt on his heels and sterted rinnin as
fast as he could towards the ither end o the room whaur the muckle camera
wis staundin. ‘Look at me awbody!’ he shouted as he ran. ‘I’m gonnae be the
first person in the warld tae be sent by television!’
‘Naw, naw, naw, naw!’ cried Mr Wonka.
‘Mike!’ skraiched Mrs Teeveeheid. ‘Stap. Cam back! Ye’ll be turnt intae a
million tottie wee bitties!’
But there wis nae stappin Mike Teeveeheid noo. The radge lad jist cairried

on, and when he raxed the muckle camera, he lowpit strecht for the switch,
skailin Heedrum-Hodrums richt and left as he gaed.

‘See ye efter!’ he shouted, and he poued the switch doon, and as he did sae,
he lowpit oot intae the fu glower o the michty lens.

There wis a super-bricht bleeze.
Then there wis total wheesht.
Mrs Teeveeheid ran forrit . . . and stapped deid in the middle o the room . . .
she jist stood there gawpin at the place whaur her son had been . . . and her
muckle reid mooth opened wide and she skraiched, ‘He’s awa! He’s awa!’
‘Jings, he is awa!’ shouted Mr Teeveeheid.
Mr Wonka hurried forrit and placed a haun gently on Mrs Teeveeheid’s
shooder. ‘We’ll jist hae tae hope for the best,’ he said. ‘We huv tae pray that
yer wee laddie will come oot unhermed at the ither end.’
‘Mike!’ skraiched Mrs Teeveeheid, pittin her heid in her hauns. ‘Whaur are
ye?’

‘I’ll tell ye whaur he is,’ said Mr Teeveeheid, ‘he’s wheechin aroond abune
oor heids in a million tottie wee bitties!’

‘I dinnae want tae talk aboot it!’ sabbed Mrs Teeveeheid.
‘We’ll hae tae watch television noo,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘He could be comin
through at ony meenit.’
Mr and Mrs Teeveeheid and Granda Jock and wee Chairlie and Mr Wonka
aw gaithered roond the television and glowered at the screen. The screen wis
blank.
‘He’s takkin an awfie lang time tae come across,’ said Mr Teeveeheid,
dichtin his broo.
‘Michty,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘I hope he cams oot in wan piece.’
‘Whit dae ye mean?’ spiered Mr Teeveeheid shairply.
‘I dinnae want tae fleg ye ony mair than ye awready are,’ said Mr Wonka,
‘but it whiles happens that ainly hauf the wee bitties find their wey intae the
television set. It happened jist last week. I dinnae ken why, but the result wis
that ainly hauf a bar o chocolate cam through.’
Mrs Teeveeheid let oot a skraich o horror. ‘Ye mean we micht jist get hauf
o him back?’ she cried.
‘Let’s hope it’s the tap hauf,’ said Mr Teeveeheid.
‘Haud awthin!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Watch the screen! Somethin’s happenin!’
The screen had suddently sterted tae flichter.
Then a wheen wavy lines appeart.
Mr Wonka adjustit wan o the knobs and the wavy lines gaed awa.
And noo, gey slawly, the screen sterted tae get brichter and brichter.
‘Here he cams!’ yowled Mr Wonka. ‘Aye, that’s him awricht!’
‘Is he in wan piece?’ cried Mrs Teeveeheid.
‘I’m no sure,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘It’s ower early tae say.’
Shooglie at first but clearer and clearer gettin ilka second, the pictur o Mike
Teeveeheid appeart on the screen. He wis staundin up and wavin at the
audience and grinnin fae lug tae lug.
‘But he’s tottie!’ shouted Mr Teeveeheid.
‘Mike,’ cried Mr Teeveeheid, ‘are ye awricht? Is there ony bits missin aff
ye?’
‘Will he no get ony bigger?’ shouted Mr Teeveeheid.
‘Talk tae me, Mike!’ cried Mrs Teeveeheid. ‘Say somethin! Tell me ye’re
awricht!’
A peerie wee voice, nae looder than the squeakin o a moose, cam oot o the
television set. ‘Hiya, Maw!’ it said. ‘Hiya, Da! Hoo ye daein? Gonnae look at
me! I’m the first person ever tae be sent by television!’

‘Get a haud o him!’ ordered Mr Wonka. ‘Quick!’
Mrs Teeveeheid shot oot a haun and picked the tottie figure o Mike
Teeveeheid oot o the screen.
‘Weel done!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘He’s in wan piece! He’s completely
unhermed!’
‘Unhermed? Ye caw that unhermed?’ raired Mrs Teeveeheid, keekin at the
wee eemock o a laddie that wis noo rinnin back and forrit across the loof o
her haun, wavin his pistols in the air.
He wis nae mair than an inch lang.
‘He’s skrunkled!’ said Mr Teeveeheid.
‘Coorse he’s skrunkled,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Whit did ye think wis gonnae
happen?’
‘This is awfie!’ gret Mrs Teeveeheid. ‘Whit are we gonnae dae?’
And Mr Teeveeheid said, ‘He cannae gang tae the schuil like this! They’ll
staund on him! They’ll fletten him!’
‘He’ll no be able tae dae onythin!’ cried Mrs Teeveeheid.
‘Aye I will!’ the tottie wee voice o Mike Teeveeheid squeakit. ‘I’ll aye be
able tae watch television!’

‘Naw, ye’ll no!’ shouted Mr Teeveeheid. ‘I’m flingin the television set richt
oot the windae the meenit we get hame. I’ve had it up tae here wi television!’

When he heard this, Mike Teeveeheid wis pure bealin. He sterted lowpin
up and doon on the loof o his mither’s haun, screamin and yowlin and tryin
tae bite her fingirs. ‘I want tae watch television!’ he squeakit. ‘I want tae
watch television! I want tae watch television! I want tae watch television!’

‘Here! Gie him tae me!’ said Mr Teeveeheid, and he taen the peedie boay
and pit him intae the breist poacket o his jaiket and stuffed a hanky on tap on
him. Skraichs and yowls cam fae inside the poacket, and the poacket shak as
the bealin wee prisoner focht tae get oot.

‘Och, Mr Wonka,’ sabbed Mrs Teeveeheid, ‘hoo can we mak him growe?’
‘Weel,’ said Mr Wonka, kittlin his baird and glowerin in deep thocht at the
ceilin, ‘Ken, that’s no easy. But wee laddies are gey booncie and elastic. They
streetch like daft. Sae I ken whit we’ll dae. We’ll pit him in a special machine
I hae here for testin the streetchiness o chawin-gum! Mibbe a bit o raxin will
bring him back tae whit he wis.’

‘Och, thank you!’ said Mrs Teeveeheid.
‘Dinnae mention it, ma dear wummin.’
‘Hoo far dae ye think he’ll streetch?’ spiered Mr Teeveeheid.
‘Mibbe a couple o mile,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Wha kens? But he’s gaun tae be
awfu thin. Awthin gets thinner the langer ye streetch it.’
‘Ye mean like chawin-gum?’ spiered Mr Teeveeheid.
‘That’s richt.’
‘Hoo thin will he be?’ spiered Mrs Teeveeheid aw anxious.
‘I dinnae hae a scoobie,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘And it doesnae really maitter
onywey, because we’ll soon fatten him up again. Aw we hae tae dae is gie
him a triple owerdose o ma wunnerfu Supervitamin Chocolate. Supervitamin
Chocolate conteens muckle amoonts o vitamin A and vitamin B. And forby
it’s got vitamin C, vitamin D, vitamin E, vitamin F, vitamin G, vitamin I,
vitamin J, vitamin K, vitamin L, vitamin M, vitamin N, vitamin O, vitamin P,
vitamin Q, vitamin R, vitamin T, vitamin U, vitamin V, vitamin W, vitamin X,
vitamin Y, and, believe it or no, vitamin Z! The ainly twa vitamins it doesnae
hae in it are vitamin S, because it maks ye seik, and vitamin H, because it
maks ye growe horns on the tap o yer heid, like a buhl. But it does hae in it an
awfie sma amoont o the rarest and maist magical vitamin o them aw – vitamin
Wonka.’
‘And whit will that dae tae him?’ spiered Mr Teeveeheid aw anxious.
‘It’ll mak his taes growe until they’re as lang as his fingirs . . . ’
‘Och, naw!’ cried Mrs Teeveeheid.
‘Dinnae be daft,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘It’s gey usefu. He’ll be able tae play the
piano wi his feet.’
‘But Mr Wonka . . . ’
‘Nae arguments, please!’ said Mr Wonka. He turnt awa and snappit his
fingirs three times in the air. A Heedrum-Hodrum appeart immediately and
stood aside him. ‘Follae thir orders,’ said Mr Wonka, haundin the Heedrum-
Hodrum a daud o paper on which he had scrievit a leet o instructions. ‘And
ye’ll find the laddie in his faither’s poacket. Aff ye gang! Guid-bye, Mr
Teeveeheid! Guid-bye, Mrs Teeveeheid! And please dinnae look sae worried!
They aw come oot in the waash, ye ken; aw o them . . . ’
At the end o the room, the Heedrum-Hodrums staundin aroond the muckle
camera were awready skelpin their tottie drums and stertin tae boonce up and
doon tae the rhythm.

‘That’s them awa again!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘I’m afraid ye jist cannae stap them
singin!’

Wee Chairlie caucht Granda Jock’s haun, and the twa o them stood aside
Mr Wonka in the middle o the lang bricht room, listenin tae the Heedrum-
Hodrums. And this is whit they were chantin:

‘Heedrum-Hodrum, och aye the noo!

We’ve got a wee bit sang noo for you!
The maist important thing we’ve learnt,
Sae faur as bairnies are concernt,
Is dinnae let them watch the telly
For fear their een will go aw skelly!
And for the sake o bairn and wean
Dinnae even go and buy ane!
In awmaist ilka hoose we’ve been,
We’ve seen them glowerin at the screen.
They loonge and sloonge and lee aboot
And glower until their een pop oot.
Wance veesitin some bairnie’s hoose
We saw twa ee-baws on the loose.
They baith cam booncin doon the stair
And chased us roond the kitchen flair.
They sit and gawp and gawp and sit
Until they’re fair cross-eed wi it,
But they jist cannae get enough
O aw that stupit-heidit guff.
Oh aye, we ken it keeps them quiet
Sae they dinnae shout and riot.
Nae jeelie lips and nae bleck ee,
While you slip oot and mak the tea
And waash the dishes in the sink -
But did ye ever stap tae think,
Tae wunner whit is in the brain
O your beloved ain dear wean?
IT ROTS THE SENSES IN THE HEID!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEID!

IT CLAGGERS UP A YOUNG YIN’S POW
SAE THEY CANNAE LEARN OR GROWE!
THEY SOON FORGET TAE LOVE OR FEEL
OR TELL WHIT’S RICHT FAE WHIT IS REAL!
THE POOER TAE BE HIMSEL SOON DEES!
HE CANNAE THINK - HE AINLY SEES!
“Awricht!” ye’ll say. “Awricht! That’s braw.
But if we tak the set awa
Whit will we dae tae entertain
Oor darlin bairnies? Please explain!”
Tae answer this, we will jist say,
“Whit did the wee yins used tae dae?
Hoo did they keep themsels contentit
Afore the box drove them dementit?”
Huv ye forgotten? Dae you no ken?
We’ll say it for ye gey lood then:
THEY USED TAE READ! They’d
READ and READ,
And READ and READ, and then proceed
TAE READ some mair. They’d find a neuk
And sit doon there and read a book.
Books were aw ower the nursery flair!
The nursery shelves had even mair!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
Mair books were waitin tae be read!
Sic wunnerfu and magic tales
O draigons, bogles, queens and whales
And treisure isles, and faur-aff shores

Whaur smugglers rowed wi muffled oars,
And pirates wearin purpie breeks,
A cheeky papingo that speaks,
And cannibals hunkered roond a poat,
Steerin awa at somethin hoat.
(It smells sae braw, whit can it be?
Guid gracious, it’s Penelope.)
The younger yins had Beatrix Potter
Wi Mr Tod, the dirty snotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs Tiggy-Winkle and -
Jist Hoo the Camel Got His Hump,
And Hoo the Puggie Loast His Rump,
And Mr Toad and let’s say howdy
Tae Mr Ratton, Mr Mowdie -
Och, books, och books, they were sae fine
Tae bairns that lived here no lang syne!
Sae please, oh please, be strang, be stoot,
Awa and throw yer telly oot!
And pit up insteid somethin braw,
A bonnie bookshelf on the waw.
Then stap it fu wi lots o books,
Ignorin aw the crabbit looks,
The skraichs and yowls, the bites and kicks,
And bairnies skelpin ye wi sticks -
But in aboot a week or twa,
Because they dinnae hae hee-haw
Tae dae, they’ll feel the need
Tae pick up somethin guid tae read!

And wance they stert - oh ya boay!
Ye’ll watch the slawly growin joy
That fills their herts. They’ll growe sae keen
They’ll wunner why they bleared their een
Watchin that glaikit TV screen!
And efter, ilka singil wean
Will love ye mair for whit ye’ve daen.
And as for Michael Teeveeheid,
Noo we will jist huv tae insteid
See if we can get him back his hicht.
But if we cannae, it serves him richt.

28

Ainly Chairlie Left

‘Which room will we gang tae nixt?’ said Mr Wonka as he turnt awa and
dairtit intae the lift. ‘C’moan! Hurry up! We huv tae get gaun! Hoo mony
bairns are there left noo?’

Wee Chairlie looked at Granda Jock, and Granda Jock looked back at wee
Chairlie.

‘But Mr Wonka,’ Granda Jock cawed efter him, ‘there’s . . . there’s ainly
Chairlie left noo.’

Mr Wonka birled roond and gawked at Chairlie.
Chairlie stood there haudin his wheesht and tichtly haudin on tae Granda
Jock’s haun.
‘Ye mean you’re the ainly yin left?’ Mr Wonka said, pretendin tae be aw
shoacked.
‘Aye, I am,’ whuspered Chairlie. ‘Aye.’

Mr Wonka suddently explodit wi excitement. ‘But ma dear laddie,’ he cried
oot, ‘that means ye’ve won!’ He hirpled oot o the lift and sterted shakkin
Chairlie’s haun sae hard it nearly come aff the end o his airm. ‘Och, I dae
congratulate ye!’ he cried. ‘I really dae! I’m absolutely delichted! It couldnae
be better! Hoo wunnerfu this is! I kent, like, richt fae the stert, I kent it wis
gonnae be you! Weel done, Chairlie, weel done! This is braw! Noo the fun is
really gaun tae stert! But we cannae scutter! We cannae footer! There’s even
less time tae lose noo than there wis afore! We hae a muckle nummer o things
tae dae afore the day is oot! Jist think o aw the arrangements that hae tae be
redd up! And the folk we hae tae get! But luckily for us, we hae the muckle
gless lift tae speed awthin up! Lowp in, dear Chairlie, lowp in! You and aw,
Granda Jock, sir! Naw, naw, efter you! That’s the gemme! Noo then! This

time I will choose the button we are gonnae press!’ Mr Wonka’s bricht
skinklin blue een restit for a meenit on Chairlie’s fizzog.

Somethin mental’s gonnae happen noo, Chairlie thocht. But he wisnae
feart. He wisnae even nervous. He wis jist awfie excitit. And sae wis Granda
Jock. The auld man’s fizzog wis sheenin wi excitement as he watched ilka
move that Mr Wonka made. Mr Wonka wis raxin for a button high up on the
gless ceilin o the lift. Chairlie and Granda Jock baith cranned their craigies tae
read whit it said on the wee label aside the button.

It said . . . UP AND OOT
‘Up and oot,’ thocht Chairlie. ‘Whit sort o a room is that?’
Mr Wonka pressed the button.
The gless doors closed.
‘Hing on!’ cried Mr Wonka.
Then DOOF! The lift shot strecht up like a rocket! ‘Ya beauty!’ shouted
Granda Jock. Chairlie wis hingin on tae Granda Jock’s shanks again and Mr
Wonka wis haudin on tae a strap fae the ceilin, and up they gaed, up, up, up,
strecht up this time, wi nae joukin or jinkin, and Chairlie could hear the
whustlin o the air ootside as the lift gaed faster and faster. ‘Ya beauty!’
shouted Granda Jock. ‘Ya belter! Here we gang!’
‘Faster!’ cried Mr Wonka, skelpin the waw o the lift wi his haun. ‘Faster!
Faster! If we dinnae gang ony faster, we’ll never get through it!’
‘Through whit?’ shouted Granda Jock. ‘Whit huv we got tae get through?’
‘Ah-ha!’ cried Mr Wonka, ‘you hing on and ye’ll see! I’ve been deein tae
push this button for years! But I’ve never done it until noo! I wis temptit
mony times! Och, I wis temptit! But I couldnae staund the thocht o pittin a
muckle big hole in the roof o ma chocolate works! Here we gang, boays! Up
and oot!’
‘But ye dinnae mean . . . ’ shouted Granda Jock, ‘ . . . ye dinnae really mean
that this lift . . . ’
‘Och aye, I dae!’ answered Mr Wonka. ‘You hing on and ye’ll see! Up and
oot!’
‘But . . . but . . . but . . . it’s made oot o gless!’ shouted Granda Jock. ‘It’ll
brek intae a million bitties!’
‘I suppose it micht,’ said Mr Wonka, cheerfu as ever, ‘but it’s gey thick
gless sae mibbe it winnae.’
The lift wheeched on, gaun up and up and up and up, faster and faster and
faster . . .

Then suddently, DOOSH! – and the maist awfie soond o crashin widd and
brekkin tiles cam fae directly abune their heids, and Granda Jock shouted,
‘Help! It’s the end! We’re deid!’ and Mr Wonka said, ‘Naw, lads, we’re no
deid yet! We’ve gane through it! We’re oot!’ Richt enough, the lift had shot
richt through the roof o the factory and wis noo risin intae the sky like a
rocket, and the sunsheen wis poorin in through the gless roof. In five seconds
they were a thoosand fit up in the sky.

‘The lift’s gaun clean skite!’ shouted Granda Jock.
‘Dinnae be feart, ma dear sir,’ said Mr Wonka calmly, and he pressed

anither button. The lift stapped. It stapped and hovered, hingin in mid-air like
a helicopter, hingin ower the factory and ower the verra toun itsel that lay
spreid oot ablow them like a pictur postcaird! Lookin doon through the gless
flair on which he wis staundin, Chairlie could see the sma faur-awa hooses
and the streets and the snaw that lay thickly ower awthin. It wis an unco and
frichtenin feelin tae be staundin on clear gless sae high up in the sky. It made
ye feel that ye werenae staundin on onythin at aw.

‘Are we awricht?’ cried Granda Jock. ‘Hoo does this thing stey up?’
‘Sugar pouer!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Wan million sugar pouer! Haw, look,’ he
cried, pointin doon, ‘there’s aw the ither bairns! They’re aw gaun hame!’

29

The Ither Bairns Gang Hame

‘We huv tae gang doon and tak a look at oor wee freends afore we dae
onythin else,’ said Mr Wonka. He pressed a different button, and the lift
drapped doon until it wis hingin jist abune the entrance yetts tae the factory.

Lookin doon noo, Chairlie could see the bairns and their parents staundin in
a wee hiddle jist inside the yetts.

‘I can ainly see three o them,’ he said. ‘Wha’s no there?’
‘Nae doot it’s Mike Teeveeheid,’ Mr Wonka said. ‘But he’ll be comin alang
in the noo. Dae ye see the trucks?’ Mr Wonka pointit tae a line o gigantic vans
parked nearby.
‘Dae ye no mind whit it said on the Gowden Tickets? Ilka bairn gangs
hame wi a lifetime’s supply o sweeties. There’s a truckload for ilka ane o
them, stappit wi sweeties. Ah-ha,’ Mr Wonka cairried on, ‘there’s oor freend
Augustus Gowp! Dae ye see him? He’s gettin intae the first truck wi his
mither and faither!’
‘Ye mean he’s really awricht?’ spiered Chairlie, dumfoonert. ‘Even efter
gaun aw the wey up yon dreidfu pipe?’
‘He’s awfie awfie awricht,’ said Mr Wonka.
‘He’s chynged!’ said Granda Jock, keekin doon through the gless waw o
the elevator. ‘He used tae be a fattygus! Noo he’s a skinnymalink!’
‘Coorse he’s chynged,’ said Mr Wonka, lauchin. ‘He got squeezed in the
pipe. Dae ye no mind? And look! There’s Miss Violet Boakregarde, the warld
famous gum-chawer! It seems as though they managed tae de-juice efter aw.
I’m sae gled. And hoo healthy she looks! Faur better than afore!’

‘But she’s aw purpie in the face!’ cried Granda Jock.
‘Sae she is,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Acht weel, there’s no muckle we can dae

aboot that.’
‘Jings!’ cried Chairlie. ‘Look at puir Veruca Saut and Mrs and Mrs Saut!

They’re aw covered in glaur!’
‘And here cams Mike Teeveeheid!’ said Granda Jock. ‘Guid heivens! Whit

huv they done tae him? He’s aboot ten fit tall and a big lang skinnymalink!’
‘They’ve ower-streetched him on the gum-streetchin machine,’ said Mr

Wonka. ‘Hoo awfie careless.’
‘But hoo dreidfu for him!’ cried Chairlie.
‘Haivers,’ said Mr Wonka, ‘he’s gey lucky. Ilka basketbaw team in the

country will be efter him. But noo,’ he addit, ‘it’s time tae lea thir fower
glaikit bairns ahint. I hae somethin awfie important tae talk tae ye aboot, ma
dear Chairlie.’ Mr Wonka pressed anither button, and the lift birled upwards
intae the sky.

30

Chairlie’s Chocolate Works

The muckle gless lift wis noo hoverin high ower the toun. Inside the lift stood
Mr Wonka, Granda Jock and Chairlie.

‘Hoo I love ma chocolate works,’ said Mr Wonka, gawpin doon. Then he
stapped, and he turnt aroond and looked at Chairlie wi a maist serious
expression on his fizzog. ‘Dae you love it and aw, Chairlie?’ he spiered.

‘Oh, aye,’ cried Chairlie, ‘I think it’s the maist wunnerfu place in the haill
warld!’

‘I am sae pleased tae hear ye say that,’ said Mr Wonka, lookin mair serious
than he’d looked aw day. He keepit on gawpin at Chairlie. ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I
am awfie pleased indeed tae hear ye say that. And noo I will tell ye why.’ Mr
Wonka cockit his heid tae wan side and aw at wance the tottie skinklin
runkles o a smile appeart aroond the wicks o his een, and he said, ‘Ye see, ma
dear laddie, I hae decidit tae gie you the haill place as a present. As soon as
ye’re auld enough tae run it yersel, the entire factory will become aw yours.’

Chairlie gawped at Mr Wonka. Granda Jock opened his mooth tae speak,
but nae words cam oot.

‘It’s aw true,’ said Mr Wonka, wi a braid smile on his fizzog. ‘I’m really am
giein it tae ye. That’s awricht, is it no?’

‘Giein it tae him?’ peched Granda Jock. ‘Ye hae tae be jokin.’
‘I’m no nae jokin, sir. I’m deidly serious.’
‘But . . . but . . . why wid ye want tae gie yer factory tae wee Chairlie?’
‘Listen,’ Mr Wonka said, ‘I’m an auld man. I’m faur aulder than ye think. I
cannae gang on forever. I’ve got nae weans o ma ain, nae faimly at aw. Sae
wha’s gonnae run the factory efter I get ower auld tae dae it masel?
Somebody’s got tae keep it gaun – if ainly for the sake o the puir Heedrum-
Hodrums. Mind ye, there are thoosands o clivver men that wid gie onythin for

the chaunce tae cam in and tak ower fae me, but I dinnae want that sort o
person. I dinnae want a grown-up person at aw. A grown-up widnae listen tae
me; he’ll no learn. He wid try tae dae things his ain wey and no mines. Sae I
huv tae hae a bairn. I want a guid sensible lovin bairn, ane I can tell aw ma
maist precious sweetie-makkin secrets tae – while I’m aye alive.’

‘Sae that’s why ye sent oot the Gowden Tickets!’ cried Chairlie.
‘Exactly!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘I decidit tae invite five bairns tae the factory,
and the ane I liked best at the end o the day wid be the winner!’
‘But Mr Wonka,’ stootered Granda Jock, ‘dae ye really and truly mean you
are giein the haill o this muckle factory tae wee Chairlie? Efter aw . . . ’
‘There’s nae time for argle-barle!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘We hae tae gang at
wance and get the rest o the faimly – Chairlie’s faither and his mither and
onybody else that’s aboot! They can aw bide in the factory fae noo on! They
can aw help tae run it until Chairlie is auld enough tae dae it by himsel!
Whaur dae ye bide, Chairlie?’
Chairlie keeked doon through the gless flair at the snaw-happit hooses that
lay ablow. ‘It’s ower there,’ he said, pointin. ‘It’s yon wee bothy richt on the
edge o the toun, the tottie wee yin . . . ’
‘I see it!’ cried Mr Wonka, and he pressed some mair buttons and the lift
shot doon towards Chairlie’s hoose.
‘I ken ma mither winnae come wi us,’ Chairlie said wi a dowie look.
‘Why no?’
‘Because she’ll no lea Grannie Jockina and Grannie Geordietta and Granda
Geordie.’
‘But they can come and aw.’
‘They cannae,’ Chairlie said. ‘They’re awfie auld and they’ve no been oot
their bed in twinty year.’
‘Then we’ll tak the bed alang as weel, wi them in it,’ said Mr Wonka.
‘There’s hunners o room in this lift for a bed.’
‘Ye couldnae get the bed oot o the hoose,’ said Granda Jock. ‘It’ll no gang
through the door.’
‘Dinnae gie up hope!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘Naethin is impossible! Jist watch!’
The lift wis noo hoverin ower the roof o the Baffies’ wee hoose.
‘Whit are ye gonnae dae?’ cried Chairlie.
‘I’m gaun doon tae get them,’ said Mr Wonka.
‘Hoo are ye gonnae dae that?’ spiered Granda Jock.
‘Doon through the roof,’ said Mr Wonka, pressin anither button.

‘Naw!’ shouted Chairlie.
‘Stap!’ shouted Granda Jock.
DOOSHT gaed the lift, richt doon through the roof o the hoose intae the
auld folks’ bedroom. Shooers o stoor and crackit tiles and dauds o widd and
clockers and speeders and bricks and cement cam rainin doon on the three
auld yins wha were lyin in the bed, and ilka ane o them thocht it wis the end o
the warld. Grannie Geordietta passed oot, Grannie Jockina’s wallies shot oot o
her mooth, Granda Geordie pit his heid unner the blanket, and Mr and Mrs
Baffie cam breengin ben the hoose.
‘Save us!’ cried Grannie Jockina.
‘Calm yersel, ma darlin wife,’ said Granda Jock, steppin oot o the lift. ‘It’s
ainly us.’
‘Mither!’ cried Chairlie, lowpin intae Mrs Baffie’s airms. ‘Mither! Mither!
Listen tae whit’s happened! We’re aw gaun back tae bide in Mr Wonka’s
chocolate works and we’re gonnae help him run it and he’s giein it aw tae me
and . . . and . . . and . . . and . . .’
‘Whit are ye talkin aboot?’ said Mrs Baffie.
‘Jist look at oor hoose!’ cried puir Mr Baffie. ‘It’s aw ruined!’

‘Ma dear sir,’ said Mr Wonka, lowpin forrit and shakkin Mr Baffie warmly by
the haun, ‘I’m sae awfie gled tae meet ye. Ye shouldnae worry aboot yer
hoose. Fae noo on, ye’re no gonnae need it ever again.’

‘Wha’s this big haiverin galoot?’ skraiched Grannie Jockina. ‘He could hae
killt us tae we were aw deid!’

‘This,’ said Granda Jock, ‘is Mr Wullie Wonka himsel.’

It taen a lang time for Granda Jock and Chairlie tae explain tae awbody
exactly whit had been happenin tae them aw day. And even then they aw
refused a ride back tae the factory in the lift.

‘I’d raither dee in ma bed!’ shouted Grannie Jockina.
‘Sae wid I!’ cried Grannie Geordietta.
‘I’m no gaun!’ annoonced Granda Geordie.
Sae Mr Wonka and Granda Jock and Chairlie, peyin nae attention tae their
screamin and skirlin, simply pushed the bed intae the lift. They pushed Mr
and Mrs Baffie in efter it. Then they got in themsels. Mr Wonka pressed a
button. The doors closed. Grannie Geordietta skraiched. And the lift riz up aff
the flair and shot through the muckle hole in the roof and oot intae the open
sky.
Chairlie sclimmed on tae the bed and tried tae calm doon the three auld
folk wha were still tremmlin wi fear. ‘Please dinnae be frichtit,’ he said. ‘It’s
quite safe. And we’re gaun tae the maist wunnerfu place in the warld!’
‘Chairlie’s richt,’ said Granda Jock.
‘Will they hae onythin tae eat when we get there?’ spiered Grannie Jockina.
‘I’m stervin! The haill faimly is stervin!’
‘Onythin tae eat?’ cried Chairlie lauchin. ‘Och, jist you wait and see!’