Billy Plonka and the Grot Laboratory

By Ian Billings

Billy Plonka - the Prince of Stink, the Monarch of Muck, the Sultan of Slime, the Duke of Dregs and the King of Kak. He's the most extraordinary maker of GROT in the entire world, and he's invited 5 individuals (Orson Ploop - An overweight kazoo playing protégé; Victoria Scabb - 259th in line to the English throne; Viola Mudguard - 11-year-old, ex-Wollywood star; Spike Peecee - A self-obsessed dweeb who can never disconnect from the Internet; and Marley Suckett - An anti-hero), to visit his world-famous Grot Laboratory, and step into an adventure they will never forget!

Your tour is about to start. Don't wander off . You! Yes, You!!! I'm talking to You!!!!! Mr. Plonka would hate to lose you along the way... Read it!!!

Billy Plonka and the Grot Laboratory - the 100% unofficial official parody of one of the greatest children's stories of all time. This modern re-telling of the Roald Dahl's 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' stays true to the wonderful wit of Dahl, but brings the tale into the modern age with a lovely twist at the end. Each character meets their grotty fate as they go on their tour of the Grot Laboratory - as the name suggests, a disgusting place full of scumpiddlinoxious fumes and materials. Words reminiscent of Dahl fill the pages - Whi-ffi (it's like wifi only smellier), whazzplop and picklescooper to name but a few. 140 Pages

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ventorros Press Limited
• Release date: Jan 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781916049444

Ian Billings

Ian was born at a very young age. He is a comic, writer of books, plays, BBC Radio plays and pantomimes, a reformed juggler, an actor and dabbler in many areas. He is a veteran of over 50 pantomimes.For eight years he was director, writer and performer at Telford’s Place Theatre. Since appearing at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 2007 he has established himself as one of the country’s leading stand-up comics for kids (there’s not much competition to be fair) and toured the show to great acclaim in Australia, Cyprus, Germany, Egypt, Qatar,Switzerland, Russia, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, Brunei, Jordan, Oman, Vietnam, UAE, Uganda and Kenya.Ian has recently appeared in BBC TV “Doctors,” in the BBC radio drama,“The Colcloughs,” once penned episodes for CBBC TV’s “ChuckleVision,” and “Gigglybiz”.When not performing Ian is a children's author with seventeen titles published so far - 'Billy Plonka and the Grot Laboratory' is his first venture with Ventorros Press.He has an M.A. from the University of Birmingham and is going back next year for the rest of the alphabet. Ian was once described by an audience member as "The most imaginative adult I've ever met" and by one of his teachers as "Hopeless".

Book preview

This story is about the Suckett family.

Firstly, there are four grandparents who are dusty specimens of the human race called Grand-pop Fred and Grandmom Freda and Grand-pop Eric and Grandmom Erica. They look like they’ve been exhumed from a very dirty pyramid long ago and forgotten to die. They are easily a hundred years old each and have false teeth, but they keep forgetting whose is which pair and end up with each other’s.

Then there is Mr. and Mrs. Suckett. Well, you don’t need to know about them. Trust me, you don’t.

And finally Marley Suckett - probably one of the worst examples of the human race ever. If you thought the bully in your school was bad that’s nothing compared to Marley Suckett. If you thought the man who lives at the end of your road and clucks like a chicken whenever you walk past was bad that’s nothing compared to Marley Suckett. If you thought some of the worst dictators in history were bad that’s nothing compared to Marley Suckett. This is his school report:

"Worst pupil ever! He was once asked to visit the educational psychiatrist. Marley was unaffected by the visit, but the psychiatrist was later found sitting in the school pond, crying to herself and sucking on a damp teabag. Once after interviewing him, the careers advisor suggested he was best suited for work as a bank robber, global criminal mastermind or a careers advisor. He once lost the school sandpit.

Then he flooded the nursery with mouldy custard. Then he stole all the toilets and sold them on iBay and he did it all in one day because that’s the only time he ever-attended school. Very good at colouring in, though."

The entire Suckett family lived together in a mouldy old caravan. Seven of them in one caravan! It was the most gross caravan you could imagine. Stuff was dribbling down the walls, stuff was dribbling down the dribble, stuff was growing out of the walls, stuff was stuffy and it was everywhere. It was horrid, because no one cleaned. Ever. Everything was covered in grey dust, people were covered in grey dust - even the dust was covered in dust. Tufts of fungus grew on all the saucepans, stains crawled up the walls and termites screamed for help in the sink. But to the Sucketts it was home.

Across the tiny walls of the caravan were dusty paintings and photographs and memories of the Suckett family over the years.

Septimus Suckett - arrested in 1798 for goldfish rustling,

Jasper The Shrew Suckett - found in possession of thirty-two forged jellies,

Hilda Pokey Nose Suckett - twenty years for illicit sock trafficking,

Sir Norbert Cringe Suckett - life imprisonment for receiving stolen shoe laces.

Marley came from an entire family of thieves. There were hundreds of them. I could tell you more, but I really can’t be bothered doing the research. The current leader of the criminal clan was none other than Grandpop Fred. The one in the bed I told you about earlier. He had been stealing things for more years than he could remember, in fact, he had stolen more things than he could remember stealing and certainly couldn’t remember where he had stashed the things he’d couldn’t remember stealing.

Marley would often sit at the edge of the bed learning the skills needed to be a criminal mastermind whilst Grandmom Freda did a bit of knitting and hummed.

You must read the mind of the victim! said Grandpop Fred, closing his eyes. Follow me. Imagine the mind of the victim. Think as they think, do as they do, feel as they feel…

When he opened his eyes Marley was wearing Grandpop Fred’s tie, his hat and waving his wallet in the air.

Masterful! said Grandpop Fred, wiping away an admiring tear.

Grandpop Fred spent his life teaching Marley the skills of being a criminal. He had showed him how to pick a pocket, pick a victim and pick a nose. He had showed him how to forge a wig, stalk a tortoise, embezzle cheese, launder stolen cufflinks and vandalise a mop. Finally Marley had mastered them all. The family was so proud. They even bought* champagne to toast his success.

But none of this was enough for Marley. You see the Sucketts were certainly criminals, but not very ambitious ones. They could steal socks, certainly, nick the occasional radish and they were the go-to people for hot paperclips, but they still lived as one big, uncomfortable family in one small, uncomfortable caravan. None of the Sucketts had any ambition to be bigger criminals, none of them had plans to be the greatest, and none of them wanted anything better for themselves. None of them, that is, except Marley, and that’s where the story really begins.

Actually the story really begins on the day their television exploded. There it goes now….

…BANG!!!

Arghhhhhh!

What the diddling heck was that?

Where’s my teeth?

Where’s my tooth?

I can’t feel my knees!

"I can’t feel your knees, either!

Stop feeling my knees!

Those were just some of the words, which shot from the mouths of the Sucketts the day their television exploded. You see, because they were Sucketts, they had plugged plugs into plugs into plugs and overloaded the electricity supply, which they didn’t pay for anyway, and because they didn’t pay for it they were unlikely to get it back. There was no TV, no radio, no computer, no washing machine (not that they ever used it, but it made a nice home for the moles), no lights, nothing.

All they had now was a trickle of moonlight through the broken window as clouds of frazzled dust wafted through the air and settled on every single item of furniture and Grandpop Eric.

Grandmom Freda sniffed and said, It’s never looked more beautiful!

In the quiet following the explosion the Sucketts sat and pondered what they should do next. They could tidy up, but why spoil everything? They could sing a song but they only knew rude ones. They could sit and stare at the ceiling ….

Or we could just talk… The voice came from the mouth on the face of Mr. Suckett. It wasn’t the most pleasant of faces and, I think, his mouth would have happily left and joined another face if it wasn’t attached by his lips. Mr. Suckett rarely spoke and when he did it rarely made sense. He had thick, thuggish eyebrows over thick, thuggish eyes and emerged from behind the sofa like a grumpy hippo coming up for air.

Mr. Suckett was a very unpleasant man who you wouldn’t like to meet in a dark alley or, indeed, in broad daylight. He was the kind of man who when he looked in your direction something inside you wobbled.

Talk? said Grandpop Fred, scraping some dust into a pile.

Yes, talk, said Mr. Suckett, lurching forward and staring into the worried face of Grandpop Fred.

With words?

Yes.

To each other?

Yes.

Can’t we just stare at the ceiling?

The others nodded, eagerly dislodging avalanches of dust from their heads.

I like staring at the ceiling! said Grandmom Freda then sneezed loudly firing her teeth from her mouth, which she swiftly caught and slapped back in with a plop.

Tell Marley about the Grot Laboratory! snapped Mr. Suckett.

I can’t remember anything about it, mumbled Grandpop Fred, which was his standard answer to any question.

Mr. Suckett leaned closer to Grandpop Fred, located a dangly nasal hair, pinched it between his filthy fingers and pulled it tight.

Twonggg! went the nasal hair.

N’aarrggghh! went Grandpop Fred.

Tell him!

Alright, alright! muttered Grandpop Fred.

Mr. Suckett released the hair and it snapped back into his nostril with a bo-ing.

Grandpop Eric drew a spluttering candle close enough to illuminate Grandpop Fred’s face as he sat on the bed amongst the dust and clutter and wondered where to begin his tale. The Sucketts