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Happy 12 everyone ! We are starting 2012 with a Bertie story this week, and a Katie story next… and look out for the final chapters of the Wizard of Oz and a spectacular Greek Myth.

Just in case you are new to Bertie and his stories – let us explain – these days he is a frog and has some pond-life friends, but in the past he was a human prince.

In this story, we hear about one of Bertie’s human adventures. It took him to the jungle of Papua New Guinea along the famed Kokoda Trail. The Lovely Princess Beatrice came with him. They were in search of long lost Cousin Jonas who has discovered the Secret of Eternal Youth. The Wicked Queen wants it – but will she us it, as promised for the good of mankind?

And by the way, the secret or sweet potato is also known in America as a yam.

Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 31 min.

Only last week, I was walking past the Palace Pond, when I heard a deep groan. I looked at the water, and saw some angry-looking bubbles on the surface. Then I heard an unmistakable voice:

“Oh Tim, When are you going to grow up?” It was Colin the Carp, groaning and grumping as usual. Perhaps this time, he had good reason. Tim the Tadpole was annoying him by tickling his belly.

Sadie, the elegant black swan, heard his complaint too. She swam out of the rushes and said: “I don’t think Little Tim is ever going to grow up into a frog. In fact, I think he has discovered the Secret of Eternal Youth.”

“Ooh that sounds exciting,” said Tim. “Er what is it?”

As ever, Prince Bertie the Frog was on hand to answer Tim’s questions.

“Let me tell you Tim,” he said. “It’s a potato.”

When Prince Bertie said this, Colin the Carp thrashed the water with his tail so hard that some drops splashed on my face.

“Is this pond full of fools?” groaned Colin. “How can the Secret of Eternal Youth be a Potato? That frog’s brain is a potato, more like…!”

“Well actually,” said Bertie, “The Secret of Eternal Youth really is a potato. Or to be precise, it is a Sweet Potato. I know that for a fact because when I was a human prince, I brought it back from the Jungle….”

“Oooh Bertie, do tell us the story…” pleaded Tim. Colin sighed heavily, but all the other pond life gathered around excitedly to hear Bertie’s story – and I pricked up my ears too….

It was winter. The Palace cook was off work with a cold. At breakfast time, the Wicked Queen went into the kitchen and made Bertie’s porridge herself.

“There you are Bertie,” she said, as she placed the steaming bowl of milky oats in front of him on the dining room table, ” Just how you like it.”

” I don’t really feel like porridge today,” said the Prince. “I’ve got a bit of a rotten tummy.”

For a second, an angry glint flashed across the Queen’s eye, and then she said soothingly, “Come on now, eat up. There’s nothing like a bowl of porridge to get you through the morning.”

“Sorry, I’d rather not,” said Bertie. He looked guiltily across the table at Princess Beatrice who was frowning at him. After breakfast, she tapped Bertie on the shoulder at the foot of the stairs.

“There’s no need to be so rude to my step-mother,” she said frostily.

“I can’t help it,” said Bertie. “Sometimes she just scares the life out of me.”

“Couldn’t you see how hurt she was when you wouldn’t eat her porridge? You seemed to think she had dropped poison in it.”

“Well… yeah……,” said Bertie, quite sarcastically.

“Oh sometimes ….you’re just impossible,” said Beatrice annoyed, and she started to stomp off, which was not at all like her. Then she turned around and said: “Not every step-mother is wicked you know. And she’s going to be your mother-in-law one day, so you better start seeing the sweet side of her.”

Bertie was upset, as well as hungry, as he climbed the stairs. The last thing he wanted to do was to get on the wrong side of Beatrice. She had such a lovely character, she just couldn’t see that her step-mother, the Queen, truly was wicked. The world might well be full of lovely mother-in-laws, and charming step-mothers, but this one was well.. like something out of a scary fairytale.

For the rest of the week, the Wicked Queen, was so sweet, and so full of thoughtful little gestures, that Bertie became more suspicious of her than ever. On Saturday morning, she bought Beatrice a present – a delicate and beautiful orchid for her collection. It had snowy white flowers, with beautiful purple centres that looked just like butterflies.

As they admired the lovely plant, the Queen said casually, “Or course, if you want to see rare orchids in the wild, you really ought to go to Papua New Guinea.”

“Really?” said Beatrice. “Perhaps Bertie and I can go there on holiday.”

“Oh you would love it,” said the Queen, “The biodiversity is incredible.”

Bertie tried not to groan. He knew that “biodiversity” – which means a wide selection of life forms – was just the word to use if you wanted to persuade Beatrice of anything. She truly loves the environment and all living things.

“Oh Bertie ! Do let’s go there for our holiday,” she cooed. “I do so want to go to Papua New Guinea to see the Biodiversity.”

“And while you are there,” said the Queen, “You can look up our long lost cousin Jonas. He lives in the Rain Forest and is an expert on the nature of New Guinea.”

“Oh how wonderful,” said Beatrice.

Bertie sighed. He knew that the wicked Queen was plotting something – but there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

But what was the Queen up to? Was she planning for them to be kidnapped by pirates or eaten by cannibals? He didn’t dare suggest anything of the sort to Beatrice. She would be furious with him. He would have to wait for clues. And gradually the clues came. The nearer they got to the holiday, the more the Queen spoke about Cousin Jonas. There was an article about him on the internet with a photograph. He stood on a cliff with with the tree tops of the jungle spreading out for miles behind him. He looked about 25 years old – not a day older than when he left the palace 25 years ago.

“I do believe,” revealed the Queen, “that Cousin Jonas has discovered the Secret of Eternal Youth. Just think Beatrice darling… what a benefit this could be to humanity ! We could make medicines that could cure every illness. Bring back the secret to me, my sweet, or else it may never get out. Greedy Cousin Jonas is just keeping it to himself. That can’t be right. Go to him, Beatrice, with your sweet smile, and persuade him to do the right thing.”

Bertie tried to seem keen on the Wicked Queen’s plan to benefit mankind, but it was no use – Beatrice knew that he was thinking negative thoughts. Her manner was a little colder than usual to her prince.

They flew first to Australia, and then to Port Moresby, the capital of Papua New Guinea. At the airport, they were met by their tour guide, an Australian called Roger Jolly. “Mates call me Jolly Roger,” he said with a grin as he firmly shook their hands.

He showed them the way to the car – which was, as it turned out, a pick-up truck. Princess Beatrice sat in the cab next to Jolly Roger. Prince Bertie sat on the back of the truck with the luggage. He was kept company buy Roger’s righthand-man, a Papua New Guinean called Simon, and known to his mates as Sly Si.

As they drove through the town, Bertie saw that most of the houses were defended by barbed wire and metal gates. “Don’t go for a walk in Port Moresby,” warned Sly Si. “There are plenty of murders.”

And Bertie decided that he could manage without stretching his legs that evening.

They drove to the gleaming white Yacht Club, which was where all the rich people and foreigners liked to hang out. That evening they ate grilled fish out in the warm tropical air. Beatrice told him that they wanted to find Cousin Jonas in the village of Tanga. Jolly Roger looked at Sly Si. Si said: “That’s in the Owen Stanley Mountains, about four or five days hike along the Kokoda Trail.”

“Great, I love walking,” said Beatrice.

“That’s good,” said Jolly Roger, with a smile,”Because the Kokoda Trail is just about the toughest walk in the world.”

Two days later, they drove out to the Owen’s Corner, which is at the start of the famed Kokoda trail. Five porters joined Bertie in the back of the truck, each with a huge rucksack.

They drove as far as they could, before the road just petered out. Before them rose the mountains, covered in dense jungle. The only sign of human life was a bronze monument.

“That’s to the heroes of the Second World War,” explained Roger. “The Australians fought the Japanese through these mountains and beat them off – otherwise Australia might have been invaded.” Then turning to Sly Si he said, “And the locals played a big part too. The worked as porters. They carried the injured on stretchers, and tended to their wounds. The troops called them Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels, because they never abandoned an injured solider, even under heavy fire. ”

After a minute or two of silence, to acknowledge the heroes of the past, they heaved their packs onto their backs and began to plod down the same trail that the troops and the angels had taken in 1942.

At first they went down, but soon they were climbing. The rain started to pitter-patter on the broad leaves above their heads. Some of it managed to dribble down the backs of their collars. The porters cut long walking sticks for them for Beatrice and Bertie. Still it was hard to get a good foothold. Beatrice was the first to slide face down in the mud.

“Bertie, where were you looking? Why didn’t you catch me?” she said testily as he helped her up. Bertie ignored the unfair remark, and said. “Don’t worry dearest. It can’t be like this all the way.”

“Oh yes it can,” said Jolly Roger with a grin.

Often the jungle track divided – one path going one way – the other in a different direction. Fortunately, the porters knew the trail just as certainly as Beatrice knew her way around the palace gardens. Quite often the trail disappeared all together. The porters took out their machetes and scythed a path through the undergrowth, with as little effort as if they were spreading butter on bread. The great packs did not seem to give them any trouble at all. And most remarkable of all – some of them weren’t even wearing boots on their feet – but flip-flops, as if they were strolling down to the beach.

It was still raining that night when they struck camp. The porters cut big logs to get a fire going, and Bertie and Beatrice washed in an icy cold mountain stream. Bertie did his best to help put up the tents, but most of the work was done by the porters. They brewed up the best drink of tea ever. And then they ate a supper of Vegetable Stew – made from a packet – and Sweet Potato Mash. One of the porters was carrying a ruck sack that was filled with nothing but sweet potatoes. Sweet Potatoes were to be the main diet along the trail.

And at long last, they stretched out in their lovely dry sleeping blankets and fell asleep to the mysterious whoops and cries of the jungle birds and animals.

Over the next few days they crossed gushing rivers with the help of ropes, and struggled up and down steep slopes. The rain stopped, and often the sun brightened things up. Sometimes they waded through long wet grass, and slug-like leaches fastened themselves to their legs.

“They like sucking Bertie’s blue blood,” said Jolly Roger, who usually had a joke to hand.

“They have good taste,” said Beatrice, “UGGH There’s one on me…. Get it off me Bertie…”

“I thought you liked all living things,” said Bertie as he sprayed it with insect repellent.

“I do,” she said, “It’s not their fault they like our blood.”

Roger made sure that they treated any little cuts and grazes with stinging iodine, because he said wounds could go rotten in the damp jungle air. Sly Si always came up at the back of the line, to make sure that nobody got left behind. They were in good hands – but if anyone twisted an ankle, there was only one way out of the jungle – on a stretcher carried by the porters.

They stopped often to drink water, and for Beatrice to photograph wild orchids. She wasn’t disappointed – there were many that she had not seen before, even in books. One time Sly Si pointed and said “Look over there,” and he started to walk towards a huge snake that was draped over some branches. He took it in his arms and wrapped it around himself. Then suddenly he made a choking nose and rolled his eyes:

“Oh no, it’s a python and it can squeeze the life out of him,” squealed Beatrice in horror.

But it was just an empty skin that a python had shed.

“Nice one,” laughed Jolly Roger, as Sly Si draped the skin back on the tree, to scare the next group of hikers.

On the fourth day, they reached Jonas’s village. It was on a high plateau, overlooking the tops of the trees for miles and miles. The village huts stood on stilts, growing out of a green lawn that was almost as perfect as a cricket pitch. The hikers were greeted by a group of local kids who wanted to know the latest rugby scores. Bertie made up for their lack of sports results, by handing out pens and badges.

“Can you take us to Jonas?” asked Beatrice hopefully. But they did not have to – because a youthful looking man was walking towards them.

“He can’t be fifty years old. He must be Jonas’s son,” whispered Bertie. But Beatrice was ready to believe that this relative of hers had discovered the Secret of Eternal Youth.

“Er, Prince Jonas, I presume,” said Bertie.

“It’s quite a while since anybody has called me Prince,” replied the youth, “But I am Jonas.”

“Well I’m Prince Bertie and this is your relative, Princess Beatrice. You may not know her, because she was born after you left the palace.”

“Yes, that was a long time ago,” said Jonas. “Well I haven’t heard from my family for a long time. Welcome to my home. Have some tea and, we’ll get dinner ready for you. Hope you like sweet potatoes. It’s all we have around here.”

“We can provide tinned sardines,” said Bertie.

“Oh wonderful,” enthused Jonas.

“And chocolate..” added Bertie.

“You must come more often,” said Jonas.

As they sat around the fire that evening, a sky crammed with stars looked down upon them. They were about as far away from anywhere as you could possibly get. All around the clearing was steep jungle – and it was at least three days hike until you got to anything like a road. The word “remote” hardly summed it up. While they tucked in to their feast of sweet potatoes, sardines and chocolate, the villagers sung and banged drums for them. When the din died down, Beatrice said:

“Cousin Jonas, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how old are you?”

“I will probably seem ancient to a youngster like you,” admitted Jonas, “It was my fiftieth birthday last month.”

“Wow,” said Bertie .

“Pretty old aren’t I?” said Jonas.

“But you can’t be that old,” said Beatrice. “You hardly look older than Bertie.”

“Hmm. Well, you can’t beat a diet of fresh air, mountain water, and sweet potatoes,” explained Jonas.

“Oh come on, you must have a bigger secret than that,” said Beatrice, “Do tell…”

“Worried about getting lines are you? I shouldn’t be concerned at your age. Well perhaps I will tell,” said Jonas. “We’ll see in the morning. ”

After Beatrice had gone to bed, Bertie and Jonas stayed up for one last square of chocolate each. “Do you ever miss your life of comfort and ease in the palace?” asked Bertie.

“Sometimes,” said Jonas. “But I had no choice. I had to leave.”

‘Why?” asked Bertie.

“In a word, Hilda.”

“Ah Hilda,” said Bertie. “I understand. In fact, one day I might have to leave because of Hilda.” Because… you see … Hilda was the person who is now better known as the Wicked Queen.

Later on, as Bertie lay awake in his sleeping bag, he wondered about his moral dilemma. Loyalty to Beatrice dictated that he should help her on her mission to take Jonas’s secret back to the Queen. But his instinct that the Queen had no good intentions, meant that he ought to warn Cousin Jonas. Even though his limbs were weak from the day’s jungle hike, the problem kept turning around his head and preventing him from falling asleep.

In the morning, Beatrice began her assault on Jonas with all her batteries of charm and persuasion.
Bertie could hardly believe the way she fluttered her eyelids and pleaded: ‘Dear Jonas, just think of all the good you could do for humanity if you shared your secret.”

And Jonas was clearly weakening and saying things like, “Well I suppose it has been a bit selfish of me to keep it to myself. I just didn’t want it fall into the wrong sort of hands.”

“Oh I promise will do the best thing possible for your secret. We’ll give it to my step-mother who is ever such a clever woman, isn’t she Bertie? ” said Beatrice. And Bertie had no choice but to nod. He felt a real heel, knowing that Beatrice was going to give it to Hilda, because she really believed that her step-mother would use it for the good of mankind.

At last Jonas gave in. “Well I’ll tell you,” he said. “I’ve developed a special breed of Sweet Potato. I make it into a kind of paste and rub it into my skin. Everyone who has tried it – including many of the villagers here – seems to stay young. I can’t say if lasts eternally – it’s too early to say yet – and I suppose it always will be – ha ha.”

“Oh thank you,” said Beatrice throwing her arms around him. “Will you let us take some back home with us?”

“I’ll get some ready for you,” said Jonas. “Enough to put under a microscope – and some left over for your personal use.”

“Oh I don’t want to use it myself,” insisted Beatrice.

Bertie felt he could hold in his conscience no more. Later, when Beatrice was hunting for orchids on the other side of this village, he said to Jonas.

“Look please don’t let on that I told you this. Beatrice is such a sweet girl. She just can’t see any bad in her stepmother…who is somebody you know..”

“Who exactly…?” asked Jonas, suspiciously.

“Hilda,” said Bertie. “I fear that your secret might not be put to the best use. But what am I to do? If Beatrice catches on that I’ve told you this, I will be right in the do-do.”

“Well we don’t want you dumped in the do-do, do we?” said Jonas. “I have an idea. I’ll give one preparation to you – secretly – and I’ll give another one for Beatrice to give to her step-mother. It will be a nice little present from me to Hilda.”

The next day, their trekking expedition restarted along the Kokoda trail. At first, their stiff limbs protested at being made to work again, but they soon got into the swing of things. Some fine weather saw them through the day. They climbed even higher into the Owen Stanley Mountains, where the air became thinner, and strange trees and shrubs fascinated the botanist in Beatrice. After that, the way was mostly down. On the final day, they waded through some long bush grass, and out into the welcome end-of-trail station to be greeted by the universal symbol of civilisation – Coca- Cola.

After a few blissful days on the beach at Buna, they flew back to Port Moresby, on to Sydney, and then back home. Beatrice carried a jar of the Secret Sweet Potato Cream in her hand luggage. Bertie carried an even more secret formula inside his suitcase.

“You little darling!” exclaimed the Wicked Queen as Beatrice handed over the jar from Uncle Jonas. “We’re RICHHHHHHH!”

‘What do you mean, rich?” asked Beatrice.

“Oh don’t you see? People will pay a fortune for an anti-wrinkle cream that actually works. And as for a hair restorer, even the King would give his crown for one of those, if it did what it said on the tin. It’s what human kind has been striving for all these centuries…. The Cure for Baldness…. The Removal of Wrinkles…..The End of Cellulite… The Eat What You Want and be as Thin as a School Girl Diet….. in short, The Secret of Eternal Youth….”

In her delight, t he Queen was looking younger already – she did a little dance of glee.

And Beatrice was so upset that she turned to Bertie, her eyes full of tears, and said. “Don’t you dare say a word… ” before she ran up to her room.

“I don’t think that’s quite what Beatrice thought you meant by the good of mankind,” he said to the Queen, before leaving the room. Out in the corridor he smiled to himself, because he had already sent the even more secret formula to a top scientist who was working on all sorts of cures for various illnesses.

“Foolish children!” said the queen to herself, as she swept upstairs to her dressing room. “Now let’s just try out a little of this on ourself.”

She stood before the mirror and rubbed some of the sweet potato cream into her face. Almost instantly, the deep troughs around her eyes disappeared. She looked twenty years young.

“I’m beeeee-autiful, ” she exclaimed. .

But when she woke up in the morning, she opened her mouth and all she could say was ‘WAAAAA’ because Uncle Jonas and supplied an extra strong formula, and she had turned back into a baby. Bertie called the Palace Nanny and told her to keep the development a secret. The Wicked Queen grew back into her former self within a week, though, as Bertie noted, her face was perhaps just a bit older and a bit more evil looking than before.

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Prince Bertie the Frog has always considered himself to be something of a comedian. His speciality is penguin jokes. He is delighted when he is asked to do a Christmas Eve performance of his stand-up comedy act at a pond in a neighbouring kingdom.

Bertie and Tim the Tadpole plan to fly back to their own pond in time for Christmas Day. Unfortunately, snow and fog is disrupting all the transport. They find themselves at a bus depot with a motley collection of creatures, including a penguin.

Pictures for Storynory by Ivana Nohel. Click Pictures to enlarge
Read by Natasha
Story by Bertie

Hello, this is Natasha, and I’m delighted to wish you a very happy Christmas for the sixth year of Storynory. A big thank you to all our listeners, especially those who have been with us since the very beginning. And now, I would like to hand you over to our host, Prince Bertie the Frog who has been polishing his stand up comedy act lately..

[Play up Music - Jazzy Christmas Carol - and fade]

Bertie’ voice in slightly echo-y microphone… touch of feedback

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Tadpoles and frogs, birds and fish…. Insects and creepy crawlies, it’s an honour to be with you tonight of all nights, Christmas Eve, and I mean that most sincerely, folks.

Here’s a little story about a man who had 12 penguins in the back of his car. A policeman stopped him and said, ” I say, I say I say, it’s against the law to drive penguins around in the back of you car. You must take them to the zoo.”

And the man said, “I am sorry officer. I promise to take my penguins to the zoo right away.”

The next day, the same man took the 12 penguins for a drive again. This time he dressed them in dark sun glasses and swimming trunks. The policeman stopped him at the roundabout and said: “You can’t fool me with that disguise. You promised yesterday to take those penguins to the zoo.” And the man said:

“Yes officer. I did take them to the zoo. That was yesterday. Today I’m taking them to the beach”.

[Canned Laughter...... ]

Natasha’s Narrator voice….

And that was a little taste of Bertie the Frog’s sense of humour. As you may know, Bertie loves to tell jokes. His speciality is penguin jokes like that one. Opinions are divided about how funny they are. Some people, like Tim the Tadpole, think they are hilarious. Others, like Colin the Carp, think they are about as amusing as a toe caught in the door – or perhaps that should be a fin.

One Christmas, Bertie was really thrilled to be invited to do his stand up comedy act in front of the entire pond. Only, it wasn’t the usual pond where he lives. He was invited abroad – to the next door Kingdom – to perform in front of all the Posh Pondlife who lived in the palace pond over there. He and Tim the Tadpole sneaked on board an aeroplane inside the handbag of an out-of-work princess who was flying home for Christmas. When she arrived home at her palace, she was rather surprised to see a green frog hop out of her handbag. She didn’t even notice that there was a tiny little tadpole hiding inside his armpit.

Bertie made his way down to the water’s edge in time to do his act. All the pondlife at the next door Kingdom really loved his penguin jokes. His biggest fan of all was a happy Carp called Caroline who asked him to marry her -but he couldn’t accept, because he was already engaged to the lovely Princess Beatrice.

Unfortunately, Bertie could not stay for the stage party, because he had to fly home to his own pond in time for Christmas. He and Tim hitched a lift to the airport on the back of a duck who flew them to Departure Terminal. They hid among the suitcases of the Christmas holiday makers, and anxiously watched the flight information screens. Most of the flights were marked “Delayed” in red letters.

“Oh dear,” said Bertie, “I think we are in for a bit of a wait.”

“Never mind,” said Tim, “We can buy last minute Christmas presents. I’ll get some duty free slime for Uncle Joe , and a box of chocolate covered dead flies for Colin.”

“I don’t think that we can get those here,” said Bertie, “You need a boarding pass to buy anything at the airport. ”

“Oh,” said Tim.

A little later, there was a rather disappointing announcement over the Tannoy.

“We regret to inform you that all fights are cancelled due to exceptionally heavy snow and thick fog. Passengers are advised to continue their journey as best they can, by car, bus or foot. Royal United Airports would like to wish you a very happy Christmas.”

The passengers looked glum, and some prepared to spend Christmas night sleeping on the floor of the airport. Bertie said: “We don’t have a car, or a bus pass, and it’s too far to hop on foot.”

“I know!” declared Tim. And Bertie sighed, because he expected that his little friend was about to say something exceptionally stupid. But Tim surprised him with a really good idea: “Let’s take the train.”

“Brilliant!” exclaimed Bertie. “I love trains. When I was a prince I used to drive one… but that’s a story for another time.”

There was a station right at the airport, and Bertie and Tim managed to hop onto a train almost right away. They would have to change at Doncaster, but otherwise it was a straight-forward journey home. They settled in to the first class buffet, where they hid inside a cupboard, and started to munch on a mince pie and a fruit cake.

“Oh dear! Will we miss Santa?” asked Tim, anxiously, as the train came to a halt about 15 minutes down the track.

“Don’t worry about that,” said Bertie, “You’ll be home just in time to open your presents.”

Back on the pond Sadie the Swan was singing a Christmas carol for all the pondlife:

God rest you merry, Gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay,
For Jesus Christ our Saviour
Was born upon this Day.
To save us all from Satan’s power,
When we had gone astray.
O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy.

But her heart wasn’t quite in the Christmas celebrations – The festive mood did not come easily when she was worried about absent friends.

“Tish, Tish,” she said, “Bertie and Tim should be back by now. Something must have happened….”

“You’re right,” said Colin, “I expect the audience killed them for telling such terrible penguin jokes.”

“Oh Colin, don’t be so horrid,” said Sadie, who was now more upset than ever.

“Well they probably just got delayed by the fog,” suggested Colin. “They might be late for Christmas, but they will be back, unfortunately, I guarantee..”

“But if Bertie’s not here, who will be our Santa and hand out all the presents?” fretted Sadie. “Only Bertie knows where they are all hidden.”

“Well that’s typical,” grumped Colin, “Trust a frog to mess up everyone’s Christmas.”

….

The frog in question was on the move again, only very slowly. The train heaved and hoed into a station before clanking to a halt. The guard walked through the corridor calling, “All Change, Everybody out – you can’t sleep here. Sir, up you get…. Happy Christmas Ma’m ‘fraid this train’s cancelled. Too much snow on the tracks…”

“Can’t a train get through a bit of snow,” complained a very stressed-looking man.

“No, no, sir,” said the guard. “It’s the wrong type of snow.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Regulations,” said the guard. “Nothing I can do about it. Now….. just step out the front of the station. The bus stop is on the right hand side.”

Bertie, with Tim in on his back, hopped off the train and onto the dark platform. The only light came from a flickering neon bulb in the waiting room. “Brr it’s cold,” said Tim, “And rather creepy.”

“Yes, we’d better find that bus,” agreed Bertie.

“Where can we buy a ticket?” asked Tim.

“You won’t need a ticket little Tim,” said Bertie. “You’re under 12 weeks old. Kids go free. And tonight, so do frogs. The important thing is not to get trodden on.”

Just then, a little boy called out:

“Oh look mummy, there’s a frog. I’m going to stamp on him.”

“Don’t be so unkind,” said his mother. “Frogs have a right to live too you know, especially at Christmas.” Bertie wanted to add “Here here, well spoken,” but he wasn’t taking any chances and he hopped off as fast as he could.

The driver wanted everyone to buy a bus ticket. The passengers, who had already paid for air and train tickets, were in no mood to pay again, and were arguing with him.

“The airline should stump up for this bus”, said a man with a moustache.

“And give us compensation. They’ve ruined our Christmas,” added his wife.

“You should have read the terms and conditions on the website,” said the driver. “No refunds for delays on account of the wrong type of snow.”

This bickering gave Bertie and Tim the perfect chance to climb on board, unseen, and hide under a seat.

The driver, who also wanted to get home for Christmas, finally relented and let everyone on the bus without paying. They drove down a dark road for about twenty minutes and came to a halt.

“Right-oh, everyone off, this is the end of the line,” said the driver.

“What do you mean the end of the line? We’ve got to get Doncaster.” said the lady who had been complaining earlier on.

“Doncaster?” laughed the driver. “That’s miles away.”

“Well we shan’t budge,” said the lady. “Come one everybody let’s stage a sit-in.” There were cheers and grunts up and down the bus.

“Fine by me,” said the Driver. “I’m off home for Christmas. You can sleep in the bus if you like.”

And he left.

The passengers were furious, and started to shout at the driver, but he was already gone. Some people complained. Some people settled down for a Christmas night on the bus seats. Others climbed out to breath some air that was more than just a bit fresh, it was cold enough to chill a penguin.

“Bertie,” said Tim, “Where are we?”

“I’ve no idea,” said Bertie.

“Oh,” he sniffed, “We shall miss Christmas after all.”

“Not a bit of it,” said Bertie. “You can’t miss Christmas. It’s everywhere. We’ll have it here. Let’s see what sort of a place this is.”

They found a hole in the floor of the bus, just by the brake pedal, jumped down, and landed softly in the snow. It was very dark. Large shadows loomed around them.

“Are they monsters?” asked Tim timidly.

“No they’re buses,” said Bertie. “I expect this is some sort of depot. Listen, I can hear a duck quacking. Perhaps there’s a nice cosy pond hereabouts.

And they moved off in the direction of the quack. But they didn’t find a pond. Only a sort of left luggage office, with suitcases and, crates, and parcels that had not made it to their destinations in time for Christmas. They found their way in through a mousehole in the wall.

“I’m sure that quack came from in here,” said Bertie.

“QUACK!”

“There it is a again!”

“HONK!”

“And I do believe that was a goose!”

“Of course I’m a goose,” said a goosey sort of voice.

And in the thin moonlight that came through the window, Bertie saw that there was a duck and a goose, both sitting in crates.

“We’re stuck here for Christmas,” said the Duck,

“That’s a coincidence, because so are we,” said Tim.

“MUUUURRRR !” it’s not at all nice,” said a cat, who was abandoned inside a cat carrier, “People are so inconsiderate. They are sitting at home stuffing themselves with cooked birds – I beg your pardon – and here we are shivering at the station, living gifts that got lost in the post.”

“Well well,” said Bertie, “What an odd collection of lost souls we are.”

“Speak for yourself,” said an even more peculiar voice.

“Who’s that?” asked Bertie, “I can’t see so well in the dark.”

“I’m a penguin,” said the voice,”On my way to the zoo, but abandoned here because of the ice and snow. I love ice and snow, but I can’t get out of this wretched cage and enjoy it.”

“Ha Ha!” said Bertie, “This is really funny- peculiar. I know loads of penguin jokes, but I’ve never met a real live penguin before. Do you know this one… What do penguins have for lunch?”

“No I don’t,” said the Penguin.

“Iceberg-ers!, HA ! HA!” exclaimed Bertie.

“That’s not funny,” said the Penguin.

“Hey what do you call a penguin in the desert?….. Lost ! HA HA.”

“Oh Bertie that’s the funniest one yet,” exclaimed Tim. And the duck, the goose and the cat started to chuckle, not so much at the joke, but because the penguin was getting really cross – and a cross penguin is quite a funny sight.

Now, at the pond, Sadie was not able to sleep. She was getting her feathers in a fret about her friends. In fact, if the truth be told, even Colin was a little worried, though he would never have said so.

“Oh Colin, They should have been back hours ago,” she said sadly. “how would we ever know if something terrible had happened to them?”

“Well expect we’d hear eventually from one of those birds,” said Colin, “They always have the news.”

And as it happened, a thirsty sparrow was nearby, pecking at the ice on the pond.

“Hey Dicky Bird,” said Colin, “What’s the latest gossip?”

“Oh haven’t you heard?, it’s all over Twitter,” he replied.

“I wouldn’t know anything that’s all over Twitter,” said Colin, “Because I’m a fish… duhh.”

“Well,” said the bird, “They’re tweeting about a frog who is telling hilarious penguin jokes to a collection of birds and animals. One of them’s a penguin and he’s getting really cross. They say it’s really funny. I’m just flying off there to see.”

“Oh how can we thank you enough!” said Sadie. “That must be Bertie!”

“No it can’t be,” said Colin, “Bertie’s jokes aren’t funny. It must be some other frog if they are laughing.”

But Sadie was already flapping her great black wings and asking the sparrow for directions. He pointed her in the direction of the remote bus depot, some miles away, and she went skidding over the ice and soared into the air. High up in the sky, she saw that there were indeed flocks of birds heading the same way – all wanting to join the audience for the hilarious Christmas show. When Sadie landed at the depot, quite a crowd was gathered on the roof and at the windows.

“I say, I say I say..” Bertie was saying….”Why did the Penguin cross the road….? er, oh, I’ve forgotten that one. UM…. it must be getting late.” And he looked under his arm, and saw that little Tim was already asleep.

“Well boys, birds, gulls, gals and everyone else…. you’ve been a lovely audience, but I’m afraid that’s it for tonight. Happy Christmas!”

And Sadie said:

“Oh Bertie. You were wonderful. Happy Christmas.”

“By Jove, Sadie, I didn’t know you were in the audience ! ”

“I just got here,” said Sadie,”Your fame is travelling far and wide. Hop on my back. I’ll fly you and Tim home for Christmas.”

And unlike most of the transport that Christmas night, Sadie’s private flight did not break down, get cancelled by fog, or stop in some remote depot. Of course there was one other carrier that was flying that night – and that was pulled by reindeer… Bertie spotted the famous sleigh, and he called out:

“Hey Santa. There are some lost animals abandoned in the bus depot down there. Perhaps you could go and cheer them up”

“Yo Ho Ho!” replied Santa. “Presents on the way.”

And that was the story of Bertie, lost at Christmas.

I do hope that you enjoyed. Don’t forget there are loads more stories on Storynory.com

Bertie and all the pond life would like to wish you a very merry Christmas!

(Jazzy God Rest You Merry Gentlemen licensed from Premium Beat)

Download the audio

Natasha and Richard team up to tell us an epic Bertie story that takes us all the way across Russia to Mongolia on the Trans-Siberian Train. Like the journey itself, this is a lovely long story, so find time sit back and listen to it…. perhaps on a train journey !

You can read Natasha’s thoughts on this story here.

The Tsar of Russia gave Bertie’s great, Great Uncle Rudolf a Faberge Egg, one Easter over 100 years ago. The egg was lost in the Russian Revolution. Bertie travels to Siberia to recover it. On the way he meets a mysterious Mongolian Princess called Toragana.

You can find out more about the Trans Siberian Railway at the joint Google Maps and Russian Railways project.

Lake Baikal from the window of the Train can be seen in the video.

Read by Natasha and Richard. Story by Bertie. Duration minutes.

Did you scoff any scrummy Easter Eggs this year?   I bet you did.  Well this story is about a very special egg, but it isn’t one that you can eat.

Richard,  can you describe it for us?

Yes, certainly.   This precious egg is made out of  blue enamel and gold, and it’s studded with diamonds.   It stands on four legs, and has wavy patterns all round it.  A sort of crown sits on top of it, but not a normal crown, because it’s in the form of a skateboard.  And  If you know anything about exclusive and expensive eggs, you will realise that I’m talking about a Faberge Egg,  made by the French jeweller of that name.  Over 100 years ago, the Tsar of Russia gave it as  a very special Easter Present to Bertie’s Great, Great Uncle, Prince Rudolf,  the inventor of the Skateboard.

A sad story came down through Prince Bertie’s family that Prince Rudolf lost this fabulous egg after he left it under his seat at the theatre.   When the Wicked Queen heard the family legend, she muttered to herself,

“Well now we know why Bertie’s such a nincompoop.  It runs in the family.”

History tells us,  that in the year 1917, the Russian royal family  suddenly became quite unpopular, and those who could, left the country in rather a rush.   Prince Rudolf   took  a train along along the Trans-Siberian railway and escaped into China.   From there he made his way to the South of France where he lived out his days in a palace. Like Bertie,  he loved telling stories,  and he wrote down the tale of his escape from Russia in a diary.   For many years, this diary lay in a box in an attic, until one day Bertie’s aunt sent it too him along with a key on a gold chain.    For a whole week,  Bertie took Prince Rudolf’s story  around with him, reading it in every spare moment,  even when he was walking down the corridors of the palace.  That was how he bumped, quite literally, into the Wicked Queen.

“Why do you waste your time with stupid stories,?”  hissed the Queen, “Why don’t you join the real world and do something useful like make some money?”

“I”m enriching my mind,”  replied Bertie.  “And this book has a wealth of information in it,  including the secret of what Prince Rudolf really did with his Faberge egg.   I  now know where he hid it,  which is something you don’t know, so there.”

“I’ll believe that when you show it to me,”  retorted the Queen.   

“Well I shall find it,” said Bertie. “You wait and see.”

So now you know all about Bertie’s Great great uncle Rudolf and his very special Faberge egg, sit back and listen to the Story of  Bertie in Siberia.

In the month of May,  a grey taxi dropped Bertie off at  Yaroslavsky station in Moscow.   Prince Rudolf had departed from that same station when he had escaped from the Revolution.   His diary described how crowds of  refugees  were camping on the concourse,  all hoping to get a place on a train.   They made the station their home, and some  even kept chickens with them, and made camp fires on the platform.

Rudolf was one of the lucky ones.  He managed to hop onto a luggage wagon just as a train was moving off.  

When Bertie arrived at the station, quite a few down-and-outs were still living on the concourse,  and  plenty of people, Russian, Mongolian, Chinese,   sat on piles of luggage looking like they had been there a long time.   Loud Russian pop music blared out of speakers.   There was a lively trade in CDs,  dubious meat pies, and various drinks.   It was more like a bazaar than a station.

He went into the grand vaulted ticket office and joined one of the snaking queues.  After quite a wait he spoke to a ticket seller through a little window.  “Nyet, nyet,” she said, which is Russian for “no, no.”  Bertie walked into the main part of  the station feeling rather low.  He wondered if he should try and hop onto a moving train like Prince Rudolf had done, but he thought that sounded a little dangerous.    As he was gazing up at the neon time table, all written in Russian letters,  a lady with gold teeth tried to sell him a bunch of roses.  

“I want a ticket, not flowers,”  said Bertie to the lady who could not understand a word he was saying.  And then he had an idea.   “Actually, I’ll take three bunches, a red one, a white one, and a yellow one, “  and he handed her some Russian money, roubles,   in return for  the bouquet.  Now Bertie queued up again for a ticket, and this time, when he reached the ticket window, he pushed the bunch of roses through the little window.    As he had hoped, the ticket-selling lady was enchanted  enough by the gallant gesture to suddenly discover that there was indeed one last place left on the train,  a berth in first class.  

All the other passengers  seemed to have so much more luggage than Bertie.  Some were passing suitcases through the windows.  He was glad that he had a first class ticket, or else he might end up sleeping on a pile of  luggage.   He boarded the train, and found his compartment down the corridor,  number 16.     He slid open the door and saw a little room about the size of an airing cupboard.  There were two beds on either side of a narrow table.  On one of the beds sat a young woman with long silky black hair and Eastern features.   She was wearing a black silk shirt with a gold pattern embroidered on it, and she was passing the time by painting her nails blood red.  

“Oh, er, sorry, I must have the wrong compartment…..” but after checking his tickets he realised that this was the right compartment after all,  and although it First Class, it was rather small, and had to be shared with another passenger.  

“I wonder what the third class is like?” thought Bertie.   And then he remembered Uncle Rudolf in the luggage wagon.    But as for his travelling companion, he could have ended up with a much much worse one.

Bertie stored his rucksack under the bed,  sat down, and introduced himself.  

“Hello, I’m  Prince Bertie,”  And then, looking at the  exotic raven-haired person opposite, he blushed and added hastily,  “I’m engaged to the lovely Princess Beatrice, but unfortunately she wasn’t able to come with me on this trip.”

The young woman lifted up her long eyelashes and replied:  “And my name is Toragana,  Princess Toragana,  and when I arrive back at my home in Mongolia,  I will soon be married.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t know Mongolia had a royal family,”  admitted Bertie.

“I’m a direct descendant of Genghis Khan,”  replied, the Princess, “You’ve heard of him I suppose?”

“Ah yes,  I’ve heard of him alright, he conquered half the world.”

“Precisely,”  said Toragana.   “And I know all about you.  There are pictures of your lovely girlfriend in this week’s  Tallyho Magazine. “  And she showed Bertie a glossy photo-feature about Beatrice opening a sanctuary for lost donkeys.

“That’s so like Beatrice, always doing something kind,” said Bertie.   Toragana looked somewhat puzzled at the picture of  the princess  hand-feeding a beetroot  to the donkey.  

Half an hour later, the train heaved and jolted,  and they moved at a snail’s pace out of the station.   The trans-Siberian journey had begun.  There was only another 8 days and 6000 miles to go before the train would reach Beijing.  

There were few luxuries on board.  The purser brought round little glasses of tea,  and if you wanted, you could fetch  hot water from the Russian kettle, called the, samovar at the end of  the corridor.   Toragana ate pot noodles and salami which she shared with Bertie.  In return, he gave her some of  his special peach-scented chocolate.   They caught sight of the white walls of Danilov Monastery,  and  from then on watched millions of silver birch trees roll past their window at 40 miles per hour.

About once a day they would cross a great bridge spanning a wide river, and that usually meant that they were not far from a town.    It was always a great relief to stop at station for half an hour or so,  to stretch their legs on  the platform, and to buy cabbage pies or hard boiled eggs from the traders at the station.  Bertie learned to love a refreshing Russian drink called Kvass.   Most of the other passengers preferred to wash down their food with vodka.

There was plenty of time  for Bertie and Toragana to tell each other stories about their lives and their fiances, and they discovered that they both liked travel and adventure.  But Toragana’s recent business in Moscow had not gone well.  She had gone there to choose some jewellery for her wedding,  and she had found the most beautiful diamond tiara.    Unfortunately,  when she wanted to pay for it, the manager of the shop said that all the US dollars she had brought in her suitcase were forgeries.  

“It was quite embarrassing,” she said.  “Each and everyone of them had the same serial number.    I think my father must have been cheated when he sold his country house to a Russian businessman.”

Bertie sympathised, and he felt sorry that he would not be travelling all the way to Mongolia with Toragana,  because he had never met anyone quite like her.  But he explained that  he had to stop off at the City of Yekaterinburg on  family business.

“I know,” said Toragana softly.   And Bertie wondered exactly what it was that she knew.

The train gently climbed through the Ural mountains, and several days after leaving Moscow they arrived at Yekaterinburg,  a city named after Catherine the Great,  and infamous as the place where the Tsar and his family met their untimely ends.

 On the platform,   Princess Toragana offered her hand to Bertie, perhaps meaning him to kiss it farewell, but he gave it a formal shake.   

Outside the station, he found a roguish taxi man called Kolya, and hired him to be his driver and helper for the next couple of days.   Kolya did not speak English, and Bertie did not speak Russian, but somehow they understood each other perfectly.   Kolya found Bertie a room in a comfortable hotel,  and later on drove him to the address of  Prince Rudolf’s Mansion.   Bertie feared that the street name would have changed, or that the palace would have been knocked down and replaced by an office block or  a factory, but it stood exactly where it always had done, in a tree-lined street behind the blue Cathedral.   It was almost exactly how Rudolf had described in his diary –  a gate guarded by stone  lion heads,  a path through a small garden,  a porch supported by pillars, the tops of which were the carved heads of  maidens.    The only sign of modernity was a big blue sign on the door, and a security camera sitting on top of one of the lion’s heads.  

“What is it?” said Bertie to Kolya with a questioning shrug.   Kolya understood and replied “Bonk”  which Bertie realised must mean “Bank.”

“I see, “ said Bertie,  “Now I need to buy a spade.”  To explain this, he had to get out of the car and show Colya some shovelling motions.   The driver got out too, opened the boot,  and took out a shovel.

“Great.  We’ll come back after midnight,” said Bertie, pointing to his watch.”

Bertie went back to his hotel for a good solid sleep until the the evening.  Kolya took him to a cafe where they ate Siberian dumplings called pelmani,  and Bertie had to absolutely insist that he couldn’t drink vodka.   When it was late enough, they returned to Prince Rudolf’s Mansion.

It was a clear spring night,  and although this was the middle of town,  the scent of  lilac trees was in the air.   Bertie felt quite carefree, and not at all afraid.  Perhaps he should have been.

He wasn’t at all worried about the security camera.   He thought that if anyone could monitor it day and night they would have to have a super-human tolerance of boredom.  All the same, he threw his coat over the lens in case it might be recording anything.   Kolya took the somewhat filthy carpet off the floor of his car,  and  slung this over the wall to protect Bertie from the broken glass that was embedded along the top.  Then Kolya held his hands for  Bertie to stand in, and gave him a leg-up over the wall.  He threw the spade after him.   Bertie thought that it wasn’t the first time that Kolya had been on an operation like this.
 
He went round the side of the house, and started to dig a hole in the grass in front of the apple tree.  It was tough going, and he had to pull out several large stones.  

“I’m glad it’s not winter,” he thought, “The ground would be frozen over and as hard as rock.”

After had been digging for half an hour, and had made quite an impressive hole, he had still not found anything interesting.   He stopped to wipe his forehead.  A  soft voice said,

“Bertie,  you won’t find it there, you’re digging in the wrong place.”

“Am I hearing things?” thought Bertie.  And he looked round and saw Princess Toragana standing in the garden.

“That apple tree is too young,” she said.  “It wouldn’t have been here when Prince  Rudolf  buried his treasure box.  This is where it is.  Under my feet.”

“How do you know?” asked Bertie.

“Trust me.  I do,” she said.  “My instinct for expensive things is never wrong.”

Bertie began to work his shovel on the spot where the princess told him to dig,  and shortly before two in the morning his blade struck something hard.  It took another fifty minutes to work the box out of the ground, and Bertie was sweaty, covered in earth and out of breath, as he took out the key which was hanging around his neck.

“Do you know what’s inside?”  asked Bertie.

“Of course,” said Toragana, “It’s a very special egg.”  And although Bertie was quite mystified by how she might know this,  he said, “I do hope you are right.”

And she was.   Bertie opened the lid of the box and the diamonds on the egg sparkled in the moonlight.  

“It’s quite magical,” said Toragana.   

“Yes,” said Bertie, “And I don’t think it’s the only magic around tonight.  How come you’re here, and how do you know about this?”

“I can read minds,” said the Princess.  

“You read my book, more like,” said Bertie.  “You must have been thumbing through Uncle Rudolf’s diary while I was down the corridor in the train.  You’re a fast reader, though, I’ll give you that.”

“That’s not true,” said Toragana,  sounding quite insulted, “I read people’s minds.  I can’t help it.  I just hear everyone thoughts.  Believe me, it’s pretty boring listening to your brain harping on about the lovely princess Beatrice and all her kind deeds.   But I caught what you were planning  to do, and I thought I had better come along and help you.   You have to admit, if I wasn’t here, you’d still be breaking your back digging under the wrong tree.”

“Well thank you,” said Bertie, because he realised it would be graceless not to say that.

The following day, Bertie and Princess Toragana once again boarded a train heading across Siberia,  for Mongolia and China.

Bertie sat on the bed and hugged his rucksack which contained the precious egg.  Toragana said:  “Why don’t you sit on your egg like a hen?”  And Bertie laughed.  

“I was just thinking,” he said, “how almost 100 years ago,  my great, great uncle, Prince Rudolf came this way.  It was in the chaos of  revolution, and there were so many robbers and bandits around, that he thought it was too dangerous to take the egg with him any further.  That’s why he stopped off in Yekaterinburg, and buried it in the garden of his house there.  He thought that the Revolution wouldn’t last, and that one day he would be back one day to fetch it.”

“Oh come on, let’s look at it,” pleaded Toragana,  and Bertie first made sure that the door was bolted, and then opened up the rucksack.  Soon he was holding the precious object in his hands.  He brushed his finger over the smooth enamel dome of the  egg, and felt the sharp corners of the golden skateboard that was mounted on top of it.

“Why don’t you open it and see what’s inside?”  asked Toragana.

“What do you mean?” said Bertie.

“Give it to me, silly,  I’ll show you.”

Bertie let the princess carefully take the egg, and watched as she deftly opened it into two parts on a concealed hinge.   Inside was a nest of old Russian newspaper. Toragana carefully unfolded it, trying not to get news ink on her elegant fingers.  In center of it all, she found a small stone.

“What do you think it is?”  asked Bertie.

The Princess rolled her hazel eyes up to the ceiling, “Pa !”  she exclaimed, “Don’t you know a diamond when you see one?”

“It doesn’t look very big,” said Bertie.

“It would be a small pebble, but it’s a huge diamond.  About 15 carats. It must be worth a fortune.”

“Well, That ‘s a bonus,” said Bertie. “I’ll get it polished up and set in a ring for Beatrice when I get back.”

“Lucky girl,” commented Toragana.

And the train rattled on across the great expanse of Siberia, and yellow-green fields that stretched as far as the horizon.  Only occasionally did they see a wooden village on a hill, looking like a set of dolls’ houses,  or a solitary human being dwarfed to insignificance by nature’s vast emptiness.

Bertie could not help looking upon his beautiful and exotic travelling companion rather differently now:

“I wonder if she’s a spy, whose she’s been sent to follow me,” he thought.

Toragana said:

“No Bertie.  I”m not a spy. ”  And that somewhat spooked Bertie out, because he hadn’t said anything aloud.

“I’d better be careful what I think about,” thought Bertie.

“Yes, you should,” said Toragana.

When Bertie had to leave the coupe to go down the corridor to the loo,  he said to Taragana  “I suppose I don’t have to mention this, because you probably know what I’m thinking,  but please don’t go anywhere while I’m away because I’d like you to watch my luggage, if  that’s okay.”

And Princess Toragana said:  “Well I am hardly going to go for a bicycle ride.”

After the city of Irkusk,  the Russian taiga set in – dark impenetrable forest on either  side of the track.   When Bertie was out in the corridor, he caught his first glimpse of Lake Baikal shimmering through the trees – a fresh water lake the size of Belgium, and yet little more than a blue dot on the map of Siberia.

As the lake was on the other side of the train from the their compartment, Bertie and the Princess had to stand in the corridor to watch the scenery.  He firmly closed the door behind them, so that he would hear if anybody tried to sneak through it.  

The narrow corridor was full of passengers who had come out to see the views.  Two Chinese ladies sang sweetly to pass the time.  Toragana said that they were taking poodles to Beijing, where dogs were illegal, but very prized and expensive.  Indeed, the Princess seemed to know what everyone was up to.  Three Ukrainian businessmen, who held glasses of vodka, were on their way to China to buy fake designer goods to sell in Moscow.   Some Mongolian youths were returning home from University, but they hadn’t really been studying, only having a good time and trading in sable furs.

The train began to snake around the very edge of the water.  Fishermen sat on the stony shore.  They were so close, that Bertie longed to get out and throw a few pebbles into the lake.  Mists rose and twisted above the mountains on the far side.  A factory puffed less welcome smoke from a peninsular.

They entered a tunnel of trees and Bertie thought, “Is that it?”  and turned back to lie down.  “Look now,” said Toragana,  and Bertie did.  Lake Baikal reached out as far as the late afternoon sun. The water was pure and white and smooth as a vast paving stone.  Over the next few hours, the sun eased lower, and yellows and oranges swirled across the lake like some primeval chemistry experiment.    Bertie could imagine dinosaurs sticking their heads out of the waters,  or  flying space ships landing on its surface.

The last stretch of Russia was covered in desolate moors.   Toragana asked Bertie how he planned to smuggle the egg through customs, because the Russian authorities might not take too kindly to him taking an expensive antique out of the country.

“I don’t have to smuggle anything,” said Bertie,  “I have a diplomatic passport.  They can’t search my bags.”

Toragana gave Bertie the look which he understood by now to mean that he was a total innocent who didn’t know anything about anything.
 
“You will find that everyone on this train has a green diplomatic passport, “ she said. “They sell them in Moscow at the Ministry of Foreign affairs.  The Russian border guards will take no notice of them, and treat you like anybody else.  I’m afraid they will confiscate your egg and throw you in gaol.”

“Oh, dear,” said Bertie.  “What do you think I should do?”

“Give it to me,” she said.  “I will hide it under my coat.  If anybody asks, I shall say that I am going to have a baby.”

“Well I might do the same and say that I eat too much chocolate,” said Bertie.  In any case, he opened up the bed and took out his rucksack, but the strange thing was, it didn’t feel heavy enough. He began to feel a sudden panic.  And yes, when he opened up the rucksack his worst fear was realised .

“The egg’s gone. How can that be?”  he asked gazing accusingly at the Princess.

“Well don’t look at me like that,” said Toragana, “I didn’t take it.  Perhaps somebody sneaked in while we were asleep, or while you were gawping at the lake.

“You were looking at the lake with me,” said Bertie, before adding, “most of the time.

“Yes, but it’s not my egg,” said the Princess,  and “And the diamond is for your lovely Beatrice.  I It was your business to look after it, not mine. But if you like, I’ll help you find it.   I can read minds, remember.  It won’t take me long to listen into the wicked thoughts of  everyone in this carriage, and I’ll find out where it is for you . ”

“Well, it would be great if you could find it,” said Bertie.  And the Mongolian Princess went out into the corridor and passed slowly along, scanning her hand over each door, and clearly concentrating hard.  She passed the Ukrainian businessmen, the Mongolian students, and the Chinese dog-lovers.

“Have you found it yet?”  asked Bertie, when she was nearly at the end.

“Let me concentrate,” she replied testily.  

“Well,” said Bertie when she had reached the final door.

“The train guard has got it,” she said.  “She knows how to smuggle it out of the country.  She has an arrangement with border police.  Let her take it, and we’ll get it back on the other side.”

And Bertie agreed that it was the best plan.   He wondered if he could trust Toragana,  but he tried not to wonder too much in case she was reading his thoughts.

When they finally reached the border with Mongolia, all the passengers had to get off the train while the customs  searched for hours, inside, underneath and on top of the train.   It was only the next morning that they finally rolled into Mongolia.  Around midmorning,  the Princess slipped out of the compartment.  She returned a few minutes later with something under her coat.   It was the Faberge Egg which she said she had retrieved from a hiding place in the Guard’s Room.

Bertie had no idea whether or not he should believe this mysterious Mongolian, but he was relieved that Uncle Rudolf’s egg was safe.   He checked inside and found the diamond too.

“I thought perhaps it was jinxed,” he said to Toragana.  “That maybe it just wasn’t its destiny to leave Russia.  Thank you again for your help.

Bertie planned to travel on to Beijing, just as his Great Great  Uncle Rudolf had done.   From there, he planned to fly home.  

“Have you ever seen a country as beautiful as this? asked Toragana   You must come and see where I live with my parents.”

Bertie looked out of the window and saw that the countryside was vast and green, tangled, and wild.  The blue sky was simply enormous.  He had to admit that it did look extraordinarily beautiful.

“Won’t your fiance mind if you bring home a strange prince?” he asked.

“Oh, no, he’s far far away,”  said  Toragana…. “In fact, he’s in quite another world.”

And so Bertie agreed to break his journey in Mongolia.  It would make his adventure that much more interesting.

When they reached Ulan Bator, which is the capital of Mongolia, they stepped down onto the platform on legs that were quite wobbly after   so much sitting down. Toragana was met at the station by a driver who worked for her family.  His four-wheel-drive was large and glistening sliver, of a make that Bertie had not seen before. He thought that perhaps it might be Chinese.  Bertie sat in the back of the car, and soon they were out of the city.   

They drove, and they drove, and they drove.  They drove over the rolling steppe, and into the Gobi Desert.   They drove through the day, and they drove through the night, and they drove  through the next day, and although the road was rough – in fact you could barely call it a road – the car was so comfortable that you could hardly feel any bumps.  The scenery was expansive.  Occasionally they saw dusty Mongolian horsemen,  and families living in pointed tents called yurts.   They stopped every now and then to stock up on water and fermented mare’s milk which Bertie thought quite disgusting.   The driver played loud Mongolian pop music on the car’s stereo.  In short, it was tedium.  

Finally Toragana said:  “You can wake up now, Bertie, because we have arrived.”

He opened his eyes, not knowing quite what to expect,  a tent or a palace.  But it was neither.   It was the middle of the Gobi desert.  It was hundreds of miles from anywhere.  There was not even a horse or a sheep in sight.  All there was to see was the vast blue sky and a steel structure that was quite spherical like a flying saucer.

“If you don’t mind me saying so,” said Bertie, “It’s quite an unusual building in quite an unusual spot.”

“Why don’t you get out and take a closer look,” said Toragana.  And Bertie did.  He walked all round the building –  it somehow seemed much bigger that way than when he first saw it from the car.    There were no windows, and he couldn’t find a door.  

“How do you get in?” he asked.   

“Like this,” said Toragana.   And she waved her arm.   A doorway opened up in the side and a flight of steps slid down to the ground.

“After you,” said the Princess.   And Bertie mounted the steps.   Inside he found a perfectly cool round living room, with large cushions to sit on.  All around were screens showing various scenes, such as the desert immediately outside,  cities like New York and Paris,  the world taken from space,  and yet more screens showing the stars.

“It’s almost like a flying saucer,” said Bertie.

And Toragana looked at him with her head on one side:

“Are all human princes so slow to catch on?  This is a flying saucer, you dummy. “

“Oh,” said Bertie, “And are you going to kidnap me and take me to another world?”

“No”, she said, “My fiance really wouldn’t like that.  I’ve brought you here to ask you a very special favour.   You see I was on holiday with my parents,  and we were travelling across your solar system when we ran into engine trouble.  We had to crash land on Earth, and the Gobi desert was the most out-of-the-way spot we could find to park.”

“Well I don’t suppose you’ll pick up a parking ticket here,” said Bertie.

“We need to replace the diamond in the main forward thrust.  That’s why I went to Moscow to buy one.  Only the money we printed off did not pass inspection for the real stuff.  Human technology was not quite so dumb as we thought.”“

“We came across counting a while ago,” said Bertie

The alien came over to Bertie and held both his hands.  She looked into his eyes to make her appeal:

“And now I really need to get back to my planet or I will miss my own wedding and that will be just too embarrassing.  I’m not really a princess, but I am about to marry a prince and become one.  If I miss an opportunity like that, I’ll never forgive myself. “

“So what you are saying, “ said Bertie, “Is that you want my diamond.”

“Oh I knew that you would understand. You love your dear Beatrice so much. Just think how you would feel if she disappeared off the face of the earth just before your wedding.  That’s how my dear prince will feel if I can’t make it back in time….. or , indeed, ever…”

And although Bertie had been meaning to give the diamond as a special present to Beatrice, he also knew in his heart that she would want Toragana to get back to her planet in time for her wedding.

“Alright then”,  said Bertie, “You can have the diamond on one condition.  You give me a ride in your flying saucer and drop me off somewhere near my palace.   I’ve never flown in a saucer before, and besides, I’m fed up with all this overland travel. “

And perhaps Bertie would have said that the trip of his life was on the Trans-Siberian train, but only there was one ride that topped that altogether – Toragana whizzed him to Mars and back, and took him four time around the moon, before gently touching down in the  garden behind the palace.  

Before going to bed,  Bertie took the Easter Egg out of his rucksack and placed it in the centre of the dining room table, so that the Wicked Queen would see it when she came down to breakfast,  and she would know that Bertie and his Great, Great Uncle Rudolf weren’t such nincompoops after all.   It was a shame that he did not have a diamond to place beside Beatrice’s plate but he did at least have an amazing story to tell her.

And that’s the story of Bertie in Siberia.   Wow, it was a long one, and well done for listening to the end.  Did you guess that Toragana was an alien, Richard?

“No, I must admit that I didn’t see that coming”….

And neither did Bertie…..

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You will hear some history and a good yarn in this story, which is largely set on the Greek Island of Crete. The island which is now a popular holiday destination was the scene of a World War II Battle in 1941. Bertie hears the story from an old general. Then he manages to connect up the past with the present.

Prince Bertie can sometimes be rather spoilt and rude. I am sorry to say it, but it’s true. But deep down, he has a very good heart, as this touching story shows.

And we will let you into a secret – the plot about finding an old war comrade is based on a true story.

Read by Natasha. Duration 23 minutes. Story by Bertie.

Hello this is Natasha and I’m dropping by with a rather special story that I picked up from the pond where Prince Bertie the frog lives. Just recently, as I was sitting dangling my feet in the cool water, I overheard Tim the Tadpole ask Bertie if he had ever been in the army when he was a human prince.

“Oh no,” said Bertie. “I never went in for all that spit and polish, marching up and down, shouldering arms sort of stuff. In any case, I was always rather a peace-loving prince.”

Tim hung his little pin-sized head looking rather disappointed. “Oh” he said. “You see, I was hoping that you could tell me some exciting stories about fighting in battles and stuff.”

Bertie thought hard and mused:

“My stories aren’t really about fighting. But come to think of it. I did once make friends with an old army general. Shall I tell you about him?”

“Oh yes please,” begged Tim.

And all the pond life, whether they be scaly, feathery, or just plain slimy, gathered around to hear the story of how Bertie met the General. And if you like history, then I think there’s a good chance that you will enjoy it too.

It all began one evening, when Bertie was in his room at the top of the north tower in the palace, practising his electric guitar. He had a small amplifier, but he turned it up to full volume so that it jumped up and down across the room as he thrashed out chords and played string bending solos.

[play up solo guitar music] .

Perhaps Bertie wasn’t the world’s finest musician, but in his imagination he was on stage before an entire stadium packed with adoring fans. It was only when he paused for breath that he heard a loud drumming on his door.

“I expect that’s Beatrice,” he thought. “she’s loving my music.”

But as it turned out, his visitor was a rather grumpy old gentleman. He wasn’t very tall, and he was slightly built – almost like a boy – but he had a straight back and piercing blue eyes. He wore a brass-buttoned blazer, trousers with perfect creases, and shiny black shoes. He said:

“Will you kindly turn that racket down? I’m at the other end of the palace and I can’t hear myself think.”

“Er sorry,” said Bertie. And he decided to unplug his guitar and sit down to write a letter to Beatrice Although he saw the princess every day, he liked to send her stories and poems.

It was only when the gentleman had gone, that Bertie thought “Funny, I’ve never seen that old geezer before. I wonder who he is and what he’s doing in the palace?”

He didn’t give the matter any more thought until the following weekend. Bertie and Princess Beatrice were roller-blading in the park. Beatrice skated like a ballet dancer, doing pretty pirouettes and weaving elegantly between paper cups placed in a row on the ground. Bertie’s style was more like a hockey player , swishing from side to side as he gathered breakneck speed and scattered walkers and their dogs out of his way. Local kids hung out with them and they exchanged moves and tricks. I don’t think any of them realised that Bertie and Beatrice were prince and princess.

Bertie was doing the return loop on one of his high speed runs when a figure stepped out waving a stick at him. Bertie had to swerve to miss the man, and he turned round to give him a piece of his mind.

“Hey you nearly caused an accident,” he called out. And then he noticed that it was the same old man who had asked him to turn down his guitar. “You again!” he exclaimed. “Are you haunting me or what?”

And the old man replied.

“Mind your lip young fellow. It’s you that nearly caused an accident with your speeding along the public footpath.”

Now sometimes Bertie can be a bit hot-tempered. This was one of those occasions. His fury took control of his tongue and he said some things that he really shouldn’t have said like:

“You silly old fool. You should get out of the way of those who are younger and better, or you shouldn’t complain when you get squashed. “

The old gentleman wasn’t standing for language like this. His eye was twitching with uncontrollable emotion:

“Do you know who I am? I”m General Mike “Killer” Rogers – there you didn’t know that did you? See that ribbon. That’s a medal, boy. The King’s father pinned that on my chest in 1945 for actions beyond the call of duty in the face of the enemy. I’m not scared of a young punk like you.”

“P-punk?” stuttered Bertie. “I’ll have you know the King is my father. I’m Prince Bertie. And you might have been a solider once, but now you’re just a historical relic. You should be in a museum. That’s where you belong.”

“Well if the King’s your father, then I’m going to see him right away and tell him that his son needs to learn some manners!”

And the general marched briskly off in the direction of the palace. The other kids crowded round and said things like “cool man,” and “are you really Prince Bertie?” Only Beatrice hung back and didn’t look at all pleased. She was still wearing a frown as they sat down to unlace their roller blade boots.

“What’s up with you?” asked Bertie in a tetchy voice, and the Princess replied:

“You were really rude to that old man. I was quite embarrassed. You might be a prince, Bertie, but you should still show respect to elders, especially a brave old soldier. “

And Bertie felt quite ashamed, because he realised that Beatrice was right. He had been rude because he had lost his temper.

Back at the palace, Bertie made some enquires and found at that the old man was not only a general, but a national hero, and had been decorated not just once, but many times for bravery. He was 90 years old, and after his wife had died, the King gave him a room in the palace. It was called a ‘grace and favour’ apartment, and only those who had performed great service to their country could receive one of them.

Bertie, with some trepidation in his heart, went to knock on the general’s door. He found himself looking straight into the old man’s piercing blue gaze. It was rather scary, but Bertie worked up the courage to say:

“Sir, I’ve come to apologise. I’m sorry that I was rude, and I promise to try harder to control my temper in future.’

The general looked him up and down, like he was inspecting him on parade. Eventually he said: .

“Boy. A gracious apology deserves and gracious acceptance. Let’s be friends. Come in and sit down. Cup of tea? The kettle’s just brewing up.”

What Bertie really wanted to do, was to get away as fast as possible. He thought he would go and tell Beatrice that he had apologised and then all would be OK again with the princess. They could spend the evening swapping mp3s. But then, he felt he had to do as the old man asked, or risk being rude again. So he stepped inside..

The walls of the general’s apartment were covered with military prints of soldiers with twirly whiskers and warlike faces, wearing red jackets and tall bearskin hats. Some were standing on parade, others riding prancing horses.

“That’s my regiment, the King’s Own 7th Hussars,” said the general proudly. “We saw off Napoleon – not me personally of course – even I’m not that old. But it’s history that holds a regiment together and gives it pride. Remember that young man. Respect the past and the future will be kind to you.

“ History is my favourite subject,” said Bertie. “I expect you’ve made a bit of it yourself. Would you mind telling me how you won that medal that you mentioned?’

The general waved his hand, and blushed almost like a girl.
“Oh that was nothing really. Just a small spot of bother with a machine gun nest. “

Bertie judged that the General did not really want to talk about that incident, ‘You must have been jolly brave all the same… ‘ he said. ‘ And who might this be? ” He had picked up an old photograph in a silver frame. It showed a ferocious looking warrior dressed in somewhat Eastern clothes, with baggy trousers, a black tasselled headscarf, and a wide silk belt with various exotic and antique weapons tucked into it. He held a rifle fixed with a long bayonet. A strap of bullets was slung diagonally over his chest.

“Him? Why – that’s Aleko Kostakis- the best friend I ever had,” said the general. Bertie was amazed that the general had known a man like that, because the photograph looked at least a hundred years old, and he asked him to tell the tale. This was a yarn that the old man was more than happy to spin. Bertie could see that once he had got the old man reminiscing, he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. He settled into his armchair and dunked his biscuit into his tea. The old general began:

“It was World War Two, 1941; the battle for Crete, an island in the Mediterranean sea, south of Greece. It was , indeed, the biggest shambles I ever took part in. Our top generals got their wires completely crossed, and in a right old tangle. Thousands of German soldiers landed by parachute. For a day we fought them off. Cretan villagers piled in, attacking the enemy with pitch folks and ancient Turkish muskets. But then it was us who were on the run. Chaos was the order of the day. The Allies were scrambling onto boats while being strafed from the air. Mortar shells were landing all over the place. My orders were to remain behind with my men and hold off the enemy as long as we could. Someone had to do it, to give the others a chance to get away, and my company drew the short straw. When the last boat was gone, I headed for the mountains.

“ I staggered on up a rocky ravine, heading for the snow-capped peaks. The way up was steep and the sun was blistering hot. I thought I might very well die of thirst , and finally I was rewarded by the sweet gurgling of a mountain stream. I sat down and scooped up the cool water in my hands. Just as I was rejoicing in this gift of life, I heard a man’s voice behind me. Unfortunately, he was speaking in German. I turned round, and found myself looking into the barrel of a rifle. I slowly lifted my hands above my head. The German solider called for his friends, but as he was shouting, a bullet whistled between us and smacked into the ground. Luckily for me, the Jerry’s first instinct was to dive for cover behind a tree. I ran across the stream and hid myself among some boulders. The unseen sniper kept the enemy pinned down, until darkness fell, and they slipped away. It was only then that I met the man who had saved me.

“You’ve seen his picture. He looked even more exotic by the light of the moon – like something out of a poem by Lord Byron. The Turks had ruled Crete for a long while, and they had left their Eastern influence on the what passed for the local fashion. I held out my hand to shake his, and he embraced me like a long lost friend and gave me a bristly kiss on either cheek. He led me back to his village. Although it was dark, he sprang his way across the slopes like a mountain goat. I spent all the next day sleeping on the floor of his family house. Aleko’s mother boiled goat’s meat in my honour. It was probably the worst tasting food that I have ever eaten in my life – but I was truly grateful for it. It was too dangerous to remain in the village, and after dark , Aleko led me – now dressed in Cretan clothes like his own – to a cave. This hideout was my home for the next six months. Each day, Aleko brought me food and wine, gave me some words of Greek, and taught me to dance in the Cretan style. He played a shepherd’s lyre and sang ballads celebrating Crete’s greatest robbers and brigands. I think some of them had hidden out in that very same cave. He called me by the Greek name Mikhalis.

“War is an ugly thing. It’s mostly about hatred and killing, but it’s also the time when you make the closest friends of your life. A soldier truly loves his comrades-in-arms, Bertie. That’s what danger does. It brings you together.”

The old general paused to wipe a tear from his blue eye before he finished his story.

“Later that year ,the Allies started to infiltrate agents back onto the island. Eventually they got me off on a boat back to Cairo.”

Bertie is a bit of a connoisseur of stories, but he had never before heard an account from an old solider who had actually taken part in a war . It was like meeting somebody out of the pages of a history book.

“And what became of Aleko?” he asked. The old man sighed.

“He sent me this picture after the war, but I’m afraid the years went by, and we lost contact. Now I’m an old man left alone with my regrets, and one of them is that I did not make more of an effort to keep in touch. I expect he’s dead now, like the best of them.”

That night when Bertie was lying in bed, he wondered what it would feel like to be a young man sent into war, chaos, and danger. He thought how precious friends were, and how important it was to keep track of them as the years went by. He played back the general’s words in his head: “he’s probably dead now”. As he did so, he remembered something that he had once read – that although the people of Crete drink, smoke, and drive more recklessly than anyone else in Europe – they also live the longest. The secret of their longevity is a mystery. Some say it’s the clean mountain air. Some say it’s the water. Still others say it’s because they eat a fish oil called omega three. But whatever the reason, it occurred to Bertie that Aleko might well live to be 100.

At the start of the long vacation, Bertie packed his rucksack and flew on a plane packed with holiday makers to Crete. He took a taxi up to Aleko’s village into the mountains. Greek music blared out on the car radio as they sped round the hairpin bends, and Bertie gazed across at the steep rocky valleys, the soaring blue skies, and the mountain goats who walked almost vertically up the cliffs to nibble at scraggy shrubbery. They passed through several half-deserted villages, each one with a war memorial, until at last, high up above a ravine, they reached Aleko’s village. It was a scorchingly hot afternoon, and nobody was on the street apart from a sleepy-looking dog. The village had one shop that sold a few essentials, like Cola and sticks of chewing gum. The shop keeper spoke only Greek, but he did recognise the words ‘Aleko Costakis’.

“Rethymnon, Rethymnon,” he said. That was the name of the town where Bertie was staying. He called the taxi driver to take down an address.

Later that evening, Bertie walked up a dark staircase, and rang a rusty old door bell. A middle aged man answered. Bertie felt embarrassed.

‘Er, Aleko Costakis’, he said.

“You want to see my father?” replied the man.

“Yes, I have news of his old friend, Mike Rogers. “

“You mean Mikhalis? His old war friend? My father has spoken about him many times. Come in.”

Bertie came into the dark, cramped flat, and found an old man sitting by the chair. He didn’t look anything like as fierce as his picture, taken seventy years earlier. He had silver hair and a matching moustache. His face wore a kind smile. His great grandson was playing on the floor at his feet.

“Papa,” said the man who had opened the door. His name was Manousos. He spoke to his father in Greek. Bertie heard the word “Mikhalis” and the old man got to his feet with surprising agility. Bertie found himself engulfed in hugs and kisses, as if he himself was the long-lost friend. Manousos started to send out texts on his mobile phone. Sons and and daughters, grandsons and grand-daughters, were soon round at the little flat – and of course they brought the great grandchildren too. There was lots of chopping, stirring and cooking going on in the kitchen, and pretty soon a feast appeared on the table. Aleko brought out his shepherd’s lyre and started to play it. The family stamped their feet and clapped their hands. Neighbours came to join in. Bertie sang along as best as he could to the same songs that Aleko had taught Mikhalis during the war.

All this celebration just for the messenger from a long-lost friend! Bertie wondered if they could put on any more warmth and hospitality if Mikhalis himself was there. A month later, Bertie found out that they could. He escorted  Mikhalis – now General Mike Rogers – to Crete to be reunited with the friend he had not seen since 1941.

The old comrades recognised each other instantly. The passing years had stolen their hair and dug lines into their faces. but they were the same soldiers who now hugged one another. The smiles on their old faces were the purest expressions of delight that Bertie had ever seen.

Manousos drove them up into the mountains to rediscover their old haunts. The old comrades stooped to enter the dark cave where they had hidden out when they were both young, full of vigour, and surrounded by danger. It wasn’t the most luxurious pad on earth, but it was a home full of memories.

As they came out, they stood together in the mouth of the cave for photographs, with arms over each other’s shoulders, reunited after all those years.

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Bertie, the guiding spirit of Storynory, is a frog who likes to tell stories about the time when he was a human prince. His adventures range far and wide, and this one is no exception. We learn how when Bertie was a teenage prince, the King was afraid that he was growing into a “softy”. In order to toughen him up, he packed Bertie off to a boot camp in Scotland.

We think Bertie’s back on form with this story, and we hope that you are going to enjoy it !

Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 16.40.

When Bertie was a wee small prince his father, the King, was planning to pack him off to boarding school in Scotland. The King had been to that boarding school. And the King’s father had been to it. And his grandfather. Not to mention his great grandfather, and his great great grandfather and who had also been school captain. All of them had suffered terribly at that school, and had absolutely hated it, but naturally they sent their sons there because it was the family tradition.

But fortunately, Bertie’s mother was still alive in those days, and she said “Absolutely not”, and “Not on your nelly,” and she made the King promise never to send Bertie to boarding school. And as the King kept his promises, he didn’t, even after the Queen passed up to a higher kingdom.

And so Bertie went to the day school in the palace.

One afternoon, when Bertie was already a teenage prince, the king came to watch him play in a school soccer match. Bertie was in goal. It wasn’t his normal position, but the regular keeper was in hospital with frostbite, and Bertie was absolutely frozen.

The King thought: “My boy looks a bit pathetic hopping up and down like a rabbit on the goal line,”

When Prince Boris came running into the penalty box with the ball at his feet, the King shouted:

“Bertie, come out,” and Bertie dived towards the ball, but Boris “accidentally on purpose” kicked Bertie’s head and scored in the corner of the net, before doing a cartwheel while his father, the Grand Duke von Clutterbuck shouted, “Great shot Boris. Now put another one past that weedy keeper.”

There was a cut above Bertie’s eye and he was quite dazed. The teacher shouted:

“Play on, it’s just a scratch,”

Bertie was so dizzy that he tripped over a blade of grass and Boris easily scored a second goal. In fact, by the time of the final whistle, the score was five nil.

That evening, when the king was sitting by the fire with the wicked queen, he said:

“Do you know. I”m rather worried that Bertie’s turning out to be a bit of a softy.”

“So am I. So am I, “ sympathized the Wicked Step Mother, who was a very different character from Bertie’s real mother, and greatly regretted that Bertie wasn’t away at boarding school. She went on: “Did you hear my dear, that after your old school was closed down for cruelty to children, it reopened as an exclusive, five star, all-inclusive, boot camp? “

“A boot camp,” echoed the King. “ Do you mean it puts on lots of out healthy activities like obstacle courses, cold baths, cross country runs, that sort of thing?”

“Exactly,” said the Queen.

“Just the ticket for a boy whose going a bit soft,” agreed the King.

And so it was, with the best of intentions, the king booked Bertie into the boot camp, because of course it wasn’t boarding school – but it was the next worst thing.

It was summer in the highlands of Scotland, which meant that when it wasn’t raining, clouds of midges descended from sky and ate you alive. The water in the loch was so cold that if you went swimming in it, you would come out looking like the Loch Ness monster. The windows in the old school house were so drafty, that at night it sounded like a pack of ghosts was trying to get in.

In fact, it was just the perfect setting for an all inclusive boot camp.

And Prince Boris’s father, who liked to keep up with the latest trends in the palace, sent his son there too, which was doubly unfortunate, because, you see, Bertie couldn’t stand Boris.

The master of the camp was Major Tim Smily-Hook (retired). Major Tim, as everyone knew him, wore a black patch over one eye, and walked with a stick as a result of his various war wounds. As Major Tim sipped a mug of brick-coloured tea laced with a wee dram of whisky, he was contemplating the rare honour of a personal letter from none other than her Majesty, The Wicked Queen. It read.

Dear Major Tim,

I commend to your care my step-son, Prince Bertie. Hitherto he has led a sheltered life within the confines of our Palace. It his Majesty the King’s fear that Bertie is turning into a softy. We require a SHORT SHARP SHOCK to straighten him out. Please provide him with your FULLEST service.

Yours

Hilda HR

P.S.

Give him HELL.

Major Tim had two sorts of clients. Some were tough kids who had been in trouble with the law, and the authorities sent them to his camp to see if a taste of the outdoors would sort them out.

Others were from rich families, and had parents like fashion designers, celebrity chefs, and retired rock stars. Normally Major Tim mixed his clients together so that they got to know people from different backgrounds. But this time he decided to do things a bit differently, as Prince Bertie discovered when he arrived the next day.

“Hi there. I’m Prince Bertie,” said our hero, as he threw his rucksack onto to a metal bunk bed.

A boy with an extremely short haircut stared at him as if he was an alien from out of space. He jabbed a finger in the direction of Bertie and said:

“Did I ken ye right? Your first name is Prince?”

“Ah actually no. My first name is Bertie. I’m a Prince. But you can call me just Bertie,”

“I’ll call you what I like. Do ye ken?”

“Ah, yes. I think I do.”

“And my name is Hans,” said a tall boy with a strong German accent. And and I will call you Prince Scum because that is a name that I like very much, HA ! “

And half a dozen voices laughed and said “Good one Hans !” because all the others in the group were tough kids, and they didn’t have a very high regard for princes.

When Bertie went out of the dorm to go to the bathroom, he wisely stopped outside the door and listened to what the boys inside were saying about him. He heard Hans’s voice.

“I have a funny joke. In the middle of the night we will tie Prince Scum to the bed with a climbing rope, and shave off all his hair.”

There was general laughter around the room, because everyone clearly thought that would be a jolly funny joke.

And so Bertie went to the store room and found a cricket bat. On his return he climbed up onto his bunk bed with the bat and let it be known that if anyone came near him in the night, they would receive a Six. And although none of the boys played cricket they understood that a Six with a cricket bat would probably hurt quite a lot, and they forgot their plan to tie him to the bed, and went to sleep.

The following morning in the dining hall, as the newcomers to the boot camp tried to eat the world’s lumpiest porridge and the coldest hardest, toast, Boris spotted his fellow prince and called out:

“Hey Bertie. I hear you didn’t sleep much last night,”.

And there was general laughter all around the hall, because the story of Bertie and the cricket bat had already got around. It was true, he hadn’t been able to sleep much, as he was on the look out for attackers all night long.

Over the following two weeks they tried all sorts of new activities such as a canoeing expedition on Loch Gorm, during which Bertie capsized dozens of times and was soaked through for two whole days; climbing, in which Bertie found that he could cling to the tiniest of pimples on the rock face of a mountain , and somehow scramble up an impossible cliff with a looping overhang at the top,; abseiling down a rope from a terrifying height; endless hikes up mountains through the drizzle and mist, during which Bertie somehow managed to appreciate the beauty of Scotland. He thought it quite remarkable that if you arrange rocks, thistles, mists and gushing streams in just the right fashion, they become stunningly attractive to the eye. It was just a pity about the rain and the biting attacks by flying insects, which the Scottish lads called “wee beasties”.

But a greater torment than the “wee beasties”, the boys from Hamburg and Glasgow, still made it clear that they didn’t think much of princes whose fathers paid for them to come on all inclusive boot camps.

He shared his supply of chocolate, which softened their attitude a little bit. He stood up to Hans, who threated to punch him, and then backed off. That won him a little respect. But as they approached the end of the boot camp. Bertie had still not made any friends. He didn’t feel miserable. Two weeks of wet and cold had made him indifferent to almost everything.

Captain Tim wondered if he had given Bertie a hard enough time to satisfy the Wicked Queen. He concluded:

“Probably not. He’s not cracked a bit. The young prince has had it way too easy.”

And so for the grand finale to the boot camp he thought up a new activity that he was certain would sort Bertie out. It was a game of hide and seek, only with a few original twists.

Boris lead a group of seekers. Bertie lead a group of hiders. The major borrowed a pack of hunting dogs.

“Right now Boris. Here’s something I pinched from the laundry that will help the dogs get the scent.”

And he handed him a pair of Royal Blue y-fronts with royal crest embroidered on the hem. They could only have belonged to Prince Bertie.

“Why thanks Major Tim,” said Boris.

“‘Oh, and when you catch anyone, chuck ‘em in the coal hole for the night. “

“Right oh,” said Boris. The cole hole was a cavern beneath the school. It would make an excellent dungeon – cold, damp, dirty, and pitch black. I was said to be haunted by the ghosts of boys who had died while at the boarding school.

And Major Tim thought to himself, “Well if Bertie doesn’t go back to the Wicked Queen crying that he had the worst time of his life, then my name’s Florence Nightingale.”

As darkness fell, Bertie’s group split up and ran into the woods. Billy ran into the barn and hid in some hay stacks. Hans found a cave in some rocks. The others dug holes in the ground and covered themselves with leaves, or built shelters and disguised them with bushes. Bertie ran as far as he could. When he heard the sound of barking he thought:

“Oh oh. They’ve set the hounds on us. That’s not playing fair.”

He started to splash along a stream to put them off the scent. He thought of running across the road and hiding in the next door farm, but that was out of bounds. Then he had a better idea. He saw a branch of a tree that was overhanging the stream. He pulled himself up onto it, and started to climb upwards. He went higher and higher until he was lost among the canopies.

The dogs were all over the woods and the others were being unearthed like so many rabbits. He heard Boris shout.

“Bertie I can see you. Come out with your hands up.”

But he knew it was just a bluff because Boris was also cursing the dogs for not finding Bertie’s scent. When he had rounded up all eleven of the other group and taken them off to the coal hole, he came back again for Bertie. It was getting on for midnight. Bertie looked was growing tired clinging to a branch high up in his tree, but he listened with satisfaction as Boris led the dogs across the road and into the next door farm.

When the hunters finally gave up and went back home, Bertie climbed down from his tree. He was tempted to go back to bed by himself, but then he thought of the others lying in the dark coal hole. He didn’t care for them much, and he it might serve them right. Then he felt a sense of injustice rising up inside him.

“Nobody deserves to be treated like that,” he thought.

And so he sneaked passed the sleeping sentry, unbolted the coal hole, and released the prisoners. They came out covered in dirt and spluttering with coal dust. The sentry, who was the daughter of a TV weather man, awoke, but she was frightened by the dark figures emerging out of the coal hole, and she pretended to be still asleep. They all ran back to the showers and spent the night tucked up in bed.

In the morning, an angry farmer called to say that a pack of dogs had been running through his crops. Major Tim was not pleased with Boris.

But as for Bertie… need I say that he was a bit of a hero? Even Hans shook his hand and apologised for calling him Prince Scum. Billy patted him on the back and said,

“Now I ken that you’re a great lad, even if you are a prince.”

And Bertie invited them all to come and stay at the palace for Christmas. He knew that the Wicked Queen would hardly be pleased, but he didn’t really care about that. He danced with the prettiest girl at the end of camp jig – but of course he didn’t forget the lovely Princess Beatrice. And Major Tim wrote to the Wicked Queen saying:

“I gave him my worst, but Prince Bertie is a tough nut and a hard case, and if he ever wants a job in the marines, I’d be glad to recommend him.

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This is Natasha, and while I’ve been away doing a bit of globe trotting, I didn’t forget about my old friends. I sent Prince Bertie the Frog a postcard from Mount Everest, but unfortunately it didn’t arrive because the postman couldn’t find the letter box by the pond. Anyway, as soon as I had unpacked my rucksack, I went out for a walk in search of pond life. I couldn’t see Bertie, but as I was wandering along the water’s edge I heard:

“EEEEEEK!”

I knew that squeak. It belonged to a tadpole called Tim.

He had spotted a shadow on the bottom of the pond that looked just like a shark opening its jaws full of jagged teeth. But in fact, the scary shadow belonged to a grumpy old carp called Colin, and he wasn’t trying to frighten anyone, he was just having a good old yawn.

Bertie must have heard Tim’s high pitched voice too, because he came hopping out from a hole in the river bank and swam over to his little friend, who was panting for breath and just getting over the fright of his life.

When Tim had recovered from his shock, he asked his royal green friend:

“Bertie, haven’t you ever been really really frightened?”

“Phwa! “ exclaimed Bertie. “Princes are never frightened.”

“Truthfully? Are they never ever at all, just a teeny-weeny bit scared?”

Bertie’s face turned from green to red because he could see that Colin was about to mock him for having pants on fire.

“Well there was just one time when I met a talking statue“ admitted Bertie. “I think anyone would have been frightened by that.”

And as the Pond Life loved to hear stories about Bertie when was still a human prince, all the fishes, fowls, amphibians, and insects gathered around to listen.

It was the time of year when the days are short and dark, and it seems like winter will never end. One morning, as the king – who was Bertie’s father sat frowning into his cornflakes, the Queen said to him.

“ Oh buck yourself up man ! I’m sick and tired of looking at your miserable old face. Why don’t you do something useful for once, like fix a holiday?”

Her words took a few moments to work through the king’s foggy thoughts, before he replied:

“Where would you like to go my dear?”

“Oh anywhere so long as it’s hot and sunny.”

And the King took the Queen right at her word. He booked a holiday in the desert. This was not at all what she had in mind, but it cheered up the King no end, because the terrace of their hotel overlooked a wonderful site that he had always wanted to see.

The sun was setting over the Syrian sands. In the distance, an old Arabic fort guarded the oasis of Palmyra. As the King and Queen sipped their evening cocktails, the top of a Corinthian column, at least 2000 years old, formed their table. Only few yards in front of them began the ruins of an ancient city, that stretched out between the fringes of the palm trees, and the site of the fort. Rows of columns marked the lines of once busy streets. Arched porticos and the roofless walls of temples and palaces indicated the magnificence of the city’s past. But these days its only inhabitants are the ghosts of the merchants who once made Palmyra a rich and splendid city.

Now if the King has a gift, it’s for telling stories. No doubt that’s where Prince Bertie gets his yarning talents from. And when it comes to Ancient History, the King is a bit of a buff. He began to tell his Queen a story.

Two thousand years ago, the merchants of Palmyra grew fabulously wealthy from trade in silks and spices. The ruler of this desert city was Queen Zenobia, who claimed Cleopatra for an ancestor, and who equalled both the beauty and the reckless courage of the Egyptian Queen. They say she had large black eyes that sparkled with uncommon fire. She spoke many languages, she studied the Greek and Roman philosophers, and she made strong but just laws. But as her wealth and power grew, so did her pride and ambition. She decided to conquer all of Asia Minor, and take from the Romans who were then its rulers. But her armies were defeated. When she tried to escape on the back of a speeding camel, she was taken captive. The Romans led her back to their capital. Their Emperor celebrated his victory over Zenobia with a triumphal parade of tigers, elephants, and gladiators. But more exotic and magnificent than any of these, was the sight of the proud and beautiful queen, walking behind her chariot weighed down by chains of gold.

When the King had finished relating this brief history, his wife yawned and said:

“Well if it had been me, I wouldn’t have got myself caught like that.”

And the King nodded and said, “I have no doubt about that, my dear, but now we should turn in for the night, because tomorrow we shall rise at dawn before the heat becomes unbearable.”

Very early the next morning, the Queen sat, somewhat disgruntled, on a camel, which provided the best form of transport around the columns, the forums,, the ancient tombs, and the temples. The King, rode along side her, radiating interest and enthusiasm.

“My dear, In ancient times, the statues of wealthy merchants were placed on every column along this street. But where are they now? Their magnificence has been swept away like a brief sand storm in the desert. Doesn’t that make you think?”

And the Queen replied:

“What souvenirs do they sell in this dump?”

At the end of the tour, their guide whispered to her that he knew of some very special souvenirs, that were kept back for only the most important guests.

“Sounds interesting,” said the Queen. And while the King was taking an afternoon nap, she visited the secret souvenir shop.

“You see this statue,” said the guide pointing to a handsome stone face with large eyes, a fine mouth, and a neatly trimmed beard, “It is almost as if he is alive. He was a wealthy merchant, and he commissioned the finest statues of himself and his family so that their likenesses would live for ever.”

“A wealthy merchant you say,” repeated the Queen softly, and she thought how the statue could prove useful to her for magic spells to turn something like a metal spoon into gold. “I’ll have him!” she declared. And she arranged for it to be taken out of the country by her diplomats, who are never stopped or searched by customs.

A few weeks after the King and Queen returned home from their holiday, the statue of the merchant of Palmyra was delivered to the palace. The Queen was already working on another wicked plan, and she half forgot about her souvenir which she stored in a crate in the cellar next to the dungeons.

It was not often that Prince Bertie went down to the dungeons, but the Wicked Queen had locked up his friend’s dad for not paying his parking fines. Bertie thought it was all a bit unfair, and so when the guard was taking a nap, he released the poor man from his cell.

As he was leaving the gaol, Bertie saw the door to the storage cellar. He thought it would be nice to look through some of his old toys and books to see if they brought back fond memories. He found his old bicycle with stabilizers on the back, and some roller blades which are now several sizes too small. Then he noticed the crate that was marked in Arabic writing. It was almost as tall as he was:

“Looks like a coffin,” he thought to himself. While he was pondering the crate, a banging noise started to emerge from it, as if somebody was trying to get out.

“Ha Ha, Funny joke. You don’t scare me,whoever you are,” said Bertie. But Bertie wasn’t really sure if he was scared or not, until the crate started to move towards him as if by magic. Then he knew. He was terrified, and he ran out of the cellar and flew up the stairs and back to his room as fast as he could.

“But but…” he said to himself as he gasped for breath with the door firmly bolted behind him, “Things like that don’t happen in real life. It must have been my pesky little brother Harry playing tricks. Silly me. It’s all a bit embarrassing. I won’t say anything about this to anybody.”

The following morning, the royal family sat around the breakfast table. The Queen was reading the newspaper and the King was saying:

“My dear, there’s a Syrian fellow standing in the hallway. He says you kidnapped him from Palmyra and now he’s going to put a curse on you. We had a jolly interesting chat. He’s awfully knowledgeable about Ancient History. “

The Queen didn’t hear her husband because she was engrossed in the forecast for floods, plague and pestilence.

“Just been talking to a Syrian fellow in the hallway,” insisted the King, only louder.
“Says you kidnapped him…”

“He says that does he?” replied the Queen. “Have the scoundrel thrown into the dungeon for slander,” and she returned to the newspaper.

Bertie was just finishing his third piece of toast and marmalade when the king said,

“Here’s the chappy.”

Bertie looked up and saw the statue walking into the room. Princess Beatrice screamed, even louder than the time when she found a spider in her lunch box. She ran into the kitchen and shut herself in the pantry. Prince Harry hid behind the curtains. The Wicked Queen jumped out of the window. Only Bertie and the King were left at the breakfast table with the ghostly guest.

“Why, I do believe you’re crying,” said the Bertie to the statue. And it was true. A large tear was running down his stone face. He put his arm around the ancient merchant and led him to a seat.

“There, there, start from the beginning and tell us all about it,” he said. The merchant cleared his throat of some ancient sand:

“Ah hum. You see before you a statue. I am the likeness of the merchant, Oloreus, who in his time amassed a great fortune through trade along the silk route. It is my duty to watch over the tomb of Oloreus, where he lies with his faithful wife, three lovely daughters, their husbands, and his grandchildren. My duty is for all time because the love of Oloreus for his family was without end. I guarded the tomb for almost two thousand years, and then I was removed and sold as a souvenir. Does it surprise you that this stone can weep?’

“My dear chap, you’ll have me at it soon,” said the King dabbing his eye. And he was so moved by the story, that he instructed Bertie to pack up the statue and to take him back to the tomb of Oloreus in Palmyra. Bertie, of course was only too pleased to visit the fabulous city, because he shares his father’s interest in ancient history.

And to ensure that the statue was never moved again, he had a sign made up in several languages that warned all who visited the tomb that anyone who tampered with it or stole from it would suffer a curse and die within two weeks of committing the sacrilege.

And that’s the story of how Bertie returned the statue of the merchant to ancient Palmyra. Tim the Tadpole found it rather frightening, especially when Beatrice found a spider in her lunchbox.

And before I go, I’d just like to say a very special thank you to everyone who has sent emails and messages asking about me while I’ve been away. It’s been very touching. I do hope that you have been enjoying the stories read by Richard and Elizabeth. I’d just like to tell you about my own plans. For the next few weeks I’m going to be finishing reading Alice Through the Looking Glass, and you will be able to hear them on our Alice in Wonderland Podcast and on Storynory.com. It’s a project that’s dear to my heart, and I’ve been meaning to finish it for ages.

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Prince Bertie the Frog’s friend, Tim the Tadpole, is extremely upset because a certain person on the pond has called him “stupid” for not doing well at school. No prizes for guessing that the name of that person is Colin the Carp.

Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 15.02

… And this picture of Bertie and this Pondlife friends is by Phoebe Katsaiti, aged 6.

It was end of term at the Tadpole School, and all the tadpoles had to do exams. When Tim came home for the holidays, he was terribly excited about his results. He was turning in cartwheels and calling out

“Mummy Mummy, can you guess where I came in class?”

Tim’s mum – who is of course a frog – saw that her youngest tadpole seemed ecstatically pleased and proud with himself, and she thought he must have done very well indeed.

“Er, did you come first?” she ventured.

“No -oh ! – you’ll never guess” said Tim as he stopped to catch his breath.

“Er did you come first equal”

“No-ooooo”

“Well then did you come second?”

And Tim gave his mother a little tadpole kiss. “Oh Mummy. You’re taking simply ages to guess the right answer, and I can’t wait to tell you. I won a really really big number. The teacher told me that I cam 2974th in my class. Isn’t that fantastic?”

But Tim’s mother found it hard to smile sweetly, and her expression looked just a bit, well, weak. She didn’t want her little Tadpole to feel bad about himself, but at the same time she really would have preferred him to come first or first equal, or even second – or even third come to that. She tried to think of something nice to say – which normally she was very good at – but this time it was quite hard. Eventually she said softly to Tim.

“Oh well darling. I suppose somebody’s got to come 2974th.”

Tim was very pleased, and he swam off to tell Colin the Carp – which wasn’t a good idea, because Colin isn’t quite as nice as Tim’s mummy. Colin would say that he’s a harbinger of the truth. But most people would say he’s just plain old rude, which only goes to show that everything depends on your point of view. Tim found him lurking around the east end of the pond looking sinister, which is what carps are good at. When Tim told him about his exam result, Colin replied.

“I suppose you could say that’s a unique achievement.”

“Oh thank you Colin, you always say the nicest things,” said Tim with a happy smile on his face.

And then Colin couldn’t quite help himself. He just had add what is called the “sting in the tail” because that’s what Colin does. And so he muttered: “Uniquely stupid”.

And although Colin said this quietly, Tim heard it. And when he thought about what Colin had said, all his excitement suddenly turned to sadness. He was so sad that he swam away crying.

“Oh No. Am I really really truly stupid? Oh it’s not good to be stupid, is it? Oh dear. Colin thinks I’m stupid… I feel really bad about myself now now.”

And to tell you the truth, Colin felt rather guilty. It was an unusual feeling for Colin, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. Eventually, he decided to go and tell Bertie the frog that Tim was a bit upset. When Bertie what had happened, he searched and searched the pond for his little friend. Finally he found him in the water under the overhang of the weeping willow tree. He seemed to be concentrating very hard on something.

“What are you doing here, all on your own little Tim?” asked Bertie.

“Counting green algae”

Green algae are tiny little plants – so tiny that they are even smaller than tadpoles – and very hard to see. But lots of water creatures eat them because they are extremely nutritious.

“And how many algae have you counted?” asked Bertie.

“Well I started at a million and I’m counting backwards. But now I’ve forgotten where I got to. Oh dear. Am I really really stupid Bertie?”

But Bertie assured him that he wasn’t at all stupid. He was just original.

“Is that just a big word for stupid?” asked Tim. And he started to cry. Nothing Bertie could say would cheer him up. All Bertie could do was to lead him home, and when they got there Tim had cried so much that he was really quite exhausted. His mother tucked him up under a leaf, kissed him, and soon he was asleep. She whispered to Bertie.

“Oh dear. I know he’s never going to be the brightest tadpole in the pond, but I just want him to be happy.”

“Well I don’t accept that Tim’s stupid,” said Bertie. “He’s just silly, which is another way of saying he gets overexcited sometimes. Don’t worry. We’ll teach him to pass his exams. There’s just a knack to them, that’s all. If you have the knack, and you work hard, you can’t fail. But if you start to think that you can’t do them, then you’ll get into a state and do worse and worse. We’ll work up a plan for him. A plan for success !”

And Tim’s mother thought that Bertie was being really nice – but she wasn’t quite sure that he or anybody else could help Tim do better at school.

The next day Bertie took Tim for a swim around the pond, and while they swam he asked him all about his exams. First, he asked him how the geography exam was. And Tim said he didn’t know, because he got the time wrong, and he turned up just as it was finishing.

“I see,” said Bertie. “Rule number one. Ninety percent of success is just turning up. Always arrive at an exam half an hour early – and check and double check the timetable beforehand.”

And Tim thought that Bertie’s advice was jolly interesting, because he hadn’t thought of that before.

And then Bertie asked him how the story composition went.

“Oh I did really well in storytelling. ” Bertie was pleased, because he kind of hoped that a little of his own storytelling skill would have rubbed off on Tim. But then Tim went on:

“I finished first by a mile. I just wrote, ‘Once upon a time. The end.’ Everyone else took ages to catch up. ”

“Right,” said Bertie. “Rule number two. Slow and steady wins the race. Use all the time available.”.

And then he asked him how he did in mathematics.

“Oh not too bad,” said Tim. “The questions were really hard but I guessed all the answers.”

“Ah-ha. Rule number three,” said Bertie. “No guessing. And never panic, no matter how hard the questions seem at first. Keep a cool head  and work your way steadily through them.”

And they swim on, while they thought about that one.

“Now finally, how was history?” asked Bertie.

“Well I thought I did really well,” said Tim. “Because I wrote done some really funny answers.”

“Okay,” said Bertie. “Rule number four. Exams are no joking matter”.

And then Bertie gave Tim some more rules for exams.

Before you do anything else, read through all the questions.
Make a plan for how much time you need on each answer.
Leave some time at the end to read through for mistakes.

And they swam round the pond three more times and made sure that Tim knew and understood all Bertie’s tips.

“So you see,” said Bertie. “Exams aren’t really about being clever. They are about having the right knack. Oh, and there’s hard work too. That’s the downside. But we can make learning fun. ”

And Bertie and the pondlife helped Tim with his lessons. Bertie taught Tim story composition – because making up stories is what Bertie does best – Harry the centipede helped Tim with mathematics, because he can count to a hundred on his feet, Colin helped Tim with History, because Colin is old and remembers a lot of it himself, and the the swallows helped Tim with Geography because they fly long distance every year and the see how all the land lies, as well as the seas. By the end of the holidays, Tim had learned more things than you would have ever thought possible for one Tadpole to hold in his tiny pin head at one time. And then Tim went back to school and learned even more interesting things. When the exams came, he followed Bertie’s rules – and do you know what ? He scored better marks than anyone else in his whole class. And it was a very big class indeed, because there are thousands of tadpoles in the pond.

But even though he scored top marks, he only came 2869th in class.

When Bertie understood that Tim had scored top marks, but was still 2869th in his class, he went to see the teacher to ask how this could be. The teacher told him that the school had a rule that you could only improve by five places in each exam, because to improve by more than that was impossible. Bertie said that was jolly unfair and the school should do more to encourage improvement. Tim swam around hanging his head low and saying that there was no point in working hard and doing well, because your efforts weren’t recognised.

But the next week Tim started at the Big School. And everything was new. There was no unfair rule about how much anyone could improve and Tim already knew lots of interesting things, and he also had the knack of doing exams. From then on, Tim did rather well at school. And although some people still call him silly every now and then, because he gets really excited and asks lots and lots of questions – nobody calls him stupid any more. Well Colin does sometimes. But that’s just Colin – and you shouldn’t take too much notice of what he says because he’s a grumpy old carp.

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When Bertie was a prince, he won a prize for being the Kingdom’s Most Courteous Driver. The Wicked Queen thought that he looked ridiculous waiting at the lights in his ordinary car. She was more furious than ever that her daughter wanted to marry such a pathetic prince. She thought that the best way to un-impress Princess Beatrice with Bertie was to arrange a driving holiday.

Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 19.01a

Bertie’s Car
As you probably know, there is a tadpole who lives in the palace pond with Bertie, and his name is Tim. All day long, he likes to swim around asking no end of questions. And if nobody answers his question, he asks it again, and again, and again. He’s always got some question on his mind. For example, this morning, when Bertie was sitting on a stone, Tim popped his pin-sized head out of the water and asked:

“Bertie, can you drive a car?”

As sometimes happens, Colin the Carp was eavesdropping, and he could not resist butting in with:

“Oh yes, little Tim, it’s every frog that can drive a car. In fact, some frogs are taxi drivers. In fact, before tadpoles can grow up to be frogs, they have to pass a driving test, in fact….” But Colin couldn’t think of another ‘”in fact” so Tim said:

“Oh really. That’s jolly interesting…” Then he thought for a bit while he swam once around the pond. Nobody was surprised when his swam back with another question:

“Bertie, when you were a prince, what sort of car did you drive?”

And this time Bertie answered for himself saying: “I bet that you can’t guess.”

“Oh oh, I like the Guessing Game. Um Um, a red Ferrari…?”

“No.”

“Ah, I know a really good car. Ah Ah a Porsche.”

“No.”

“Oh, Oh, Don’t tell me yes, Ah Ah…” But Tim had to give up, because he couldn’t remember the names of any more cars. And so Bertie told him that that the car he used to drive when he was a prince was a …. Ford.

And Tim was awfully impressed. But nobody else was. Because although Fords are fine cars in many ways, they are cars that, well, ordinary people drive, not princes. Not usually anyway.

But Tim could hardly contain himself with excitement now that he had learned the name of a new car. The only way that Bertie could stop his flood of questions was to tell a story. And this what he told.

As soon as Prince Bertie was old enough to drive, he asked his father, the King, for a car. The King did not really approve of cars, or any type of machine really, apart from steam trains, which he liked a lot. But Bertie kept on asking and asking until eventually the King agreed that he could have one of the cars that were parked in the palace garage. He didn’t really mind which car Bertie took. But the Wicked Queen did. Because, you see, she loved cars, and the faster and the more expensive, the better. And so she told the garage man to give Bertie the slowest and the oldest.

Now Bertie and the garage man had known each other for a long, long time. When Bertie was just a small princeling, he often used to come down to the garage to watch his friend mend the cars.

When the Bertie came to collect his car, the garage man scratched his head and said: “It doesn’t really seem right that a royal prince should have an old car like this. I’ll tell you what. I’ll soup it up a bit. ”

And over the next month, whenever the he had a little spare time, he worked on Bertie’s car and added some special features – like an extra super fast engine, and a frame to make it stronger in case it rolled over in a rally race, and bullet proof glass just in a case anybody tried to assassinate Prince Bertie.

“Wow,” thought Bertie as he drove without an instructor for first time. He pushed his foot down on the accelerator pedal, “This car doesn’t look like much on the outside, but inside there’s a lean, mean racing machine trying to get out.”

And VROOOMMM ! he went speeding down the road, weaving in and out of traffic, and jumping through lights just as they turned red.

“This is terr—if- ific,” he said. But that was just before a dog ran across the road in front of him. Bertie liked dogs, and certainly did not want to run it over, but there was no time to break and so he swerved to the left. The tyre hit the curb and he went bouncing back out into the road, and only just missed the dog. He had totally lost control now, and the car was just driving itself. A mother was pushing her pram along the other side of the pavement towards him. The car was skidding diagonally towards them. It mounted the pavement, and just went past the pram. It carried on ploughing through two or three front gardens and ended up in a hedge. As the car crashed to a halt, Bertie lurched forward but his seatbelt stopped him going too far. An airbag blew up in front of his nose.

The fist thing he heard was the mother of the baby that he had almost killed saying,

“Are you alright? Shall I call an ambulance?’

Bertie managed to get out of the car and stand up, but his legs were so wobbly he he had to sit on the grass for a few minutes. Then he said to the mother:

“Madam, I promise you, that from now on I am always going to be a good driver.”

And Prince Bertie kept his promise. He even won an award for being the Kingdom’s most courteous driver.

But the Wicked Queen was anything but a courteous driver. If anyone dared to cut in front of her, or worse, give her a speeding ticket or a parking fine, she turned them into a beetle. As she sped through the red traffic lights, she thought that Prince Bertie looked quite silly as he waited at the white line. She hated the fact that her daughter, the lovely Princess Beatrice, wanted to marry such a namby-pamby, handbreak-on, geer-in-neutral, nincompoop.

And so she decided that the best way to un-impress Beatrice with Bertie was to go on a driving holiday. At the start of summer the Wicked Queen sat at the wheel of her low slung, pointy-nosed, sleek black speed machine. Bertie opened the door of his Ford and helped Princess Beatrice with her seat belt.

They took the road to the next door kingdom, and once they were across the border, they headed for the mountains. The Queen had arranged for them to stop for the night with her cousin who lived in a castle on a high mountain pass. She would have arrived hours before Bertie and Beatrice, only the police pulled her over her for speeding.

“Do you want me to turn you into a cockroach?” she asked the police officer. But she was in a foreign land now, and the officials were not afraid of her. She thought she had better not do anything too wicked, in case she started a war between the two countries.

They arrived at the castle towards nightfall. Its white towers and pointy red roofs guarded the valley from the top of a wall of rock. Prince Dracula would not have been ashamed to live there.

But its current owner, Prince Vlad, did not look at all like a vampire. He was a small man with a little blond moustache. It was hard to see any family resemblance to his cousin the Wicked Queen. And Bertie thought: “He’s obviously sweet like Beatrice, and not at all wicked like her mother.”

As it was late, they soon sat down to dinner in the great hall of the castle. The first course was wild boar pate. Unfortunately, Beatrice could not eat it because she was a vegetarian.

“Oh dear, I’m so hungry” she whispered to Bertie.

The second course was a fondue. A fondue is a mountain dish which you cook yourself at the table. Beatrice was pleased because when she saw the servant set up the fondue set and light the flame below it. She loved fondues. At home, they would prong bits of bread with a skewer, and dip them in a cheese sauce which was melted over the heat. If you lost your bread, you had to do a forfeit – like sing a song or say something silly about yourself.

“This will be fun,” she said to Bertie. The servant lifted the lid of the silver serving dish. But oh no. This wasn’t a cheese fondue. It was raw meat. The Queen quickly pronged a piece with her skewer and popped it into her mouth without cooking it.

Beatrice was so disappointed. “Excuse me,” she said to Prince Vlad. “Could you ask them to bring me some cheese and perhaps some celery? You see, I’m a vegetarian. ”

Prince Vlad looked quite astonished. He clearly did not expect to entertain a vegetarian in his castle.

“I know,” said the Queen to her cousin. “Pathetic isn’t it?”

And Prince Vlad said:

“Well she looks like a horse, so it’s hardly surprising that she eats grass.”

“Hey,” said Bertie. “How dare you say that about Beatrice? She’s the most lovely, charming, and beautiful princess in the whole wide world.”

“How dare I?” said Prince Vlad. “This is my castle, and I can say what I want to.”

“Well I jolly well think you should say you’re sorry,” said Bertie.

At the word “sorry”. Prince Vlad’s little moustache twitched, and his ears went red. His eyes swivelled this way and that. It was clearly a word that he didn’t like very much.

“Sorry?” he said under his breath. And then he said louder. “I shall give you my apologies with a bullet at dawn. I challenge you to a duel!”

“Alright”, said Bertie.

“Oh no! Stop it. Stop it!” exclaimed Beatrice.

“Oh goodie!” said the Queen. Because she loved duels, and she thought her cousin Vlad was bound to win and shoot Bertie, and that would be the end of her problem.

Beatrice could hold back her tears no longer. She ran out of the room sobbing. Bertie caught up with her down the corridor.

“This is too too silly,” said Beatrice. I absolutely forbid you to take part in this duel. You know he’ll cheat. Your pistol probably won’t even be loaded. In fact, I won’t marry you if you fight this duel, even if he doesn’t kill you.”

And even though Bertie thought his honour was at stake, Beatrice made him promise that they would get up before dawn and leave.

In the middle of the night, Bertie and Beatrice quietly drove down the star-lit road away from Price Vlad’s castle. They were heading for the border with the next Kingdom, and then the sea. At first, it was quite scary driving along the windy road in the dark. But then the sun began to rise above the mountains, and Bertie felt glad to be alive and by the side of his lovely and sensible princess.

But not too long after dawn, two policemen on motor cycles drove along side the car and waved at Bertie to pull over. Bertie stopped the car and wound down the window.

“What have I done?” he asked.

“You were driving too slowly,” said the policeman.

Bertie laughed. Beatrice leaned over and told the policeman: “No he wasn’t. He was driving normally.”

Then the policeman said:

“You are under arrest for running away from a duel. You must return to castle of Prince Vladimir.”

“You were right,” said Bertie to Beatrice, “It’s all a trick. Prince Vlad just wants to kill me. The Wicked Queen put him up to this to stop me marrying you.”

“What shall we do?” asked Beatrice.

“This” said Bertie, and he pulled the car out and accelerated down the narrow mountain road.

The policemen jumped onto their motor cycles and started to give chase. Beatrice covered her face with terror because she was certain that Bertie would shoot off the road at the first bend and they would go hurtling thousands of feet to their deaths- but he took it perfectly. And he rounded the second corner like a rally driver.

You see, what Bertie hadn’t told anyone, was that every weekend he took his car to the racing track and practiced driving it fast.

But by the time they were on a straight piece of road, the motor cycles were catching up with them. Bertie pressed a button on the dash board and the car shot forward even faster than before. Still the motor cycles were keeping up. By the next bend one of them was trying to overtake.

But it was still early morning, and the road was slippery with dew. Bertie’s car went into a spin. He steered into the skid as he had been taught and managed to take it round in a perfect circle and carry on driving. But the policemen had to drive off the road to avoid him – fortunately for them, it wasn’t too steep here and they both went speeding over the green pastures, unable to stop until they were nearly at the bottom of the valley.

It wasn’t far to the border now. When they reached the barrier, Bertie just went crashing straight through it. The border guards opened fire, and it was a good thing that the windows of Bertie’s car were bullet proof. He sped through no-man’s land and slowed down just before the crossing into the next country. Beatrice and Bertie waived their royal passports at the two guards and they reached safety.

Bertie and Beatrice drove calmly on to their destination: the summer palace of Princess Leone which overlooked the sparkling blue sea. The Wicked Queen arrived three days later. You see, first she lost the way, and then her car broke down. But what annoyed her more than anything was that she soon saw that Bertie and Beatrice were more in love than ever.

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Sadie is a beautiful black swan who lives on the pond with Prince Bertie the Frog. She finds a crown and puts it on her elegant head. Prince Boris sees her, and believes that she is a princess who has been turned into a swan – in the same way that Prince Bertie was turned into a frog.

Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 14.53

As a rule, the pondlife loves children. This is because children often come down to the pond with pellets of stale bread which they throw into the water. The bread can be quite hard, and it hurts if it hits you on the head, but when it’s wet, it quickly turns soft and soggy and is quite delicious and tummy-filling if you are a duck or a swan.

One summer’s day, the royal nanny wheeled a push chair from the palace, down the garden path to the pond. The little girl sitting in the chair wore a golden crown on top of her curly head. Her name was Princess Poppy.

When they arrived, Nanny released the little princess from her the straps of her push chair and gave her a bag of the day-before-yesterday’s bread. All the ducks and geese could spot a crumb from a mile away, and they were soon flapping and squawking in front of the princess, and racing and pecking each other. Sadie, the solitary black swan, sat aloof from the unseemly squabble, and admired the crown on the little princess’s head.

“Oh my,” said Sadie out loud to no one in particular, “I am so pleased to live on a royal pond. The people who come here are such a cut above !”

Princess Poppy began to toddle along the edge of the pond, The Royal Nanny followed close behind her, tapping on her her mobile phone as she went. The princess clambered up onto a little pier that led out into the water.

The nanny was texting

CU @ 8 by the bike sheds

And she did not notice when the princess’s little foot trod on some duck weed. Prince Bertie the frog saw this and he croaked:

“Ah-oh !”

Because he knew that the weed was very slippery.

And then, oh dear, she did slip on the weed, and then:

Splash !

Princess Poppy was in the water. She couldn’t swim and she just went straight down to the bottom like a bomb. The water wasn’t deep, but it went over the princess’s head.

Bertie dived in after her but he was just a frog, and all he could do was say:

“Hold your breath little princess!”

The nanny, still holding her mobile phone, jumped into the water, and in a few seconds she had pulled the princess up off the bottom of the pond and placed her on the pier.

The princess said,”Look Nanny, I’m all wet.”

And Nanny burst into tears because she knew it was her fault. She was so upset, that she didn’t notice that her mobile phone had stopped working.

Or that the princess had left her crown on the bottom of the pond.

The first creatures to find the crown were the tadpoles. It looked so big to them that they thought it was a golden palace and that its points were towers. They swam in and out of it singing:

“I’m the king of the castle, and you’re the dirty rascal.”

Then Colin the carp scooped the crown onto his head and tried it for size.

“Now I’m just as important as that snooty His Royal Highness Prince Bertie the Frog,” he said.

But after a while, his head began to hurt, and so he stopped wearing the crown.

Little Tim the Tadpole said: “Bertie, why don’t you put the crown on? After all, you’re the only true prince in this pond.”

Unfortunately, Bertie couldn’t wear the crown, because although it was size 1 and a half, just big enough for a small child, it was still too heavy for a frog.

But it did fit just perfectly onto the elegant head of Sadie the Swan.

Soon, she was swanning around the pond like a true princess. All the ducklings and goslings gazed at her in admiration.

In a dark corner of the pond, Colin the carp muttered: “It’s bad enough putting up with a frog who thinks he’s a prince, but there’s nothing so annoying as a swan who’s got airs and graces.”

And as it happened, Sadie was already wondering if in fact she was a true princess.

“Bertie,” she said as she admired her own reflection, “Do you think it’s at all possible that the Wicked Queen turned me into a swan, just like she turned you into a frog?’

And Bertie did not want to disappoint Sadie, so he replied, “Well, maybe….”

Later that day, Prince Boris came down to the pond. He set up a little chair on the end of the pier, took out a rod, and cast a fishing line into the water. Bertie warned all the fish to stay away from his hook, even though there was a fat tempting worm on it.

Prince Boris had flowing blond locks of hair. Bertie always considered that he looked like a girl, but the girls all thought he was extremely handsome. And Sadie agreed with them. She glided over to the pier, and placed herself where he could not fail to notice her.

Boris looked at her in amazement. He had never seen a swan with a crown on her head before, but he had heard tales of beautiful princesses turned into swans.

“Why,” he said, “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever set eyes upon.”

And Sadie fluttered her feathers with pleasure at the compliment.

“You black beauty,” he went on. “Could it be…. could it be that you are a princess? – a beautiful African princess. Why, I’m sure you must be. The wicked Queen is always turning people into pondlife. It’s even rumoured that she converted that snotty Prince Bertie into a slug or a toad. He’s certainly not been seen or heard of since she got angry with him. Now listen carefully my darling princess swan. This is the longest day of the year. Tonight, at sunset, I will come down to the pond, kiss your beautiful red beak, and turn you back into a princess. Wait for me my lovely. But now I must hurry and buy a diamond ring for our engagement. Till tonight, Adieu! Adieu! ”

On hearing these words, Sadie almost swooned with excitement.

“Don’t listen to him,” said Bertie, “Boris is a well known love-rat. He always cheated at football. He bullied small princelings. He copied my homework. He tried to pinch Princess Beatrice off me. He has no honour. He’ll stop at nothing. Sadie, you must listen to me, you can do so much better than Boris !”

But Sadie didn’t listen to Bertie because she had been swept off her wings and was already dreaming of her royal wedding to Prince Boris the Brave.

That evening Sadie was waiting for her prince. She sat in the middle of the pond with her crown glinting red and gold in the dying rays of the sun.

Boris came down to the pond, sat down by the bank, and pulled on some enormous green goloshes that went up above his knees. Then he started to wade into the the water towards Sadie. But just as he got near, Colin the carp swam under his foot and tripped him up. Boris fell over into the water and emerged spluttering and with green slime in his blond hair. Bertie laughed, but Sadie did not hear him. She wanted to say,

“Darling, do not worry, for I will love you for ever and day, slime and all”

And Boris stumbled towards her. She gently closed her eyes.

“Now, ” she thought, “Now I will be restored to my true self. Princess Sadie”.

He held her head in his hands and kissed her red beak.

And nothing happened.

So he kissed her again.

And still nothing happened.

“Oh bother” he said, and tried one last time. But still Sadie was a Swan.

“Ah, terribly sorry,” said Boris, “But it seems that you aren’t a princess after all. Just a silly old swan. Well I’m just glad nobody saw this little moonlight escapade.”

And with that, he turned around and started to wade back to the pond.

“Oh Sadie,” said Bertie, as he tried to comfort her, “I did try to warn you…. ” but Sadie was disconsolate, which means more than just a bit sad. She didn’t reply. She cast the crown off her head into the water before sliding off to hide in the rushes.

“It’s all right for that rat Boris,” she said to herself, “None of his friends saw him fall face down in the pond. But all the pond life know what a fool I was made to look. Oh the shame of it ! I will never live this down.”

And for two days she stayed put. Bertie brought her the tastiest slime on the pond, and the best bits of bread from Princess Poppy, but nothing would comfort her.

Until, that is, three days later a handsome black swan came swooping in to land on the pond with a great …swooooooosh !

Sadie poked her head out of the rushes to see who the new arrival was.

“Ah,’ she said, “He looks rather nice. I think I’ll pop over and be the first to welcome him to our pond.’

And I’m glad to say that very soon she had forgotten all about Prince Boris.

But Colin the Carp kept the crown standing outside his home in the rocks on the bottom of the pond, just to show that he was the most important fish in the water.

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Now you know what Bertie looks like, Sophie Green has painted four pictures for this story. We would love to know what you think of the way Prince Bertie looks.

Most people would just love to see a mermaid – but not Prince Bertie. This is the story of why Bertie thinks that mermaids can be as dangerous as they are beautiful. It’s all because of something that happened before he was turned into a frog. One Christmas, Bertie and the lovely Princess Beatrice went away to a tropical island. Unfortunately, the wicked step-mother came too… and that was the start of their problems.

This is our longest and most ambitious Bertie story to date. We really hope that you will enjoy it.

Read by Natasha. Duration 35 minutes. Pictures copyright Sophie Green 2008.

I’m just dying to tell you about somebody I’ve just seen on the pond where Prince Bertie the Frog lives. As you know, there are plenty of fish, tadpoles, frogs, swans, ducks and geese who live there . But today I saw something much more unusual. Something that you normally only find out at sea, and then only hardly ever. Do you know what it was? No, not a whale – and not even a dolphin – what I saw was -

A mermaid

Yes, and her name was Pearl and she was sitting on little island in the middle of the pond and combing her hair and reciting a mermaid poem:

Who would be
A mermaid fair,
Singing alone,
Combing her hair
Under the sea,
In a golden curl
With a comb of pearl,
On a throne?

I would be a mermaid fair;
I would sing to myself the whole of the day;
With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair;
And still as I comb’d I would sing and say,
“Who is it loves me? who loves not me?”

All the pondlife was as entranced as I was.

Even Colin the Carp was clearly charmed by the new arrival with a fishy tail. And that’s highly unusual, because he’s an especially grumpy fish.

I said “all the pondlife” – but then I noticed that Bertie was not looking quite so pleased. In fact, he wore his expression that was said he was “jolly fed up.”

And when Sadie the Swan gasped:

“Oh my, a real mermaid, right here on our pond. Isn’t she the most wonderful creature you ever did see?”

Bertie spat out:

“No she jolly well isn’t. The very last thing we need on this pond is a mermaid. In my experience, mermaids are nothing but trouble. Why, they’re no better than sirens!”

Unfortunately the mermaid overheard Bertie and she was rather put out. She shook her little fist at him.

“Hey, you with the frog-face,” she said, “If I’m not appreciated around here I’ll pack up and go back to the seaside thank you very much.”

“And Good Riddance!” said Bertie.

And as soon as Bertie said that, there was uproar on the pond. The geese honked, the ducks quacked, and the tadpoles- well they just flipped their tails and made minuscule little splashes that hardly anyone could hear.

Colin the Carp swam straight up to Bertie’s face and said:

“Oyyyy !!! If anyone’s going to be rude and horrible around here – it’s me. That’s what I do. So you just pipe down and learn some manners, Prince Bertie the Frog.”

And then he swam up to where the mermaid was dangling her tail of silvery scales in the water and said to her:

“There there dear. Don’t be upset by that smelly old frog. He thinks he’s a prince he does, but we don’t take much notice of him. If there’s anything you need, just call on me, Colin the Gallant Carp. I’m always at the service of a fair and scaly maiden.”

And poor Bertie hopped away looking very sad indeed. I went after my green friend, and when I found Bertie hiding in an old flower pot in the garden, I asked what he had against mermaids. And this what he told me.

It all happened back in the days when Bertie was still a prince and was courting the lovely Princess Beatrice. It was winter, and Bertie’s room in the palace was very draughty and cold. One morning Bertie shivered as he slipped his toes into his slippers, and he said to himself.

“Brrr I’d like to fly away to somewhere lovely and warm this Christmas.”

And when he told this to Beatrice, she was simply thrilled at the idea of Bertie and herself on a romantic tropical island.

But her wicked step-mother wasn’t. No, not one bit. She didn’t like Bertie you see, even back then.

So the wicked step-mother thought about the best way to ruin Bertie and Beatrice’s holiday. And she came up with a simple but brilliant plan. She would come too.

Just before Christmas, the royal party of three flew away to an exotic tropical island – covered with palm and coconut trees, lapped by a turquoise sea as warm as a bath, and fringed with golden sand that was so hot that you had to wear flip-flops when you trod on it. They ate mango and passion fruit for breakfast, ice-cream for lunch, and fried fish for supper. In fact, it was so wonderful that even the wicked step-mother was quite happy to lie in the sun all day and take a rest from casting evil spells.

Bertie enjoyed lying on the beach and splashing in the sea with Beatrice. But after a few days he began to feel, well, just a little bit bored by such a slow life. After all, he was used to action and adventure. And on Christmas eve he decided to do something a bit more active. He decided to go wind surfing.

She kissed him. Bertie went all red and she said - Te he he-

He hired a board with a sail on it, paddled out to sea, and tried to stand up on it. But whoops – it wasn’t as easy as it looked, and splash ! – Bertie found himself back in the water. It took him more than a few tries to get going – but a true prince never gives up – and eventually he was standing on the board with the wind in his sail and and gliding across the sea. Beatrice clapped and cheered, and the wicked step-mother pretended to be asleep. He was gathering speed and sailing further out. He tried to change direction but wey-hey over he went, back into the sea. Bertie took a little rest before standing up again. While he was holding onto the board, still in the water, he felt something ticking his feet.

“Is that a fish?” he thought “…. Or is it a shark?” And just to be on the safe side, he started to heave himself up onto the board – but he was in a bit of a rush and wooooo … back into the water he went.

A little voice said “te-he-he” and Bertie thought that perhaps he was imagining things. But he wasn’t, because when he looked up he saw that a pretty girl with red hair was sitting on his board. And then he noticed that instead of legs, she was swishing a tail with silver scales.

“Come up, there’s room for two,” she said, and she held out her hand to Bertie. When they were both sitting up on the board Bertie said

“Oh golly gosh, a real live mermaid.”

And she said,

“Oh golly gosh, a real live prince”.

Kiss

And she kissed him. Bertie went all red and she said “Te he he”

And Bertie would have blushed still more had he known that back on the beach, the wicked step-mother had just handed her binoculars to Beatrice, and the princess was watching all that was happening.. She was, well, furious !

“Men ! she said. “What an earth does he see in that red-head? She’s half fish !”

But Bertie didn’t see anything in the mermaid. He just wanted to get back to Beatrice. And when the mermaid offered to swim behind the board and push him back to the beach, he gladly agreed.

She propelled him so fast that it was more like driving a motor-boat than a wind-board. When they reached the shore, the mermaid blew Bertie a couple of kisses, and then, with a flip of her tail she was gone, back into the sea.

Well I don’t need to tell you that Beatrice had a few things to say to Bertie about his rendezvous out at sea. Although she was the sweetest, most lovely princess alive, she could be cross too sometimes. She made him promise on his prince’s honour never to speak to another fishy-person again. In fact, the following day they would do what she liked doing – which was pony riding – safely away from the salty haunts of the mermaids.

So on Christmas Day, after they had exchanged presents, the three royals went to the stables to pick some ponies. Beatrice chose a dappled one called Snuffles because he was the cutest. The wicked step-mother chose a black one, because black was her favourite colour. And Bertie was just about to choose a white pony, when the step-mother said:

“Bertie – a prince can’t go out riding on a pony like that. He’s far too tubby and short in the leg. Cut a dash. Take the Arabian horse because he looks like he can really go some.”

And she pointed to the riding instructor’s horse. He did look magnificent, and full of life and spirit. The instructor said: “Oh no Ma’am. This is a very special horse. Only I can ride him.”

“Nonsense!” Outreached the step mother. Don’t you know who you are talking to? Bertie is a prince. He can ride any horse he chooses.”

And the instructor was afraid so he reluctantly agreed to swap with Bertie.

“That’s better,” said the step mother when Bertie was in the saddle, “Now let’s ride out over the cliffs. There will be wonderful views. Maybe we can spot a dolphin, or a whale, or perhaps even a mermaid.”

And at the word “mermaid” Beatrice gave Bertie one of her crossest glances.

The riding instructor shook his head and said, “Please, if I may be so bold as to give some advice, the cliff rout is only for experienced riders.”

“Good” said the stepmother “We ARE experienced.”

And with that she pointed her black pony towards the cliffs, which were quite a way off. First they cantered over the sand dunes and through the surf of the sea – Beatrice loved that because it was terribly romantic. Of course Bertie’s pony wanted to dash out in front, but he reigned him back so that he was riding along side his princess. They cut inland, along a path that meandered in and out of the jungle, but always upwards, and by mid morning they were out on the cliffs overlooking the sea. It was a narrow path, with the jungle on one side and the sea on the other. Sometimes they had to step over a fallen branch, and that was really scary, because the cliffs went straight down on the other side, and they wouldn’t want a horse to stumble. Then they came out to a flatter and clearer part. The sky was the truest of blues, and it was hard to say where it ended and where the sea began.

“Come on Bertie,” said the Wicked Step-mother, “I’ll race you.”

Bertie pulled in the reigns saying - Who- Whooooo - ; but the Pony would not stop. He galloped right up to the edge - and beyond !!!!

“Madam – I don’t advise” said the instructor – but she began to canter and then to gallop – and she called out “Come Scardy Cat” So Bertie kicked his horse – in a nice way to say “go” to the Arabian. horse.  And boy did he go. He shot past the stepmother and her black pond and sped on like an arrow to the edge of the cliffs. Bertie pulled in the reigns saying “Who- Whooooo” but the Pony would not stop. He galloped right up to the edge – and beyond !!!!

Beatrice screamed.

The Step Mother tried not to smile.

And Bertie closed his eyes : “If I’m lucky,” he thought, “And and if we land in some deep water, I might just make it out alive – but if we land on a rock, oh, that’s it. Beatrice my love – Goodbye ! ”

And he waited for the splash or the crash: But there was neither.

“This falling through the air’s taking a jolly long time,” he thought. “Am I wearing a parachute?” But he wasn’t. For when he opened his eyes, he found that he was no longer falling through the air on the back of a horse, but he was deep under water. All was blue and bubbly. And yet, he was still breathing…. and he was still riding. For the horse was no longer an Arabian Horse – but a Sea Horse.

The seahorse seemed to know where he was going – so Bertie just sat back and let him take him there- wherever “there” was. And what a journey ! Bertie had never seen so many different colours and wonderful things in his life. Curly corral, swirling sea anemones, and shoals of strange, funny, and scary fish.

Eventually they came to a great gate studded with pearls, diamonds, and other sparkly stones. It was guarded by two fierce Mermen with multicoloured beards flowing from their faces, and three-pronged weapons in their hands. The seahorse swam straight past them and into the underwater city

Inside the walls, there were crowds of beautiful mer-people – both men and women – some riding on seahorses, some swimming in pairs, mer-boy and mer-girl, hand in hand, and others chasing each other and doing underwater somersaults. The seahorse took Bertie through a long pearly alleyway, and at the end they came out into a beautiful underwater garden, full of the most lovely anemones – some like flowers, others like trees. From the other side of the garden they entered a great echoing hall made of gold. At the end of the hall, up on a thrown, sat a mermaid. She had red hair and a silvery tail.

From the other side of the garden they entered a great echoing hall made of gold. At the end of the hall, up on a thrown, sat a mermaid. She had red hair and a silvery tale.

She was the same mermaid who had kissed Bertie on the windsurfing board.

“Merry Christmas, My prince” she said. “You may dismount from your horse. Now come and sit up here beside me. There’s plenty of room for two.”

“And a Merry Christmas to you,’ said Bertie, but I’d better not stay down here. My Lovely Princess Beatrice gave me an awful ticking off about what happened yesterday.”

The mermaid flipped her hair from her face. “Human girls, are such jealous creatures. But there’s no need to be afraid. Even the wicked Step-mother can’t spy on you down here – now come, sit with me. I’m not a shark – or a sea monster – I won’t eat you!”

And so Bertie did as she asked and sat down next to the mermaid.

“Tell me,” he said, “Am I dead or alive? Because everything that’s happened to me in the last hour has been quite impossible”.

“Tich!” said the mermaid. “This is my kingdom, I’m Princess Calypso and nothing is impossible for me – except, it seems, finding a best friend.
You know that I’m every bit as much a true princess as your Beatrice – and yet here I am, all alone and nobody to play with . I need a true prince to live with me for ever in my beautiful city under the sea.”

“Oh No!” said Bertie. “Not Me! I’m engaged to marry Beatrice”

The mermaid shook her head. “My dear prince. The Wicked Step-mother will never let that happen. Look into this future mirror and tell me: what do you see?”

And Bertie looked into the mirror – and instead of his reflection, he saw a frog sitting on a lily leaf. The expression on the frog’s face looked, well, just a bit familiar. There was a family resemblance, you might say.

” Think again, ” said the mermaid. “For Beatrice’s Wicked Step-mother has plans for you, Prince Bertie…… The Frog”

“No, I don’t believe you. She wouldn’t dare. This mirror is nothing but a trick,” said Bertie, little knowing how wrong he was.

But Bertie soon realised that he had no way of returning to Beatrice. And so he became a prisoner of Princess Calyspo, and had to stay with her in her gilded palace. She loved to swim and dance with him, and to go riding on sea ponies. They ate seaweed and drank the milk of sea cows. And in the evenings, the mermaid princess either combed her long red hair, or played on her harp and sang:

But at night I would wander away, away,
I would fling on each side my low flowing locks,
And lightly vault from the throne and play
With the mermen in and out of the rocks;
We would run to and fro, and hide and seek,
On the broad sea wolds in the [1] crimson shells,
Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea.

They spent almost a week like this – and to tell the truth – everything was so new and interesting that Bertie did not have time to be bored. . But no matter how pretty or attentive Princess Calypso might be – she was no equal to his one and only princess Beatrice.

And then, on New Years Eve, when Bertie and Princess Calypso were playing hide and seek around the sea garden,
a merman in an suit of armour made of lobster shell rode into the city on his sea horse. He went directly to the throne room to look for the princess, and when she was not there, he came out into the garden and called :

“Calypso my lovely. It’s me, your beloved Prince Melrose, back from the War against the Crab People of Atlantis. ”

But Calypso didn’t answer. Only Bertie said:

“Oh, hi there.”

“And who might you be?” boomed Prince Melrose.

“Why, I’m prince Bertie – I’m just staying here, a guest of Princess Calypso.”

“A prince you say ! A guest of Princess Calypso ? Well in that case, I must fight you to the death, for the Princess is my fiancee.”

“Oh no need for fighting,” said Bertie. “You can have her all to yourself. I’d be glad to be off home.”

“What ! Are you saying that my mermaid isn’t goodlooking?”

“No, not at all.”

“Isn’t she the most divine and beautiful creature under the sea?”

“Well under the sea, perhaps, but up on land….”

” Put on your armor and mount your sea steed – for I challenge you to a jousting match.”

And just then Princess Calypso appeared from behind a coral reef and said:

“Oh how thrilling ! A jousting match !”

But to tell you the truth, Bertie wasn’t at all thrilled. No not one bit. For he had never jousted before on the back of the sea horse.

Anyone who was anybody in Mer-City came out to see the match – which took place in a courtyard in front of the palace.

Princess Calypso sat high up on a throne of gold, and the two princess sat astride their seahorses before her. She kissed her sash and threw it to Prince Melrose.

“I really don’t care a bit, ” said Bertie to his rival. “I told you that I have no interest in Calypso.”

“And for that insult to my Princess, I’m going to knock you off your horse and into Kingdom Come” said Prince Melrose, and he looked like he meant it.

The heralds sounded their conchs and the Princess took up their positions at either end of the courtyard. Bertie’s seahorse was the very same one that had brought him over the cliff and down into the city of the mer-people, and he wondered how much he could trust it. But he put such thoughts out of his head, raised his lance, and looked down it to the point and Prince Melrose’s breast-plate. His horse was chaffing at the bit, and it took Bertie all his strength to reign him in. Prince Melrose was snorting even louder than his horse. There was froth on his beard. He was a sea warrior to contend with.

Melrose came off his mount and was tumbling over and over and over through the water

Princess Calypso gave the signal – a wave of her handkerchief - and both the sea horses both knew what to do – they charged towards each other. Bertie understood it was complete madness to gallop headlong into a collision like this – both knights would be knocked senseless in the crash – and presumably Prince Melrose knew the same thing. It was just a question of who was the craziest – and who would give way at the last moment – Bertie leaned forward, to try and get his lance out a bit further and hit Prince Melrose first – his sea horse careered on – and Bertie realised that the horse was crazier than all of them put together. There was no point in reigning him in. And then Melrose and his horse swerved to the side, Bertie gave him a glancing blow with his lance – and Melrose came off his mount and was tumbling over and over and over through the water. All the Mer people gasped, the conchs sounded – And Bertie was triumphant

“Yes ” he said. ” I did it ! Or rather my, crazy horse did it for me – Na Na Na-NA NA! ”

He rode up to the Royal Box and Princess Calypso offered her hand for the victor to kiss

“Bertie. You were magnificent, ” she said. “Tomorrow is New Year’s Day. It shall be our wedding day.”

“Oh no it won’t,” said Bertie. “I mean no offence, but I’ve referred before to the fact I’m going to marry Princess Beatrice.”

“NO NO NO! Shan’t Shan’t Shan’t ! screamed Calypso. You’ll stay here with me for ever and a day !”

“Fine,” said Bertie. “It’s no problem for a prince to wait for ever and a day for his princess.”

But of course it was. And that night – even though the whole mer city was out partying – he wasn’t at all jolly as the clock struck twelve and announced a new year.

“Oh dear, ” said Bertie, “How many years make for ever ?”

“More than a few” said a voice, and Bertie turned round and saw that it was Prince Melrose. “You must forgive me, ” said Melrose, “I am a hot-headed warrior. A merman of action and few words. But I see now that you are as true to your Beatrice as I am to my Calypso. Our interests are one and the same. Come. Find your seahorse. I will show you the way back to dry land.”

And the mer-people were too busy celebrating the new year to notice the two princes riding out a secret gate in the City Wall. They rode for about an hour, until at last Bertie’s head rose above the water and he breathed fresh air for the first time in a week. His horse was again an Arabian horse and he swam with Bertie on his back towards the beach. Eventually Bertie rode out of the surf and onto the beach.

He found Beatrice in the tower of the palace that they had rented for the holiday. She was quietly sobbing to herself about the worst Christmas and New Year that she had ever had.

And then her prince walked in.

“There there,” he said. And at first she could not believe her own ears. Surely she was dreaming. But she wasn’t because her prince had returned.

And that’s the story of why Bertie doesn’t like Mermaids. But I suppose you are wondering what happened to Pearl the Mermaid who came to live on the pond. Well that all turned out well too. You see, the tadpoles kept on asking her all sorts of silly questions like:

“What did the sea say to the mermaid? ” the answer being,  “Nothing, it just waved.”

And Colin the Carp kept on offering to take her out to his favourite dead fly restaurant.

And Sadie the Swan kept on asking her for her autograph.

So Pearl decided that living on the pond wasn’t all that fun at all. And she decided to try the town swimming pool instead – and I can tell you that when she appeared on the end of the diving board, she created quite a stir.

So it all ended happily for everyone.

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Do you believe in ghosts?

Of course you do. And so does Bertie, because he was once haunted by one. It was Halloween, and Bertie’s annoying little brother dared him to sleep in the north tower of the Palace – which everyone knows is haunted. But fortunately the ghost turned out to be not the scary sort, more the nuisance type of ghost.

Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Duration 18.48

It was Halloween, which as you know, is a spooking time of year when ghosts and goblins come out and play tricks on people.

Tim the Tadpole was feeling just a bit frightened about the whole idea of Halloween. But he thought that if he could so something funny, that would help him forget about how frightened he really was.

So he swam up behind Bertie and said:
“Woooooooo !”

But Bertie didn’t shriek and shake with fright like like he was supposed to do. In fact he didn’t do anything at all. So Tim again said

Woooooooo !

Only louder.

Bertie  still didn’t move

And so Tim said,

“Bertie why aren’t you frightened when I come up behind you and say woooooo?”

Bertie opened his eyes – he had been dozing after a big lunch of flies and green slime.

“Because little Tim, if you want to truly frighten somebody, you need to go more like this:

‘WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOh!’

And Tim was so scared that he swam around the pond six times backwards.

He was still shaking and he said.

“Ooh, Bertie, that was so very scary. Just like a real ghost. In fact, I wanted to ask you – do ghosts really truly-wooly exist?’

“Oh yes,” said Bertie. “I know because once I was haunted by a ghost.”

And when he said that, Tim begged Bertie to tell the story of how he was haunted by a ghost.

It happened one Halloween when Bertie was still a small prince and lived in the palace. The royal family was eating pumpkin soup for dinner when Prince Harry, who was Bertie’s annoying little brother, said;

“Bertie I bet you are scared of ghosts.”

And Bertie replied.

“Don’t annoy me when I’m eating.”

But Harry went on:

“In fact, I bet you are far too scardy to sleep in the haunted room tonight.”

The haunted room was in the north tower, and legend held that anyone who slept there on Halloween would meet the Ghost of King George who had lived 400 years ago and had been murdered by his wicked step-mother. The last person who had slept in that room had been Bertie’s great- uncle Charles, and he had gone stark raving mad. For sure, Bertie didn’t want to sleep in the haunted room. But equally he didn’t want to admit that he was frightened. So he pretended not to be listening. But Harry wouldn’t stop. He started to chant:

“Scaredy -cat, scaredy scaredy scaredy ca!t”

The royal nanny told Harry to pipe down, but Bertie knew that he would have no princely honour until he dared to sleep in the haunted room. And so after dinner he took his pillow, his duvet and his soft toy giraffe over to the north tower and settled in for the night.

I don’t know if you have ever tried to stay the night in a haunted room, but it isn’t easy to get off to sleep. Every time the wind blows and the trees rustle outside your window you feel, well, just a bit like you are about to meet a ghost. And if you hear any creaking floorboards, that’s it. You are really frightened.

So Bertie didn’t sleep. He sat up in bed and waited for the ghost of King George.

And around midnight, he turned up. At first Bertie didn’t see him. He just heard him laugh. But it wasn’t a scary laugh. It was more deep and jolly like;

“Ho Ho Ho.”

And then the King appeared on the end of Bertie’s bed and said:

“Hey you heard this one? What do you call a witch who lives on the beach? A sandwich of course. Ha Ha.”

And Bertie laughed too, because the ghost was much funnier than he had been expecting.

“And how about this?,” went on the King.  “What do you get when you cross a black cat with a lemon?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Bertie

“A sour-puss ! HA! Oh dear. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you came to sleep here tonight. I haven’t shared a good joke with anyone in centuries.”

After that, Bertie and the Ghost sat up and told each other jokes and stories until it was almost dawn. They were both laughing so much that Harry could hear them, and his room was in a different tower all together.

When the sky was just starting to get light the ghost said, “Well I must be off now. But it would be so nice to spend a little more time having fun. I say, will you let me haunt you?”

Bertie said that he was awfully sorry, but he didn’t think it would do for a prince to be haunted. When he heard this, the ghost looked so awfully sad. In fact, he might have cried, only ghosts can’t cry. Bertie felt really really mean, and so he said:

“Well alright then. I’ll let you haunt me. But you must promise not to frighten anyone. Except for my pesky brother Harry of course…. And the royal nanny. It might be quite fun for her to see a ghost.”

And that’s how Bertie became haunted by the ghost of King George. Wherever Bertie went, the ghost went too. At first it was quite fun. When Harry tried to steal Bertie’s chocolate biscuits, the ghost slammed the tin shut on his fingers and made him go “ye—ouch!” And Harry was completely puzzled about how it had happened, because only Bertie could see the ghost.

Similarly, when the royal nanny went to the hairdressers, the ghost put green dye in the shampoo so that she came home looking like she had slime growing on her head.

And when Bertie was playing in goal for the palace soccer team, the ghost helped him save a penalty, and all the team’s supporters cheered Bertie to the sky.

But being haunted wasn’t all good. No. Not by any means.

Another time, Prince Boris, who bigger than Bertie and a bit of a bully, was giving Bertie some bother in the school playground. Bertie was trying to talk his way out of the situation, but the ghost came along and biffed Boris on the nose. Bertie and he had to go and see the headmaster and explain that it wasn’t him who had biffed Boris, but somebody else, and he couldn’t say who because that would be telling.

Unfortunately, the ghost had rather a silly sense of humour. Sometimes in class he would blow a raspberry at the teacher and Bertie would get the blame. And he also thought it was funny to put a whoopie cushion on the Queen Mother’s chair. And he liked splashing in puddles and getting Bertie’s school uniform all wet and muddy.

None of these things were so very bad, though Bertie was getting a little bit bored of the ghost and its tricks. And he was feeling rather tired because the ghost stayed up all night and told jokes.

And then one day the ghost went too far. It happened like this. The king who was Bertie’s father, wasn’t very strict in general, but he did have one rule. It was absolutely forbidden to touch his musket. His musket was like a very fancy gun, with gold plate and curly engravings. It hung above the fireplace in his study, and there it stayed. That was the rule.

But the ghost didn’t obey rules because he didn’t have to. He could do anything he liked, and nobody except Bertie would know that it was him who had done it.

One evening the ghost went through the wall into the King’s study and took the musket and brought it up to the top of the north tower. From there he had a good view of the Palace Gardens, and he started to use the musket to shoot the king’s vegetables. Splat ! went a prize pumpkin. Plop ! when one tomato after the other. And “ha ha ha !” went the ghost. The queen mother’s poodle came into the garden, and the ghost shot her too – fortunately he missed, but he almost scared the life out of her.

The King came outside to see what the noise was about, and he all he could see was the musket pointing out of the haunted room in the North Tower. The only person who ever dared to go up there was Bertie.

And so Bertie was in trouble. Big trouble.

He tried to explain that it was the ghost who had been shooting with the musket, but nobody would believe him. The king stopped his pocket money and banned him from watching TV for a whole month.

That was really it. Bertie was furious. He told the ghost that he couldn’t haunt him anymore because he was causing too much trouble. But the ghost just laughed and said that he liked haunting Bertie and Bertie could like it or lump it.

“Besides, it’s lonely up there in the tower not seeing a soul for hundreds of years on end. I’m having far too much fun to go back to that afterlife.”

And so Bertie was very sad and very fed up. He thought and thought about who could help him out of his predicament, and the only person he could think of was the palace librarian. The librarian read ever so many books and knew all about the history of the palace and the royal family. Perhaps he would know how to deal with the the ghost of King George. Or perhaps he would think that Bertie had gone nuts. It all depended on whether or not he believed in ghosts.

Fortunately, he did. “Why of course I believe in ghosts,” he replied when Bertie asked. “In fact, I was talking to one only the other day.”

“Not King George by any chance?” asked Bertie.

“No not that silly old fool,” said the Librarian. And as he was saying that, the ghost of King George was writing “Look behind you!” with a marker pen on the wall of the library.

“I met this particular ghost when I was visiting a library in a castle just north of here. Her name was Princess Beth and she was betrothed to King George, but his wicked step-mother murdered him before the wedding could take place. Sad story really. She’s still pining for her long lost lover after all these centuries, and she’s so terribly lonely.”

“I don’t suppose,”said Bertie, “that we could send our King George to live with Princess Beth in her castle.”

But the librarian shook his head. It was only possible for a ghost to move about if it haunted someone,, and nobody would wanted to be haunted by a ghost as mischievous as King George.

But Bertie was haunted by him already. And so the next day he took a royal train to the north of the country to visit the castle of Princess Beth. And because King George was haunting Bertie, he had to go with him.

And that’s the story of how the ghost of King George was reunited with his long lost lover, Princes Beth, and from then on they lived together in the castle in the north, and were happy playing games and telling each other jokes, and Bertie returned home, unhaunted, and free from ghostly bother.

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A touching and adventurous story about how Prince Bertie had a lion as a pet when he was still a boy-prince. With a nod of acknowledgment to Christian the Lion (YouTube).

More Bertie Stories…

Read by Natasha. Duration 19.57

I was walking along by the palace pond when I heard Tim the Tadpole’s squeaky voice saying: “Bertie can I have a puppy? Oh please Bertie. I would so love to have a pet to play with.”

Bertie was looking a bit stumped for a reply, because he doesn’t like to say “no” , but he can’t always do what Tim wants. Even though he used to be a prince, he can’t do everything. In fact, now that he’s a frog, most things are more difficult than ever: Except for hopping. And catching flies with his tongue.

But before Bertie could explain to Tim why it’s tricky for a tadpole to keep a puppy, Colin the Carp butted in:

“Oh dear. Is there no end to the silly questions of little tadpoles? You can’t have a pet that’s bigger than yourself. If you had a puppy, you would be the puppy’s pet – or his breakfast.”

“Oh yes you can have a pet that’s bigger than yourself,” said Bertie. “The Queen once had a camel and that was even bigger than her majesty.”

“Well you can’t have a pet that’s big enough to eat you,” said Colin. “And Tim wouldn’t even make a light snack for a puppy. He would be like a little morsel on the end of his tongue.”

“Oh yes you can have a pet that’s big enough to eat you,” said Bertie. “When I was a prince, I had a lion for a pet.”

‘Rubbish!” said Colin. “You’re just making up stories again,”

“Well I’m allowed to make up stories, “ said Bertie, “Because that’s what I’m best at. But this one happens to be true.”

And then Bertie told all the pond life the story of how he had a lion as a pet. I stopped to listen because it sounded jolly interesting..

One time when Bertie was still a small princeling, he went with his mother to the pet shop. This all happened in the good old days before the Wicked Queen took over and turned Bertie into a frog. Bertie’s mother was much nicer, all though a little bit eccentric, which meant that her ideas were sometimes out of the ordinary. She wanted to buy a camel because she thought it would look interesting roaming around the palace grounds. The shopkeeper considered himself to be a bit of a whit, so he said to the Queen:

“Ah yes Ma’am, a camel. Will that be one hump or two?”

The Queen gave the shopkeeper one of her stares, as if she meant his head to be chopped off. So he stuttered.

“Of course Ma’am. I do so apologise. Right now we are out of camels. But we do have all sorts of interesting animals fresh in from Africa. For instance, we have handsome lion cub. And a lion is rather more royal than a camel if you don’t mind me saying so.”

The Queen was about to say: “You silly little man! Lions are for statues, not pets” but Prince Bertie had already run over to the cub’s corner of the shop. He was so small, fluffy and cute, and he also looked just a bit sad to be living in a box. He gave Berte a tiny little roar like:

“Rawwwww !”

And so Bertie said:

“Mummy Mummy. Do let’s have a lion cub. I promise I’ll look after him all by myself. Honest I will. I’ll keep him with me always and we’ll be bestest friends.”

Bertie’s mother sometimes seemed a bit fierce, but she was a big softie really, and she thought that the lion cub looked very cute and harmless too. So she gave the shopkeeper a gold coin and they took the cub home to the palace.

Bertie called him Tiddles because he thought that was a funny name for a lion. The Queen said that it was alright for friends to call him Tiddles, but that he would have to have an official name too for special occasions. So she said that his proper name would be Leopold the First.

Leopold the First, or Tiddles as everybody called him, loved living in the palace. At night he slept in Bertie’s bed where he looked just like a fluffy toy lion. During the day he liked sitting on the roof and watching everyone come and go. Up there, he looked just like a statue of a lion, until he started to move and prowl along the battlements – which gave anyone who noticed a big surprise. At other times he went for walks around the palace grounds, and everyone agreed that he was far more interesting and royal than a camel would ever have been.

For breakfast, Tiddles ate raw steak. For lunch he ate raw steak. And for supper he ate raw steak.

And Tiddles grew. And he grew. And he became quite big.

But however big he became, he still loved Bertie. When he saw Bertie coming home from School, he would leap off the roof of the palace into the branches of a big oak tree, then he would climb down and bound up the drive to greet Bertie. He would jump up and hug him with his paws and lick his face. And then they would run into the grounds and play soccer together. Tiddles was great at dribbling the ball with his nose. Though one day when he was hungry he ate Bertie’s best football boots, but Bertie didn’t mind because he loved Tiddles so very much.

Anther game they liked playing was frightening the royal nanny. Tiddles and Bertie would both hide behind the curtains, and when they heard her coming along calling :

“Bertie. It’s way past your bedtime young prince!” The would both leap out and roar like this

RAAWWWWWWWWW!

And she would be so frightened that she would run off to her room and Bertie and Tiddles could say up for another half an hour and play.

But one day the King said to Bertie over breakfast:

“That cub of yours has become quite a lion. He’s already growing a mane. It’s time he went to the zoo.”

“The zoo!” said Bertie. “You can’t put Tiddles behind bars! And besides I love him ! You should think of my feelings too Daddy!”

Of course he king didn’t want to make Bertie sad, so he agreed that Tiddles could live in the palace a little longer. But then one day Tiddles did something that made the king cross. Very cross indeed.

He had just appointed a new prime minister. The Prime Minister and all the grandest and most important people in the land came to see the King in the palace.

And Tiddles was waiting for them. By now Tiddles wasn’t quite a grown-up lion but he was no longer a cub. By the standards of cats he was big. Well actually, he was huge. And if you didn’t know him, you would be quite scared to meet him. In fact, you would be terrified.

A big velvet curtain hung behind the throne, and sometimes Tiddles liked to sleep behind it. It was his hideaway place.

When the new ministers trooped into the throne room to meet the King, three musicians sounded their trumpets :

The sound woke up Tiddles and he thought that there would be a party with lots of music and games. So he strolled out from behind the curtains, stretched out his body, and then turned around to lick his bottom. In actual fact, he didn’t do anything very frightening at all.

But the ministers were frightened.

The Minister of War climbed out of the window and jumped into a rose bush where he tore his trousers on the thorns. The prime minister had more mettle than that, and he picked up a chair and held it out in front of himself like a lion tamer. Tiddles yawned and showed all his teeth. That was too much, the whole government including the Prime Minister leapt out of the widows.

The king was furious because they trampled all over his roses. He decided that he didn’t like the Government after all, so he sacked the lot of them and appointed some new ministers.
The next day the newspapers ran headlines like:

King throws ministers to the lions

And

Lion-Taming Prime Minister Gets Sack.

The king was furious when he read the papers, and he resolved that Tiddles must go immediately. The new prime minister, who had replaced the old one who had run away from Tiddles, said he thought that the best place for a lion would be Africa. In fact, everyone in the palace who loved Tiddles – and that was everyone except the royal nanny- all agree that it would be a wonderful thing to set him free in the wild where he could live the life of a real lion.

And so that’s what happened. The Minister for Nature put Tiddles on a flight to Africa. Before the plane left the tarmac, Prince Bertie came on board to give his pet a special goodbye hug. Then the plane flew Tiddles to Tanzania in East Africa . First he lived in a special sanctuary for lions. Then they released him into the wild. Bertie knew that things had turned out how they should, though he was very sad that he would never see his best friend again.

Three years later, the royal family chose a very special holiday. They went on safari in East Africa. They travelled across the open bush in four-wheel drive cars and saw all the wild animals. They had guides who carried guns just in case any creatures tried to attack them. At night they slept in tents under the stars.

One night they camped on the edge of the Ngorongoro Crater. The King and Queen decided to rest for the next day before continuing their safari.

Bertie had become friendly with the chief guide whose name was Joshua. He asked Joshua if had ever heard of a lion who had lived in a palace and been released into the wild. And to Bertie’s surprise, Joshua said that of course everyone who worked in the game reserve had heard the story of the royal lion called Tiddles.

Now he was a big strong grown up lion, and was the leader of his pride – which is like a group of lions .

He agreed to take Bertie the next morning to see Tiddles come down to his favorite watering hole. But he made Bertie promise to stay in the car, because Tiddles was a wild lion now and might be dangerous.

So Bertie got up at 5AM. Rosy red clouds still veiled the fierce African sun so that the air was still lovely and fresh. The great Ngorongoro crater was filled with mists so it looked like a witch’s cauldron. Then the treetops started emerge from the swirling brew. They got into the car and slowly drove down the winding route into the base of the crater. By now the sunlight was starting to play on the bark of the acacia trees. Zebra and deer were grazing in the long grass, always watching with their big glassy eyes for any suspicious movement that could be a big cat hunting for its breakfast.

Eventually they came to the watering hole where Joshua said that Tiddles like to come and drink sometimes. He didn’t come here every day, so they would need to be lucky.

And so they waited. And Bertie saw lots of beautiful pink flamingos. And he saw a hippo give the biggest yawn he had ever seen. And eventually the grass began to move and a big lion followed by three lionesses began to gamble down to the water. Although he was much bigger than when he had last seen him, Bertie knew right away that it was Tiddles. But Tiddles took no notice of the car. He was used to tourists and didn’t think to see who was inside. Instead he led his pride down to drink. Bertie wound down the window and called out “Tiddles” but still Tiddles didn’t hear him. So then Bertie did something very silly indeed. He forgot about Joshua’s warning, and he opened the door of the car and jumped out onto the ground. He started to walk towards Tiddles. Joshua immediately leapt out of the driver’s seat and trained his gun on Tiddles.

“Your Royal Highness,” he said. “You had better get back into the car. Just come back slowly. Don’t run. If you run they will attack you.”

But Bertie carried on walking towards the lions and called out “Tiddles, Tiddles, don’t you remember me? I’m Bertie. Your best friend.”

Tiddles took his mouth up from the water and looked round at Bertie. He stared at him for about half a minute, and then he started to bound towards him, with a great cat like spring in his step. Joshua squeezed his trigger but his gun didn’t fire. Dust had blown up from the wheels of the car had got into the gun and jammed it. It all happened so fast. Bertie didn’t have time to be afraid or to regret not taking Joshua’s advice.

Tiddles feet took off from the ground. He flew towards Bertie, wrapped his paws around him, and licked his face. Then Bertie and Tiddles did a kind of dance under the acacia trees. The friends were united and overjoyed to see each other once again.

And that’s the story of how Bertie had a pet lion, set him free in the wild African bush, and then went out to meet him again. Bertie says that if you are ever near a wild animal you must be ever so careful and follow all the instructions that you are given. Wild animals are very beautiful but very dangerous.

And don’t forget, there are loads more stories at Storynory.com. We have stories about Bertie, both when he was a prince and now that he’s a frog. We have other original stories about Theo the Monkey, Katie the Witch, and Gladys the songwriter. And we have loads and loads of traditional fairy tales, myths and legends. So drop by soon and listen to another one soon. For now, from me, Natasha, Bye Bye !

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The lovely Princess Beatrice has stayed true to her long lost prince Bertie for many a long day. But there was a time when she was seen walking in the Palace Gardens with another prince! Still worse, the Wicked Queen was determined to hold a Royal Wedding to boost the popularity ratings of the royal family. Bertie the Frog’s hopes of being turned back into a prince and marrying Beatrice were almost dashed into a million tiny pieces.

Read by Natasha. Duration 25 minutes.

It all started like this. Bertie was sitting on his lily leaf in the sun thinking that life as a frog wasn’t all that bad, when he saw Princess Beatrice walking in the palace garden with – another man !

Right away, he recognised the scoundrel as the smarmy Prince Boris. He liked to call himself Boris the Brave, and now Bertie heard his smarmy voice saying:

“And did you ever hear about the time I fought a seven-headed sea monster?”
“Er, no.” said Beatrice. “But I  suspect that I’m going to now..”

Boris started to tell a story which Bertie was certain was untrue, because anyone who has really fought a sea monster would know that they have nine heads, not seven – unless somebody had already cut two of them off, which seemed a bit unlikely.

“Oh dear,” said Bertie. “If the lovely Beatrice marries Boris, I won’t have any reason to go on living. I might as well just hop off and die.”

His only comfort came from Colin the Carp who was swimming by.

“I shouldn’t worry,” said Colin. “Beatrice looks bored silly by that Prince Boris the Boaster.”

A couple of weeks went by, and one evening Bertie saw Beatrice walking in the garden with yet another man. This time it was Prince Freddie from the next door Kingdom. Freddie was terribly brainy at maths, and he had known Beatrice since they were both little. In fact, he used to help Beatrice with her maths homework. Bertie knew this, and he was just a tiny bit jealous that another prince had been her friend for so long.

“Freddie dear” said Beatrice.

“Ah-oh” thought Bertie. “She called him ‘dear’”. Beatrice went on:

“Do you see that frog sitting on a lily leaf? It’s very strange, but sometimes when I see his funny little face, I can’t help thinking of my long lost Prince Bertie”.

Freddie chuckled when he heard this: “Indeed my dear, “ he replied. “How right you are. Bertie always was a bit froggy in the face.”

Bertie was outraged when he heard this. “See here!” he called out. “When I was a prince. I didn’t look in the least bit like a frog.”

But Beatrice and Freddie couldn’t understand what he was saying. All they could hear was “croak! Croak!”, and Freddie remarked:

“Now look– you’ve hurt the little frog’s feelings because you said he looked like Prince Bertie!”

Beatrice smiled for a moment, and then said, “Oh Freddie, don’t be so cruel. You know how dear Prince Bertie is to my heart.” And they both ambled back to the palace.

For the next couple of weeks or so, Bertie didn’t see any princes stepping out into the gardens with Beatrice, and he stopped worrying about Freddie and Boris. But up in the Palace, the Wicked Queen was plotting a royal wedding for her step-daughter. As usual, she had her own devious reasons. The King had recently put up taxes, and the royal family was becoming rather unpopular. The wicked Queen thought that a royal romance followed by a fairy-tale wedding would be just the trick to boost the royal ratings and make them popular with the people again.

“Now dear,” she said to the lovely princess Beatrice as she was brushing her hair one morning. “It’s high time you found a nice rich young prince and got married.

“But your Majesty,” cried Beatrice “Prince Bertie has disappeared and nobody knows where he is.”

“Prince Bertie!” spluttered the Queen. “You’re not still hankering after that old flame are you? Since the day he vanished, he hasn’t so much as sent you a postcard. Don’t you see that he’s forgotten all about you?”

“Forgotten me?” said Beatrice with tears in her eyes. “Oh, no he can’t have. My dear Bertie would never do that.. He’s on a top secret mission to save the country. He can’t let anyone know a thing about it. That’s what think, and I won’t believe anything different.”

“Poppycock!” cried the Queen. “Why don’t you just marry Prince Freddie. He’s got lots of money.”

“But, but Freddy’s boring.”

“Well what about Prince Boris.? He’s handsome and rich”

“But Boris boasts and tells fibs ! No, I won’t marry anyone but my dear Bertie. Not ever. I’ll wait a hundred years for him if needs be.” And with that, Beatrice got up and ran out into the garden.

The queen was furious, because she hated Bertie, and she certainly did not have any plans to turn him back into a prince and suffer him as her son-in-law.

“He’ll be telling those unfunny jokes of his over breakfast, oh no no no, we can’t have that. And riding around on that awful skateboard. Ugh! Its so unroyal ! And besides, he doesn’t approve of my wicked spells. Bertie… He’s out of the question… But Beatrice won’t let him out her thoughts. Poor deluded girl.”

The Wicked Queen thought and thought about the problem for six whole days – but still no solution came to mind.

On the seventh day, she was having her breakfast with the King when he exclaimed:

“Oh Gosh. Oh Golly. For a moment I thought that was Bertie back from the dead!”

And he tapped his newspaper. The queen looked over his shoulder and saw a picture of Bertie – only it wasn’t actually Bertie – it was somebody else who looked just like him.

His name was Norman Crompton and until recently he lived in a castle. The newspaper reported that he had just sold his ancient home including the beautiful deer park that surrounded it. The company that had bought Crompton Castle planned to knock it down and build a multi-storey car park in its place.

The picture showed Norman cracking open a bottle of champagne. You see, the property company had paid him a lot of money for his castle.

“His heart seems to be in the right place” remarked the queen.
“Yes, in his wallet !” laughed the King.

Later that day, the Queen asked her chief spy to find Norman Crompton’s mobile phone number for her. When he reported back with the number, she sent him a text message;

“Hi Norman. How would you like to marry the lovely Princess Beatrice and inherit the Kingdom? All you have to do is pretend to be Prince Bertie. Yours, the Wicked Queen.”

Norman texted back right away:

“No kidding? Of course I would – just so long as Bertie doesn’t turn up.”
And the queen replied:

“Don’t worry. He’s with the fishes.”
By which Norman understood that Bertie had met a watery grave – because how could he have guessed that he had been turned into a frog? That was the Queen’s closely guarded secret.

That evening, she took Beatrice into a quiet corner of the palace and whispered some very important news to her. Only it wasn’t true news, it was a pack of fibs that she had made up. She claimed that Bertie was about to come back from his top secret mission. She said that this had been told to her that morning by her chief spymaster. He was due back in exactly a month’s time, and the day after his return Beatrice would marry him.

Beatrice was so excited when she heard the news that she didn’t know what to do with herself. As soon as the Wicked Queen had left her, she ran out into the garden and down to the pond.

“Oh dear little frog!” she exclaimed to Bertie. “All this long while that Bertie has been away, I’ve poured my heart out to you. And now, do you know what? He’s coming back! Yes it’s true ! The Queen told me herself. And in a month’s time we are to be wed ! I’m so excited I just want to laugh and cry, dance and lie down, shout and keep my mouth shut, all at the same time.
“
And that’s how Bertie felt too. You see, he really believed that the wicked Queen had decided to turn him back into a prince so that he could marry Beatrice after all.  You see, sometimes, when you really want something to happen with all your heart, you are ready to believe even the most unlikely fibs that people tell you.

When he told the little tadpoles about Bertie’s news, they swarmed around in circles and shouted

Yippeeeee !

Sadie the swan said, “Oh Bertie ! A true fairy tale ending. What on earth shall I wear ?”

And even Colin the Carp said,

“Congratulations”

Which is highly unusual, as he’s normally he’s ever so grumpy . Then he added”

“I don’t suppose any fish will be on the invitation list.”
The month went past terribly slowly for both Bertie and Beatrice. The day before the wedding was due to take place, Beatrice was looking out of her window when she saw a gold carriage and six white horses pull up outside the palace. And out of the carriage stepped Prince Bertie:

“Oh dear dear Bertie!” she said to herself “How I long to run and kiss your sweet face, even if it is a bit froggy like Freddie said.”

But Beatrice had been forbidden to speak to Bertie until the moment of her wedding. Both the King and Queen said it was a strict tradition and if she broke it, it would mean terrible bad luck for their future.

And Bertie also saw the golden coach arrive. And although he couldn’t see Norman step out – Elsa the Palace Cat did. She knows all the palace gossip and never misses a thing. She ran straight down to the pond with the news.
“Guess what Pond Life,” she murred, “The wicked queen has found somebody called Norman who looks just like Prince Bertie. Beatrice is going to marry him tomorrow and she will never know the difference.”

“I thought that something like that would happen,” said Colin. “If the Wicked Queen went to all the trouble of turning Bertie into a frog, why would she want to turn him back in a prince again? I should think that life up in the palace is much less annoying without Prince Bertie around.”

But Bertie wasn’t listening. He did not know what to do, but he knew he had to do something – so he hitched a lift back up to the palace on Elsa’s back, and she took him all the way up to Beatrice’s door. She meowed and the lovely Princess let her in.

“Oh Elsa, “ she said. “You’ve brought me my lucky frog. He probably wants some water. I’ll run a cold bath for him”

But Bertie didn’t fancy a cold bath. Instead, he hopped onto her dressing table and croaked his heart out. Beatrice was quite puzzled. He had seemed to glad when she had first spoken of the wedding, and now that her happiness was almost fulfilled, her frog was upset about something. If only she could understand what all his croaking was about?

That night, she could hardly sleep with excitement. In the morning the maids came in and helped her get into her wedding dress and look at her most radiant and lovely for the wedding. One of them took a broom and tried to shoe Bertie out of the bathroom, but Beatrice just managed to stop her in time before she really hurt the poor little frog. In fact, when she went down to her carriage, she ordered the maid to bring him to the wedding.

“Eee – Yuck ! “ she said as she picked him up.

Bertie had never felt so low in all his life. He felt even sadder than on the day he had been turned into a frog.

Here he was travelling in a golden carriage to his own wedding – only it wasn’t going to be HIS wedding – he was only going to watch his dear princess marry somebody called Norman who happened to look rather like him – and all because of the Wicked Queen !

As Beatrice entered the church, the orchestra played “Here Comes the Bride”. Her great-uncle Prince Evan took her arm and led her down the isle to where Norman and the archbishop were already waiting for her. As she stood side by side with Norman in front of the alter she said ever so softly into his ear:

“Darling Bertie: It’s so wonderful that you are back. All the time you’ve been away, I’ve been wondering one thing:”

“And what was that my dear” whispered Norman, trying as best as possible to sound like Bertie. And princess Beatrice whispered

“Why didn’t the skeleton go to the party?”

“I don’t know. Why didn’t the skeleton go to the party?”

“Don’t you know? Because he had nobody to go with. … alright then, which ghost has the best hearing?”

“I don’t know my dear. Which ghost does has the best hearing?”
“Why, it’s the eeriest of course!”

Just then, the archbishop cleared his throat to get their attention. And he began the ceremenony. He asked Norman

“Do you, Bertie, take Betrice to be your lawful wedded wife.”

“And do you, Beatrice, take Bertie to love, honour and Obey”

And Beatrice replied.

“No way!”

“Why ever not?” asked the Bishop

“Because he’s not my Bertie. He’s an imposter! Guards Seize him!”

The wicked Queen jumped up and screamed”

“Guards. Do no such thing. My step-daughter’s gone out of her sweet tiny mind!
But the King said,

“No, No No. Guards Do Seize Him. ! She’s right you know – that isn’t Bertie. Whoever he is, he’s an imposter!”

And then speaking to the Queen he said,

“You see my dear: I had an inkling last night over dinner that there was something not quite right with that young man. I couldn’t put my finger on it – but now Beatrice has said he’s not Bertie – I see that she’s spot on. Do you recall him over dinner? I asked him what he had been up to while he was away, and he replied “Father, I wish I could tell you but it’s a secret.”

Well that was pretty strange because if there was one thing Bertie could never keep, it was a secret. And then later on, he only ate one helping of chocolate pudding. That was most unlike himself. I thought he must be off colour – nerves about the big day – but no, now I see that it’s because he’s not Bertie.”

And the wicked Queen was afraid that her secret would be found out. So she let the guards drag poor Norman off the palace dungeons. Later on, he escaped – but only after she turned him into a mouse.

When the guards had hauled the imposter out of the cathedral, there was a huge uproar and loads of confusion among the people. The King made a long speech to calm everyone down – in fact lots of them became very bored and either left or nodded off. While he was doing this, Beatrice spoke to her luck frog:
“Dearest little frog,” she said.

“I knew you were trying to tell me something – only I could not quite understand what it was. It was only when I stood side by side with the supposed “Prince Bertie” that I felt troubled. I sort of felt it wasn’t him. And so to make sure, I asked him two of Bertie’s favourite riddles. He didn’t know the answers – even though Bertie had told them to me thousands of times. Then I knew for sure that he was an imposter.

But it was you, dear frog, who first put me on my guard. I’m so grateful I could kiss you:

And with those works, she began to raise Bertie , sitting on the palm of her hand, to her lips.

Bertie closed his eyes and thought:

“Yes! the Lovely Princess Beatrice is about to kiss me at long last, and I will be turned back into a prince.”

But unfortunately, the Wicked Queen saw what was about to happen and

Kerpow !

She pointed her wand at Bertie and shouted

“Eat Slime” at the very second that Beatrice’s lips touched Bertie’s head.
And that was enough to prevent the kiss working, and poor Bertie didn’t turn back into a Prince – he remained a frog and had to hop off back to his pond.

But that evening he wasn’t too sad – because at least he had prevented a lovely princess marrying the wrong person. And there was still chance that one day he would turn back into the True Bertie and marry his Princess.

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The Chinese Year of the Rat begins on February 7th 2008, (the last rat year was 12 years ago, in 1996). Bertie is celebrating the new year with a special story.

Rats are not exactly the most lovable creatures on earth, and when one was found in the palace kitchens recently, there were screams all round. The rat escaped to the pond where Prince Bertie the Frog lives, and Sadie the Swan demanded that he be expelled forthwith. But rats have rights too you know !

If you are interested in the Chinese Years named after animals, you can try this story. which explains how they got their names. We also have a video about the Aesop Fable – the Rat and the Elephant.

Read by Natasha. Duration 7.30.

The other day Bertie asked me to pop up to the palace kitchens to see if I could find him a nice piece of cheese. As you probably know, frogs don’t normally eat cheese, but Bertie is no ordinary frog – after all, he used to be a prince.

“Oh Natasha,” he said, “Green slime for dinner is all very well, but I do so miss the taste of a nice piece of creamy cheddar cheese with just a little tang to it. Be a dear, and see if you can find me some up at the palace.”

But before I reached the door of the kitchen kitchen, I heard a scream from inside. At first I thought that perhaps someone had seen a ghost, because there are a few of those hanging around the palace, but then I heard the cook call out “

“Rat ! Rat RAAAAAAAT!”

The door was open a crack, and a moment later a grey creature with a pink nose squeezed through the opening and scuttled down the corridor. It almost ran over my toes .

I couldn’t help myself. I said

“EEEEEEEEK” !

Because although some of my best friends are animals, I can’t say I’m all that fond of rats. In fact they are probably my least favorite creatures of all, apart from cockroaches, and spitting cobras, oh yes, and I”m not so keen on jellyfish either.

[Audible Insert]

There was such a commotion inside the kitchen that it didn’t seem the right moment to wander in asking for a piece of cheddar, and so I went back down the garden to tell Bertie and the Pondlife what I had just seen – a rat inside the royal palace. Whatever next?

When I arrived at the pond, I found that the birds, fish, and amphibians who live their were holding a meeting. Sadie the black Swan was speaking and when she speaks, everyone listens, because she has what is called a very commanding presence.

“This is not a village pond,” she said. “It’s a royal pond. And there is no place here for a common, vulgar creature who belongs in the sewer.” .

A Canada Goose said “honk honk! “ And all the ducklings and cygnets – those are baby swans – cheeped and twittered in agreement. Only Colin the Carp said,

“Humph. She thinks she’s our Queen, she does.”

It was only then that I noticed that that not far away, the rat was hiding in the reeds. His little pink nose was twitching, and I could see that he was frightened. To my surprise, I actually felt quite sorry for him.

“I say  we should expel the rat forthwith!” said Sadie. And the water fowl honked, quacked and twittered even louder than before.

I thought the rat was done for, but then Bertie began to speak.

“Quiet. Quiet!!” he called out. And gradually the noise died down.

“Now Sadie is quite right,” he said, “When she says that this is a special pond. It is indeed a Royal Waterway, and nobody is a greater patriot for a pond than myself. But I think I know a thing or two about being royal. After all, I used to be a prince. And let me tell you something.

First of all, a true Prince never turns anyone away because of the way they were born. It doesn’t matter if you are a peacock or a rat all creatures are equal. That’s the prince’s code. Except for dragons of course. We can’t have them around the place, because it’s our duty to fight them. But that’s a different matter.

Now let me tell you a secret. I might be a frog, but I was born in the Chinese Year of the Rat. And if a prince can be a rat – as well as a frog – then I say that rats have just as much right to live in a royal place as anyone.

As it happens, creatures who are born in the Year of the Rat are rather nice. They are smart and ambitious and easy to like.
And now here’s another thing. It just so happens that this year is the Year of the Rat . And do you know what that means?.. It means that Rats are lucky this year ! And what’s more, to turn a rat away from our pond in the Year of the Rat would bring very bad luck indeed. So I say, Let’s hold a New Year’s Party for the Chinese Year of the Rat. And let’s invite our new friend to be our guest of honour!

And everyone honked and squawked and twittered even loader than before. The little tadpoles did somersaults in the water and even Colin the Carp was so moved that there was a little tear in his eye.

Sadie said, “Oh Bertie. You’re so dignified. Now I see that it is indeed truly gracious to be kind to all creatures, even if they are yucky.!”

And at the party, everyone ate loads and loads of green slime, except for the Rat and Bertie, who stuffed themselves with a huge piece of cheddar cheese which I brought down from the palace specially for them.

And that’s the story of how the one of the most ugly and hated creatures on earth was granted sanctuary on the pond. Because it’s a royal pond that lives by the Prince’s Code – by the Royal Diktat of Bertie.

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Perhaps you know that Colin the Carp is an extremely grumpy fish. He is so grumpy that he doesn’t even like Christmas. In fact, he says it’s total misery.

And so when Tim the Tadpole asks Colin what he would like for Christmas he says, “I want to be alone.” It just so happened that the Christmas fairy overheard Colin make his wish, and when Santa came down to the pond, he scooped up Colin and took him over to another pond where he could be all alone.

At first Colin is happy with his present, but then he starts to have second thoughts….

Read by Natasha. Duration 18.03

It was getting round to that time of year, and all the little tadpoles who live in the pond were very, very, very excited. “Yippeee ! they were saying “We’re going to have lots and lots and lots of green slime for lunch – and presents, and games, and wrapping paper.”

“Oh hark the little tadpoles,’ said Colin from beneath a stone. “No they’re going to have wrapping paper in a pond ! That’s really intelligent. It’s not as if paper is going to get at all soggy in the water.”

Prince Bertie the Frog was sitting on a stone watching all the tadpoles swimming in somersaults and circles, and he was starting to feel quite Christmassy. At this time of year, he always remembers the lovely princess Beatrice, how, when he was still a prince, they used to walk hand in hand over the frosty lawns and round the palace ponds , and she would ask him,

“Bertie darling, dearest, do you think that fish get cold in winter? I”m quite sure that I saw that big ugly carp shiver. Poor thing. No wonder his face looks so grumpy. Can’t we get the water heated for the pond life?”

And Bertie would say,

“My precious petal. You are truly the sweetest princess in the whole wide world. But don’t worry yourself on account of the frogs and fishes. They aren’t like humans. They don’t mind the cold at all.”

But now that poor Prince Bertie has been turned into a frog, he knows differently. “Brrr.” he said. “If only I could have a nice hot bath.’

Colin overheard Bertie saying this and said: “Ah ! At long last a voice of reason ! Bertie, you and I are the only sensible creatures in this pond. Doesn’t all this merry Christmas stuff drive you crazy? It’s the coldest, darkest, most boring time of the year, and everyone keeps telling you to be happy. ! UUUUGH ! “

“Well actually, I’m afraid I can’t agree with you there,” said Bertie. “Christmas is cold in this part of the world, but it is merry! “

“No it’s not,’ said Colin. “It’s a pain.’

“Yes it is Merry.” said Bertie. “It’s a time of a goodwill to all creatures on earth.”

“Rubbish! “ said Colin.

Just then, Tim, who is a tiny Tadpole, swam up to Colin’s left nostril and said

“Oh Mr. Carp. What do you want for Christmas?”

“That’s easy.” said Colin glumly. “I want to be alone.”

Now, as Bertie always says, you should never wish for something unless you truly want it in your heart – for you never know, your wish might come true, and they you will be sorry. And it so happened that the Christmas fairy was swimming past when Colin asked to be alone, and she heard this wish, and reported it back to Santa. And on Christmas night, when santa came down to the pond with a sack full of fresh green slime for all the pondlife, he scooped up the sleeping Colin into a bucket of water, and took him over to another pond at the other end of the garden. A pond where nobody lived except a gold statue of a cherub. And the cherub didn’t really live at all. He just spouted water out of his mouth.

“Yo ho-ho” said Santa. “There you are carp. Santa always delivers. This Christmas you shall be all alone !”

And in the morning, Colin opened his sleepy eyes and said to himself. “Oh no. It’s the worst day of the year. Those tadpoles will soon be singing christmas carols. I think I’ll just hide under a stone until it’s all over.”

But after a while, he couldn’t help noticing that the pond was strangely quiet. He swam around a bit, and found that it was wonderfully free of stilly tadpoles, quacking ducks, stuck-up swans, and deluded frogs who think that they are princes.

“This is fabulous! “ said Colin. “Just listen to that peace and quiet. Santa must have heard my wish and given me my own pond for christmas ! That’s because I’ve been such a good carp all year round. Thank you Santa ! I’m truly grateful. The only problem is….it’s just perfect. What am going to grump about ? Oh never mind that. I’m…. I’m…. I’m happy!”

And he even did a little dance in the water, because nobody was looking, and he really was happy to be alone for once.

In the Royal Palace, all the children who live there were very excited about all the presents waiting to be opened under the Christmas tree. But the wicked queen was in a furious mood, because she simply hates Christmas, even more than Colin does.

She went into the kitchen where the cook and her helpers were all working hard making lunch. And the Queen screeched.

“Not turkey ! I hate turkey ! It’s the stupidest bird that was ever eaten!”

“Oh madam, “ said the cook. “I ordered the turkey weeks ago. There’s nothing else for lunch.”

“Well let everyone else stuff themselves silly with turkey and roast potatoes. A queen has to mind her figure. I want something healthy. I want, I want….. er fish. In fact, I want poached carp with a little sprig of parsley.”

And with those words, the Wicked Queen swept out of the kitchen and went up stairs to shout at the children.

Princess Beatrice loved Christmas day more than any other day in the whole year. She was just coming back from church when she decided to take a little walk around the ponds and remember her long lost Prince Bertie. Her happiness was tinged with a sadness as she thought about her handsome prince whom she hadn’t seen for quite a while, but she was sure that he would return one day from a brave quest and they would be married and live happily ever after.

At the edge of the garden, she stopped at the pond where Colin was enjoying his solitude. Even though he was happy, his face still looked grumpy. It was just made that way.

“Poor fish.,” said Beatrice. “He’s all on his own on Christmas Day. I”m sure he’s the same one I’ve seen many times before on the other side of the garden, in that slimy pond where they funny looking frog lives. I know. I’ll go and get a net and a bucket, and I’ll take him back to the other pond so he can have some company. That will be a lovely Christmas present for him.”

Colin heard this and he said, “Oh no. Your Royal Highness. That’s not what I want at all….” But Beatrice couldn’t understand what Colin was saying, because he’s just a fish, and besides, he was speaking under water.

Instead, she turned around and hurried back to the palace to look for a bucket and a net.

At the same time, the cook was wondering where she was going to find a carp to poach for the Wicked Queen’s lunch. As it was Christmas day, all the shops were shut – even the special shops that work by Royal Appointment. Then she remembered that she had seen a fat carp swimming around one of the ponds in the garden, and she went out to look for him.

In his pond, Colin was feeling his usual grumpy self again. “Oh well,” he said to himself. “Soon that air-headed princess will be fishing me out of here and taking me back Bertie’s pond. That’s what I hate about Christmas. If people laid off doing good deeds and minded their own business, we would all be a lot happier.”

Then he heard a voice – but it wasn’t princess Beatrice’s – it was the cook, and she was saying”

“There he is. He’s an ugly brute, but he’ll look a lot better when he’s on a plate with a spring of parsley in his mouth. I’ll tell the kitchen boy to come down here with a net and fish him out.”

“What’s this? Said Colin. “On a plate with a spring of parsley in my mouth? Oh No ! Christmas truly is the worst day of the year – and it looks like it’s going to be my last day ever ! “

He started to swim around in a panic, looking for somewhere to hide, but the pond was not like the one where Bertie lived. There was no slime, no muddy bottom, not big rocks. It was just full of pure, clean water. In fact, it was the worst place in the entire world for a fish to hide in.

Soon Colin felt himself being lifted up through the air. He was wriggling and fighting and gasping for breath, but he just got his fins tangled in the net. And then Plop ! he was dropped, not even into a bucket, but a plastic shopping bag full of water.

“The indignity of it,” said Colin. “Carried to my own funeral in a shopping bag. Merry Christmas !”

It was very dark inside the bag, and he couldn’t see where he was going. Then the motion stopped. They had arrived. He got ready to whack the cook around the face with his tail.

“At least they will say that Colin the Carp went down fighting,” he said himself.

The bag turned upside down, and all the water and Colin with it went slopping out

“That’s it !” thought Colin. “Straight into the cooking pot !”

Splash !

And all his scales tingled with lovely cold water.

“Ooh Look,” said a squeaky little voice. “There’s Colin. He’s come out of hiding.”

And all the little tadpoles were swimming around him singing,

“We wish you a merry Christmas, We Wish you a merry Christmas.

And Princess Beatrice said

“Merry Christmas Pond Life”

The cook didn’t make poached carp for the Wicked Queen’s lunch, because when she went back to the pond, Colin had mysteriously disappeared. But it didn’t matter, because the Queen decided to skip Christmas all together, and she went up to her room to read up on wicked spells.

And as for Colin, for the first time in his long, grumpy life, he has a very, very, very, merry Christmas because he was so glad to be alive and with his friends.

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In these three short stories, Sadie the Swan takes The True Princess Test, the Pond Life are haunted by a Ghost Swan, and Bertie sees off Barker the Dog.

We first published the stories, right at the beginning of Storynory in November 2005. They formed introductions to our Christmas Carol Pantomime in three parts. This Christmas we decided to edit the Bertie stories out of audio, so that our listeners can get straight to Scrooge. Many of our new listeners won’t have heard them, and many of our long-standing faithful listeners won’t have heard them for a while – so we are republishing them here. We’ve added a little jazzy music for Pond Life atmosphere.

Bertie fans will notice that Colin the Carp has a slightly different voice. This is because he is played by Rob who took the part of Scrooge in the pantomime.

All other voices by Natasha. Duration 9.48 minutes.

(We are afraid that the texts have been lost to posterity in the mists of time)

Download the MP3 Audio of Agent Bertie

You will only hear this on Storynory because it’s Top Secret. Natasha exclusively reveals that before Bertie was turned into a frog, he worked as a Secret Agent. He was sent by his father the King on a mission to a far away kingdom called Wales. His task was to stop the Wicked Step-mother firing a rocket filled with sewage and other smelly stuff at the King’s annual summer garden party. He was aided by the lovely Princess Beatrice, but we will only add that it’s a jolly exciting story and if you want to find out what happened you’ll have to listen to it.

Read by Natasha. Duration 20.53.

A few summers ago, when Bertie was still a human prince and lived in the palace, he was just a little bit bored because the only thing his father the king would talk about was his annual garden party. The theme that year was to be “Sweet Smells” and all the sweetest smelling people in the Kingdom were to be invited. Most of them were girls, as it turned out. There were to be sweet smelling flowers with sweet smelling blossom, and the most fragrant honey and different types of aromatic teas – and the gardeners were busy clearing all the green slime out of the pond and pouring perfume and aftershave into it to make it smell nicer. Colin the Carp wasn’t at all pleased – but Bertie didn’t know him then – and Tim the Tadpole wasn’t even born.

In those days, Bertie had yet to set eyes upon the lovely Princess Beatrice. She and her wicked step-mother still lived in a far away place called Wales. I think I told you about that once before.

Well if the truth be told, there was a bit of a stinky whiff wafting around the castle where Beatrice lived with her step-mother. It was suffering from blocked drains, you see, and that summer, they were very blocked indeed.

The newspapers reported that the lovely Princess Beatrice was going around with a clothes peg on her nose. At first, when Bertie’s father read about this, he almost laughed his head off:

“I was planning to invite the lovely Princess Beatrice to my garden party,’ he said. “But I don’t think I had better risk it, because she probably pongs to high heaven.”

When the Wicked Queen heard about this insult, she was furious, ‘So that stupid old King thinks my daughter smells does he? Well before the summer’s out we’ll see who’s the biggest stinker of them all.’

So the wicked queen commanded all the top scientists, wizards, and druids in Wales to concoct the stinkiest, foulest, most pungent pong – ever created, and then, to load the pong into a rocket. And when this was done, she gave a note to her ambassador to deliver to Bertie’s father. It read:

“Invite or stink !’

When he received this note, Bertie’s farther flew into a frightful rage: He stood up from his throne and railed at the Ambassador “Kindly inform that malign, maledictive, malodorous, Queen of yours, that we don’t give into blackmail here, or even to Stink Mail. She and her smelly daughter aren’t invited to my party, so there!’

But at night he couldn’t sleep for worrying about the stink bomb landing on his summer garden party and all his fragrant guests being covered in foul-smelling sewage, or whatever the Wicked Queen meant to drop on them.

And that’s why Prince Bertie, who was hanging around the palace looking just a bit bored, was summoned. The king sent him to Wales on a Top Secret Mission to Stop the Stink. Bertie had to choose a disguise, and he decided upon a travelling jester.

And so Bertie arrived at the Wicked Queen’s castle, and presented himself as an entertainer, who wondered the highways and byways on his skateboard, telling funny stories and performing clever tricks.

That evening after dinner, he was invited before the royal family. Bertie did a little dance and shook his floppy hat with a bell on the end. Then he made a bow, and waited for a ripple of warm, welcoming applause. The king yawned. Bertie saw this, and his mind went blank – even more so than usual – and he couldn’t remember a single joke, even though he was usually brimming with them. After about half a minute’s silence, the Wicked Queen said:

“He’s useless. Dump him in the dungeon..”  But… but…” protested Bertie, I’m just having a bad day. Usually I’m the funniest jester alive.” But the guards were already sweeping him towards the door.

“Hey, have you heard this one?” called out Bertie. “What sort of dog doesn’t smell? One without a nose. Ha Ha! And can you say Iced Ink very fast several time over?

The lovely Princess Beatrice said, “Oh please don’t take him away. He’s rather sweet, even if his jokes aren’t really that funny”.

Meanwhile the king was muttering to himself, “Iced ink Iced ink, I stink”

“Ha Ha Ha, “You said you stink!” called back Bertie.

“Take him away” said the Queen in a very bored voice. “I believe cell number five is free. The last unfunny idiot who was in that one departed yesterday -…. may his soul rest in peace. Ha !.”

The guards took Bertie to the prison in the cellars of the castle, opened up a hatch in the floor, and pushed him in. Down down down, he fell. “Oh no, this place is very dark and there’s a funny smell. I wonder how far I’m going to fall?” thought Bertie. And then Boing! He landed on an old bed, and the legs immediately collapsed. But at least he wasn’t too hurt. All he could see was a little shaft of moonlight from a window near the top of the cell. Around midnight, a guard opened the hatch and called out “dinner”. He dropped down a cold, half eaten burger and a carton of orange drink. “Enjoy your Big Value Meal Deal.” called out the guard. “Sorry I ate half your burger and all of your apple pie.”

“Oh dear” said Bertie. I should have told them the joke about the man who went to the doctor and said he felt like a parrot….. That one always makes everybody laugh. But now I’m going stay in this dungeon till I rot and die. Oh I wish I had never become a secret agent. It’s not nearly as much fun as it sounds.’

Towards morning, when it was just getting light again outside, he felt something tickling his nose.

“Is that a mouse?” he thought

And then he heard a sweet little voice whispering “Jester, oh Jester, Please wake up”.

“A mouse that talks?” thought Bertie. But then he realised that the voice was coming from up above. He rubbed his eyes, and saw that it wasn’t a mouse that was tickling his nose, but a silk rope dangling from the hatch door.

“Quick. Climb up” whispered the voice, which he now recognized as belonging to the lovely Princess Beatrice. Quick as he could, Bertie shinned up the silk rope and out through the hatch. Beatrice quickly untied the other end one at the window bars, and they ran out before the guard came back from the changing room.

Beatrice led Bertie out of the castle and onto the dewy grass of the King’s daffodil garden.

Bertie looked gratefully at the lovely Princess Beatrice and said, “Now I know that the you are the bravest and cleverest princess in the entire world, as well as the loveliest”.

“Well don’t tell anyone or I’ll be in super big trouble,” said Beatrice. And Bertie promised not to tell a soul. She led him down the path to a secret gate in the wall, but as Bertie was about to go through it, he remembered that he had come to Wales on A Mission. He wondered if he could let Beatrice into his secret.

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and said, “Now jester, you’d better be off before we both get caught.”

“I don’t mean to shock you,” said Bertie, “But I’m not a jester – not really.”

“Really? I’d never have guessed” said Beatrice sarcastically – “Your jokes were so side-splittingly hilarious.”

Bertie was about to tell her the truth: that in fact he was a secret agent, and that he had come to stop her wicked step-mother firing a rocket full of foul-smelling sewage onto his father’s summer garden party. But at that moment they heard a terrible voice screech out:

“There they are ! Seize them!” And they were surrounded by snarling dogs. The Wicked Queen, still in her dressing gown, said, “Well well well. Romeo and Juliet.”

And she ordered her guards to grab hold of both Princess Beatrice and Prince Bertie.

“Oh no!” thought Bertie. “I’ll never get away now.”

Two whole days went past. Bertie sat in darkness at the bottom of the dungeon. He knew that it was the date of his father’s garden party, that he had failed miserably in his mission, that all the sweetest smelling people in his home kingdom would be covered in foul smelling sewage, and that he would finish his days, forgotten by all – even the lovely Beatrice, in that terrible dark prison cell. He felt, well, quite a bit down about that.

But when the time came, the Wicked Queen could not resist sending for Bertie so that he could witness her rocket take off on its way to way to deliver its terrible stink to its target. The soldiers led Bertie into the garden. His wrists were handcuffed behind his back. Every exit was guarded.

The rocket stood on the launch pad along side the tallest tower of the castle, ready for lift off. The lovely Beatrice was sitting next to the King, on a golden throne that had been set up in the orchard. She was stroking her pet bunny rabbit and sobbing into her handkerchief. The king was reading the gardening column in his newspaper. But the Wicked Queen was wearing a yellow safety helmet and standing on top of a temporary platform. The guards brought the prisoner up to stand beside her.

“My dear Jester, Or should I call you Prince Bertie?” snarled the Queen. “How lovely to see you. I thought you might like to laugh along with me at this little joke I’m about to play on your father.”

“Ha Ha” said Bertie. But he didn’t mean it. At the same time he was wriggling with his hands behind his back to see if he could slip out of the handcuffs. Soon after the Queen began to count down backwards.

“10, 9, 8. ….” Her terrible voice echoed around the walls of the castle. Even the King looked up from his newspaper. Bertie kept on wriggling his hands. He hadn’t eaten for two whole days, and he felt like he was all skin and bones. Surely he was thin enough to escape?”

“7,6, 5, 4…. ” Bertie’s eye was on a red button on the Queen’s control Panel. It said “Abort” If only he could press that button at the right moment, the rocket would stop its mission.

“3, 2, 1 Blast-off !:”

Screeched the Queen. And slowly the rocket started to rise from the launch pad, pushed upwards by a great ball of flames. Then everyone in the palace applauded, except for Bertie whose hands were cuffed, and Beatrice who was still stroking her bunny rabbit. The Queen started to shout Stink! Stink! Stink! and all the people joined in shouting Stink! Stink! Stink! And Bertie kept on wriggling his hands. Everyone’s eyes, including those of the Queen and all the guards were glued to the sight of the rocket hovering just above the castle, before setting on its way to deliver its terrible smells to Bertie’s Kingdom. Suddenly Bertie felt his hand slip out of the cuff. His now free hand shot out and hit the red “abort” button. It started to flash and beep and the queen shrieked “Who did that?” She manically pressed the button marked “Start” But it was too late. The rocket stopped in mid air and came crashing down onto the roof of the castle, from where it rolled into the garden below, landing right the middle of the King’s prize daffodils. There was an almighty explosion and the air was filled with sewage flying in all directions. Everyone was covered in it. Bertie started to run. The guards were far to busy holding their noses and saying “pooh what a pong” to notice him jumping into the King’s Rolls Royce and speeding off down the drive.

Bertie drove and drove, taking a secret road through the mountains, until he reached home. He was just in time for last part of the his father’s garden party, which had been a sweet-smelling success, untroubled by stink bombs. As he walked through the crowds the guests held their noses.

“Is that Prince Bertie?” they whispered to one another. “He doesn’t half pong.” “Bertie” shouted his father when he smelt him. “Go and take a bath, immediately.”

“But But, I saved you from the stink bomb” said Bertie.

“Right this minute” shouted his father. And so Agent Bertie had no choice but to go and take a bath. “The problem with being a secret agent” he thought, as he soaked among the soap bubbles,” “Is that your mission is so secret that nobody knows how jolly brave you were”.

But the lovely Princess Beatrice knew how brave he was. And although she and her bunny rabbit were covered in bad smelling stuff, she didn’t mind that much, because at last she had met a prince who had got the better of her wicked step-mother.

And that’s the Story of Agent Bertie.

Bertie the Frog Speaks ! As does Tim The Tadpole, Colin The Grumpy Carp, and Sadie the Swan. In this short animation Tim, who is rather a curious little tadpole, has a very important question. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a birthday coming up soon on the pond.

The video file (m4v)will play on a Video iPod.Download the video file of How Old Are You? (bigger picture, best quality). All the voices by Natasha. Duration 2.30.

Download Colin: the Grumpy King Audio…. (how to?)

Sometimes it seems that people the whole wide world over are divided into two sorts: fans of Prince Bertie the Frog, and fans of Colin the Grumpy Carp.

Are you a Colin sort of person?

Or a Bertie sort of person?

Or does it depend on what sort of day you are having?

For those who have been leaving messages demanding that Colin features in another of his own stories, thank you for your patience…. here it is. The true story of how Colin became king for a day – and didn’t rule as people expected… not at first anyhow.

Lovers of fishy stories will also enjoy How Colin Became Grumpy and The Golden Fish.

Read by Natasha. Duration 20 minutes.

It all began a week or so ago, when the Wicked Queen who turned Bertie into a frog was taking a walk by the pond in the palace gardens. She stopped by to have a long chat with Colin – they get on rather well you know. Colin asked how her Royal Wickedness was doing, and she started on every such a long grumble. She moaned about the little children who are always leaving their toys lying around the throne room, and Barker the stupid Palace Dog who runs up and slobbers over her hand, even though she doesn’t like animals, and above all she complained about the King.

“He just isn’t royal enough,” she said. “He’s so disgustingly nice. He’s always showing Mercy, when what’s needed is a good bit of old fashioned punishment.”

“Oh yes your Gracious Wicked Majesty,” agreed Colin, “You are so right. There’s not enough flogging these days.”

“Quite. Quite. That’s just how I feel,” said the Queen. “Only the other day the cook brought me a plate of spaghetti bolognese, and when I tried to eat it, the spaghetti was all in knots and the tomato sauce squirted over my new dress. I screamed “Off with her head, right this minute! ” and the King said, “No, no my dear. Show a little mercy. Mercy! how I hate that word!’

‘Exactly. What use is Mercy to anybody. If I were king I would make sure things were done properly.” (Colin)

“You seem like a jolly sensible fish. I’m sure you would make a fine king.” (Queen)

“In fact often wish that fine fish like me could be king. Then everything would be right in the world.” (Colin)

“Well in that case  your wish can come true”. (Queen)

And with that the Wicked Queen took out her magic wand and started to mutter a magic spell.

“Abracadabra fishy stew – Colin shall be king and the king shall be YOU !”

The sky went dark and a chill wind blew over the pond. Big waves buffeted the frogs and tadpoles and sent the ducks and swans squawking onto the banks looking for shelter.

And as for Colin – he found himself sitting on a Thrown studded with diamonds. “Can this be true? he said to himself. “I’m all horribly dry and I’m breathing air and… I’m, I’m human. Oh my head feels jolly heavy. That must be my incredibly clever brain. Fish are known for big brains, you know, even when they are turned into humans all of a sudden. ”

But it wasn’t Colin’s brain that weighed so heavily on his head. It was a golden crown. For the wicked Queen had turned Colin into the King, – and the real King was swimming around at the bottom of the pond. It took Colin a little while to realise what had happened, and just as he was still feeling a little confused, a servant in red livery announced that the lovely Princess Beatrice was about to enter the chamber leading a group of the smallest and sweetest little girls who lived in the Palace.

“I know who just who Beatrice is,’ said King Colin, “It’s that frilly fluffy-brained princess that Bertie’s always going on about. I better she’s not lovely at all. I bet she’s really snotty and horrible.”

But when the lovely Princess Beatrice kissed his hand, wished him good morning, and said how handsome he was looking that day, King Colin thought to himself, “Actually, she’s not so bad after all” and found that his face was smiling back at her. Smiling was rather strange to him, because when he was a fish, all he could do was gawp. Smiling felt, well, rather nice.

The little girls who had come with Beatrice were all wearing pink dresses and they all did pretty little curtsies. Just then, Colin realised that the Wicked Queen was sitting on a thrown next to his. She learned over and whispered in his ear, “Don’t you think those little girls are perfectly revolting. Let me turn them all into tadpoles and send them to eat slime in the pond.”

“My dear,” said Colin. “You can’t do that. Children are the future of our Kingdom.”

“Well all right then. “I suppose you are right, unfortunately,” and the Queen slipped her magic wand back into her handbag and told the children to be off to their lessons right away.

When they had gone, Colin said, “I think I shall be called King Colin the Wise. Because you see I’m jolly brainy.” And the Queen pulled a face at him when he wasn’t looking.

Next the Chamberlain came in and asked his majesty what he wanted for lunch that day. “The Cook recommends either sausages and beans or fish fingers and chips,” he said. “Fish Fingers! spluttered King Colin !” and then he remembered that after all these were only foolish human beings who did not know any better. He calmed down and said, “Tell the cook never to make fish fingers again. I’ll have flies for lunch, lightly fried with a little butter and with a touch of green algae on top.”

“Yes Your Majesty” said the Chamberlain, rather puzzled, and went away to tell the cook.

Later in the morning, the Chancellor who was in charge of all the gold and treasure in the kingdom came to consult with the King. He said that they had collected more money than expected, and he was wondering what they should spend it on.

“Oh that’s wonderful, ” said the lovely Princess Beatrice, “Now we can afford to build a new children’s hospital for all the little ones who are poorly.”

When the Wicked Queen heard this, she was furious: “You stupid girl!” she Screeched. “What on earth makes you think we would want to waste good treasure on a some snotty nosed kids who were silly enough to get sick? Let’s spend the money on a new palace. This one’s getting shabby.”

“No, my dear,” said King Colin. “The lovely Princess Beatrice makes a good point. This palace is splendid enough. We shall build a hospital for the children, and while we are about it, let’s make sure there is an underwater wing of the hospital especially for sick fish.”

And as the both the Chancellor and the Lovely Princess Beatrice said that King Colin was extremely wise, the decision to build the hospital was made.

And so the day went on, until King Colin went out in his golden carriage drawn by six white horses and was cheered by all the people who saw him drive past. Colin waved back at the people and practised smiling. He thought how pleasant it was to be so popular, and to be loved by one and all for his generosity and wisdom. It was far better to be known throughout the ages as King Colin the Wise than King Colin the Grumpy. He drove to the Prime Minister’s house and told him that he wanted to make a new law right away.

“The new law, said Colin, “is that fishing is banned with immediate effect.”

“How very wise you are, Your Majesty”, said the Prime Minister. “Fishing is such a cruel sport.”

Just then Colin heard some more cheers – even louder this time. “Ah my people are hailing King Colin the Wise,” he said.

“Actually,” said the Prime Minister, “They are cheering the palace football team. It sounds like they’ve scored a goal in the cup final.”

“Bah!’ said Colin. “Football’s banned. The people are only allowed to cheer me.” And with that, he strutted out of the Prime Minister’s house and drove home to the palace in a huff.

The cook served flies for lunch. King Colin thought they were a little overdone and not as juicy as they used to be in the pond, but he did not say anything because he was enjoying watching the Foreign Minister putting the flies on the end of his fork and looking rather queasy. The Queen secretly made a magic spell and turned her own flies into chocolate truffles while Colin wasn’t noticing. She mentioned quietly that she had heard a rumour that some of the people were a tiny bit unhappy about football being banned.

“I’ve an idea,” said Colin to the Foreign Minister “Let’s have a short glorious war. That will cheer the people up.”

“Who against?” asked the Foreign Minister.

“Oh just anyone,” said King Colin. “Just as long as they are smaller than us.”

“That is very wise,” said the Foreign Minister.

As they were finishing lunch, an angry great roar could be heard all around the palace. There was the sound of battering on the front door and a shot or two was fired in the air.

“Oh dear, ” said the Foreign Minister “It sounds like the people are pretty angry. ”

“Angry?’ said Colin, “How dare they be angry? I’m the most popular king in all history. I shall go up on the balcony and address my people. They will calm down when hear the words of King Colin the Wise”.

Up on the Balcony, Colin saw a vast ocean of angry faces surrounding the palace. Many of them were wearing blue paint on their faces and waving flags – they were football supporters you see. They began to chant:

Nick Knack Paddy Wack
Give a fish a throne
Splish Splash Wacky Thwack
Send him splashing home.

“Friends, humans, countrymen… fish.” Called out Colin. And before he could finish his speech he was pelted with rotten eggs and tomatoes.

But King Colin the Wise was was brave and steadfast. He continued with his speech. ” Football is a noble Game. Football is a beautiful game, played on the field of honour!”

At this the people were a little quieter, because they liked football, and some of the teachers in the crowd told everyone to hush and listen to what the King had to say.

“I am building a bigger and brighter future for the Kingdom. There will be sweeties for the little children and moist lettuce leaves for the fluffy bunny rabbits. ”

Now most of the people were listening, but a little boy at the back of the crowd called out something very rude about Colin. Can you guess what he shouted? You can’t ? Well I’ll tell you. He called King Colin the Wise, “Cod Face”

“Cod Face?” exclaimed King Colin. “I’ll have you know that I was once a champion carp!”

When they heard this, everyone laughed, because although Colin was a human King, his face did look rather, well, fishy. His skin was somewhat scaly, his eyes where big and bulging, and his throat was droopy. In fact, when the lovely Princess Beatrice and told him that he was looking handsome, she had been telling just a little white lie, because as always, she’s ever so kind.

Colin grew very angry when the people laughed at him and he started to splutter: “Well the least you could do is stop kicking a stupid football around and go back to work to earn some taxes for the treasury.”

The Wicked Queen who was listening to all this and she could not hold back any longer. She picked up a microphone inside her chamber and shouted into it so that every body could hear here her voice echoing around the palace grounds and even in the town squares.

“Too right everyone should work harder you lazy ungrateful lot. I want a new palace!!!!”

Now there was uproar. The crowd was turning very, very very angry.

“Okay, okay, you can have your lovely game of football” shouted Colin. but nobody could hear him. Some of the most angry people were climbing up the drainpipes of the palace and onto the balcony. King Colin became frightened and rushed back inside. He saw the Wicked Queen and called out to her,

“My dear Queen . Save us! The People are revolting!”

“They are perfectly revolting!” agreed the Queen. But then she added, “The old king might have been a nincompoop, but at least he knew how to score goals for the palace football team” And with that she pointed her magic wand at King Colin and shouted:

Fish! Flash!

And Colin found himself wet once again, and breathing under water. He heard a squeaky voice saying,

“Colin, What’s your favourite colour?”

He turned around and saw a silly little tadpole called Tim.  Normally he would have been highly irritated by such a pointless question, but today he found it rather comforting to see Little Tim.

“I dunnow” said Colin. “In fact, I don’t know anything very much. I’m just just and ignorant old fish you see. All I do is go for a swim all day.” and with that he managed to turn his gawp into almost a smile.

And that’s the Storynory of The Grumpy King. Bertie says that the moral of that story is that if you put a fish in charge, that’s what you can expect: nothing but trouble. Frogs are much more royal, says Bertie. And perhaps he is right.

Download Bertie Writes A Book

This audio story explains how Prince Bertie came to write the first installment of his autobiography (Prince Bertie the Frog).

The book itself presents the text and beautiful full colour pictures to go with an earlier Bertie story which you can listen to here.

Here’s the blurb from the back cover:

Once upon a time, Bertie had it all. He was a handsome prince, world skateboarding champion, and engaged to the lovely Princess Beatrice.

Nowadays poor Bertie is just a common frog. His new pondlife friends include Tim the Tadpole and Sadie the Swan. Colin the Grump Carp goes around the pond whispering ugly rumours. Colin says that Bertie’s making it all up about his royal past.

In this exciting, up-to-date fairy tale, Bertie exclusively reveals the events that led to his downfall.

The story of how Bertie came to write his book is read by Natasha Gostwick. Duration 10 minutes.

Bertie’s been secretly writing his book for several months now. He’s dedicated it to his friend Tim the Tadpole. Apparently it’s a jolly clever book – well that’s what Bertie told me anyhow.

It all began one Monday morning quite a while back, when Tim was the saddest little Tadpole in the pond. He didn’t want to eat up his green slime for breakfast, and he didn’t want to go to School. Instead he hid under a stone – well it was more like a piece of grit really, because he is very small.

Sadie the Swan swooped down with her elegant neck and picked Tim up on the end of her beak.

“Why don’t you tell us what’s upsetting you litte Tim?” she asked.

“Can’t, can’t, can’t,” wailed Tim, then “Shan’t, shan’t, shan’t…” , and then he dived back into the pond with a minsicule little splash.

“You can tell us, we’re you’re friends,” Sadie called after him.

‘Fwaaa”, said Colin the Carp, who’s a very grumpy fish.”Maybe he’s finally realised that he’s just a silly, insignificant little tadpole. That’s enough to make anyone feel a bit down…. and what’s more, his entire forseeable future consists of growing up into ugly frog like Bertie… in fact, that fate’s so awful that even I feel sorry for him.”

And Tim paused for a moment, feeling very, very, very sad. And then in a very small and very squeaky voice he started to explain. You see Tim didn’t want to go to school because he wasn’t doing very well at reading. And every time he was in the reading class, he felt a bit sad, because all the other tadpoles were doing much better than he was. And he tried and he tried and he tried…but he still found reading things very difficult, especially words. As for sentences, they were just impossible!

“Maybe that’s because your stupid,” suggested Colin.

“No, no, no, don’t be mean,” said Bertie. “When I was just a princeling – that’s like a prince, you know, only smaller, it took me ever such a long time to learn to read”.

“Well, that is surprising,” said Colin.

“What we need to do,” announced Sadie, “Is to give Tim some help with learning to read. Because all it takes is practice.”

And all the pond life agreed that was an excellent idea.

There was only one problem.

They didn’t have any books.

“I know,” said Bertie. “We’ll go to the palace library. They’ve got lots of books there, like The Greatest Skateboarding Heroes in World History. And 101 Ways to Cook a Chocolate Marshmallow – those are two of my personal favorites.”

And so they waited until night time, because it would look a bit strange to see a swan, a frog and a tadpole walking through the Palace in broad daylight.

When it was really, really late, about ten minutes after bedtime, we all crept into the palace library. Sadie waddled, and I carried Tim and Bertie in my handbag.

It was a bit dark inside, but I knew the way because Bertie is always sending me there to look up stories.

Of course inside, there were hundreds and hundreds, if not thousands of books. I said I that I knew a really good one called “The Three Little Pigs”, – “it’s a really page turner” I told them – but it was out. Somebody must have borrowed it.

“I know,” said Sadie, “Let’s find him the story of Swan Lake”.

“Oh no, that’s far too sad,” said Bertie, who knows all about most stories. “if Tim reads that, he’s sure to burst into tears again.”

“How about this?” asked Tim.

Bertie pulled the book down from the shelf.

“Relativity: The Special and General Theory by Albert Einstein.”

“That sounds good,” said Tim. “I’ve got lots of relatives.”

So Bertie handed him the book.

But after a few minutes, Tim said. “I think this one’s a bit difficult.”

Tim searched for a long time, then choose a book with a blue cover, and which was also very short, because he liked short books.

“Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, by Ludwig Wittgenstein, said Bertie. “Ah, er…that sounds good.”

Tim started to read.

After a short while, he tried to scratch his head. Only he didn’t have any arms, so it was a bit difficult. Don’t you think it would be better if Natasha read it to me?” said Tim. “She usually seems to be quite good at reading.”

So I read the first sentence.

“Perhaps this book will be understood only by someone who has himself already had the thoughts that are expressed in it”"Err, that’s just what I was thinking,” said Bertie. Let’s read something interesting instead.

“I don’t really like any of these books,” said Tim.

“What kind of book do you want?” asked Sadie.

“A book about us,” said Tim. “About me, and Bertie, and Aunty Sadie, and perhaps about Colin the Carp too, and all the silly little tadpoles, and Grandpa Tommy Frog, and, and about my mum.”

Sadie and Bertie looked at each other.

“There is no such book,” said Sadie.

“But we’ll make one,” suggested Bertie, when he saw his little friend looking sad.

And so over the next few days, and weeks, and months, Bertie worked ever so hard at becoming an author. He spent long hours conptemplating the sky, lost in his thoughts, and thinking ever so hard. Eventually, he told me the true storynory of how it was he became a frog, even though he used to be a Royal Prince, and how he came to live on the pond. I wrote it down for him, and and sent it off to the printer.

And when Tim received his copy, he read all the words and looked at all the pictures. He even read some of the sentences too.

And now he doesn’t have any trouble reading at all. And everyday at school, Tim is the happiest little tadpole in the pond.

And did you know that you too can get a copy of Bertie’s book? It’s really rather a good book, says Bertie. All the pages have funny pictures in colour, and there are plenty of nice words in it, and what’s best all, the story is absolutely true.

You can buy it by going to Storynory.com. Now you see, you don’t have to listen to me to learn all about Bertie’s adventures,
you can read about them yourself. Well, I hope you’ll still listen to me too, sometimes…. because if you don’t, I’ll feel just a bit sad.

Download Bertie Valentine

Pictures by Sophie Green

There is a terribly romantic mood on the pond where Prince Bertie the Frog lives. All the pond life are excited by Valentine’s Day. But nobody is more excited than Bertie. All he has to do is to lure the Lovely Princess Beatrice down to the pond, receive a kiss from her Royal Loveliness, and he will turn back into his true self – a handsome prince. Sadie the Swan has a plan… but Colin the Carp is certain that it won’t be so easy to persuade a princess to kiss Bertie.

And if you are interested in the background to St. Valentine’s day, try our story of St. Valentine.

Read by Natasha. Duration 15.20

Bertie Valentine

Hello, this is Natasha, and I’m dropping by to tell you the true storynory of Prince Bertie the Frog’s Valentine’s Day.

Have you heard about Valentine’s Day?

It’s a very special day. Every year, on the 14th of February, you send cards to people you love, and care about.

And if there is someone you have been secretly admiring, you can send them a card, and not say who it is from.

That sounds terribly mysterious and exciting.

Anyway, a few days ago, I was going for a walk, and I was thinking about who I might send a Valentine’s Card to this year, when I walked past the pond where Prince Bertie the frog lives with all his friends.

And I saw Bertie sitting there, looking very sad.

Tim the Tadpole was trying to cheer him up.

“Let’s go for a walk, Bertie,” said Tim.

“You haven’t got any legs, Tim” said Bertie.

“Let’s play hopscotch.”

“No,” snapped Bertie.

“Or skipping ….”

Bertie looked blankly at his legless little friend as if he were a rather silly tadpole – which of course he was.

“C’mon Bertie,” said Colin the Grumpy Carp “There’s nothing like a good old moan to improve everybody’s mood. One two three…..ugggggggg!”

When I saw how my friend Bertie looked, I felt rather sorry for him, and I knelt down by the edge of the pond. “Why so sad?” I asked.

Bertie blushed a shade of deepest green, and got all shy. He sighed a bit, and at length he said, ‘Well let me tell you a story, and it will all become clear.”

As his story was rather short – I’ll just tell it to you quickly. Once upon time there was a handsome, brave and gallant prince who was engaged to be married to a beautiful princess. Then one day a wicked queen got rather cross and shouted out a magic spell that turned him into a frog. For a whole year he sat on a lily leaf and cried big fat tears, but then, on a bright wintry day, his princess came wondering by the pond. She saw the sad little creature, picked him up in her hand, and kissed him. For you see, although he was a frog, he was still terribly handsome and she just couldn’t resist his charms. No sooner had she kissed him, than he turned back into a prince and they got married and lived happily ever after. THE END.

When I heard the story, I knew what Bertie meant. He was hoping for a Valentine’s day kiss from the lovely Princess Beatrice, for that would turn him back into a prince. But Colin the Carp was far from convinced:

“Boring!” he said.” Fairy tales always end in soppy kisses and happy ever after – but that’s because they are made up.. If you ask me – which nobody ever does around this pond – in real life no self-respecting princess would kiss an ugly little frog not if even if you gave her a whole palace made of gold and filled to the top of its towers with pearls, frilly dresses, diamond tiaras and Girls Aloud CDs, not even then could she bring herself to kiss Bertie.”

Just then, Sadie the Swan glided across the pond: “Oh yes she could,” she said. “Princesses are always on the look out for frogs to kiss…It’s their royal duty. We must lure the lovely Princess Beatrice to walk past the pond on Valentines Day, when she’s in her most dreamy and romantic mood, and she’s sure to kiss Bertie because being a true princess, she’ll just know that really he’s a handsome prince under a magic spell..”

So all the pond life thought very hard about how to get the lovely Princess Beatrice to walk past the pond and see Bertie. They thought and thought…and Tim was thinking so hard, he fell over backwards.

And then Sadie came up with a clever plan — because Sadie knows all about Valentine’s Day, and usually gets dozens of cards from swans all over the world.

“I know,” she said. “We’ll ask Natasha to send an announcement to the Palace Radio Station. Princess Beatrice will hear it, she’ll know it was meant for her, and she’ll come down to the pond, plant a kiss on Bertie, and they will both live happily ever after.”

“Gosh, I say, that’s really jolly clever, Sadie,” said Bertie.

And so it was done.

On Valentine’s Day, the royal DJ was only playing romantic soppy love songs, and in between records he was reading out even gooier Valentines messages. It was all rather boring really, but everyone in the palace was listening out, just in case they heard a message that was meant for them.

Eventually he read out the lines for Princess Beatrice – but because it was a Valentine’s message, and meant to be sort of secret, it didn’t actually mention any names. The DJ purred.

“Greetings Royal pop-pickers: here’s a message to get young hearts beating – not arf. If you go down to the palace pond today, only kiss a frog and your every wish will come true – all right, stay bright. And now here’s a cool chart-topper from years gone by – Save All Your kisses for Me by the Brotherhood of Man.”

All the girls who lived in the palace and in the houses near by heard the message on the palace radio, and each one of them wondered who would be the lucky girl who found the right frog to kiss, and whose every wish would come true. And the same thought popped through the heads of quite a few of them: “I wonder if maybe, just maybe, it might be me.” Even I thought the same for a moment – and then I remembered that I’m not a true princess, just Bertie’s special story teller, and so my wishes wouldn’t come true even if I did kiss him. So I decided not to after all.

On Valentine’s Day, His Royal Highness Prince Bertie the Frog peeked out from behind his lily pad and looked at his reflection in the pond. His skin was a nice shiny shade of green. He sipped up some water and swilled away all the traces of green slime from around his mouth. It was a pity that he he couldn’t do anything about the bumps on his head and back, but all the same, he was certain that if the lovely Princess Beatrice felt like kissing a frog that morning, it might as well be him.

The mood on the pond was terribly romantic. He could see that Sadie had already received a sackful of Valentine cards.

Tim had received one – from his mum.

And Colin had received one as well, from Chloe Carp, and he was swimming around in quite an excited way – but actually that card was from Bertie playing a joke on him.

Bertie couldn’t wait for the lovely Princess Beatrice to come down and kiss him.

So he hopped up onto the bank of the pond, and looked out across to the Palace.

Soon a small girl came along and immediately she saw Bertie she cooed,, “Oooh Look Nanny, a frog, let me kiss him quick and all my wishes will come true.” Bertie tried to hop away as fast as he could, but the girl’s brother caught him and held Bertie up to his sister’s lips.

“Go on now” said the boy – who was really rather horrid – “kissy kissy!”

“Ooooh,” said the girl, scrunching up her face, “He’s so shiny and green – quite, quite, the ugliest little creature I ever did see – but I’m sure that he’ll turn into a prince if I kiss him, so I suppose I had just better get it over with” And she closed her eyes and kissed Bertie. Bertie thought the kiss was perfectly horrible, and he wriggled and wriggled trying to escape, but the boy thought it was hilarious, and he put Bertie in his satchel and took him to school. In the play ground the girls queued up and paid the boy with their pocket money, or toffee apples, or chewie sweets, and each one of them kissed Bertie to see if he would turn into a prince for them, and each one of them was disappointed that nothing happened – because none of them was a true princess. Some of them burst into tears.

It was a very miserable Bertie who eventually hopped back to the pond after receiving more kisses than he could count.

He was about to dive into the slimy green water, when he saw Princess Beatrice. She was walking down to the pond, looking for a frog to kiss – for – when she heard the message on the radio, she suspected that her wicked step-mother might have turned her beloved Prince Bertie into a frog, – because she hadn’t seen or heard from him for quite a while now – and she knew that she must find him, and kiss him. Bertie became ever so excited, and started to hop up and down , but Beatrice didn’t see him. Instead, she spotted Old Tommy Frog, Tim the tadpole’s grandfather, who’d been sent down to check that Tim had received his card.

“Beatrice, my darling” Bertie tried to cry out – but the only sound that came out of his mouth was a big “croak!”:

And Princess Beatrice was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even hear his croaking.

Instead, she knelt down and gave old grandfather Tommy a peck on the bump of his head. He got the shock of his ancient life, and dived straight back into the pond.

“I wish that Prince Bertie would come home soon,” said Beatrice, before adding, “Hmmm I ‘m not sure that I really like kissing frogs, but I suppose it’s my royal duty once in a while”. And then she turned around and headed straight back to the palace.

And Bertie felt a bit sad about that. But then he cheered up…because he knew the lovely Princess Beatrice still loved him, and was thinking about him on Valentine’s Day and wishing that he would come home.

And as Bertie went to sleep under his lily, he could see Colin swimming around, looking at his card and saying, “I wonder who Chloe Carp is?”

And that’s the true storynory of Bertie’s Valentine’s Day.

I hope you have a great day

Until next time, from me, Natasha, and all your friends at Storynory.com, bye, bye….

Download Bertie Meets Father Christmas.

We are getting really into the holiday mood now, with the absolutely true story of how Prince Bertie the Frog met Santa Claus. And as a special treat this story is our first to come with music and ambiance.

Read by Natasha. Duration 23 Minutes.

Hello. This is Natasha. And I’m dropping by to tell you the storynory of how Prince Bertie the Frog met Father Christmas.

Yes, really.

In real life.

It’s ever such an exciting story, I can hardly wait to tell it to you.

Christmas was getting close. And all the pond life were sitting around discussing the things that they wanted for Christmas.

It was quite shivery weather, being the middle of winter in that part of the world, but Prince Bertie the Frog and his friends didn’t mind about that. They were too excited thinking of things to ask Santa for.

“What are you wishing for, Bertie?” asked Tim the Tadpole.

“Well, my small friend,” said Bertie. “I would like a new 60 giga-byte video Ipod, personally engraved of course. And a new PlayStation 3, with loads of games to play. Maybe a Nintendo as well. Oh, and perhaps a High Definition flat panel TV. And, and, and….I would like one of the new Robo-Skateboarders, because I have read it is this year’s must-have present, and there will be a real shortage.”

Bertie had reeled off his Christmas list with great enthusiasm, but then for a moment he felt a little bit sad. For you see, when he was a prince and lived in the palace, he used to get loads and loads of presents. But now he’s a frog, the most he can really look forward to for Christmas is a piece of green slime.

“And how about you Tim?” asked Bertie.

“A pair of wellington boots,” said Tim. “A walking stick. Some socks. Maybe some jelly babies. And a copy of “Cooking With Slime” by Joly Oliver.”

“We’d better not even ask Colin the Carp what he wants,” said Bertie.

“Oh, just a fly trap, as usual,” said Colin, sounding a bit gloomy. “And maybe, if Santa can be bothered, a copy of “Dead Insects a la Carte” by Graham Ramsey.”

“And in a perfect world, what would Santa bring for Sadie the Swan ?,” Bertie wondered out aloud

Sadie glided elegantly across the pond. “I think I’d rather like a day at a luxury health spa,” she sighed. “And some feather beauty treatments.”

And so Bertie said he was would write all the things they wanted down, and make sure they were sent off to Santa in plenty of time for Christmas — and maybe, just this time, Santa would remember all the pondlife. After all, there has to be a first time for everything.

But he had counted without a very unexpected turn of events.

Up at the Palace, just a few days before Christmas, the Wicked Queen, Princess Beatrice’s Step-mother was in a terrible temper – even worse than usual.

She was getting more and more stressed with all the preparations for the big day.

There were presents to buy and wrap.

And food to prepare.

And all sorts of charitable acts for the poor people…which really didn’t interest her very much.

“Right, that’s it,” she screeched one morning. “I’m totally fed up. Christmas is cancelled. We’re not bothering this year…and I’m going to ask that stupid old Santa just to send me a cheque instead.”

Now, when everyone in the Palace heard this, they were really quite upset, because they were looking forward to Christmas so very much. But the wicked step-mother was absolutely determined. “No No, No, Absolutely NOT. Christmas is OFF,” she shrieked over and over again. “And if any little child so much as dare whisper “Merry Christmas” I’ll turn him into a beetle.” And everyone did their best to stay out of her sight. Because you see, secretly she’s a witch, and she might turn you into a creepy crawly just for fun, so if he’s in a bad mood, it’s best to stay out of her way.

Everyone was truly miserable, but nobody more so than the lovely Princess Beatrice, because she especially loved Christmas. Most of all, she liked helping the poor people, and she doing kind things for little children, and small, fluffy animals…and she quite liked eating yummy-scrummy food, and getting some presents herself.

So she was terribly upset.

And to calm herself down, she went for a walk by the pond. But she couldn’t stop herself from sobbing gentle, sweet tears. She began to talk the creatures who lived on the pond, and she didn’t think for moment think that they might understand a word of what she was saying.

“Dear, gentle swan,” she said. “Funny-faced frog, tiny tadpole, and strangely grumpy looking fish, do you not understand how sad I am, now that the wicked Step-meother has cancelled Christmas? Yes, it’s true, she wrote to Santa and asked him to pay a cheque into her bank account instead. Oh alas! It is as if my heart had been broken into a thousand tiny little bits….and I have no idea how to put it back together again.”

And wiping the tears from her eyes, she went back to the Palace.

“Oh!,” sighed Bertie. “This is truly terrible. I can’t bear to see the lovely Princess Beatrice so upset. After all, I’m still officially engaged to be married to her Royal Loveliness. Something must be done.”

And so Bertie, along with his friends, hatched a cunning plan.

They waited until the night of Christmas Eve.

And when it was getting dark, Bertie and Tim hopped onto Sadie the Swan’s back. The mission was so important that even Colin the Carp wished them good luck.

Sadie flapped her wings. It was a long time since she had flown anywhere, and she had to flap and flap, but finally she spread out her feathers and soared upwards into the night sky.

Bertie was hanging onto her back…and Tim was hanging onto Bertie.

“Are we there yet?,” asked Tim nervously.

“I only wish,” said Bertie as he swayed around in the wind.

Sadie flapped up and down, up and down, until they were flying over a near by village.

“There!” shouted Bertie.

And Sadie flew down onto the rooftop, skidding to a halt. Tim was very pleased to climb off, and was already wondering if he could take a bus home, since flying on a swan’s back was a bit scary.

“We’ll just wait right by this chimney” said Bertie. “And when Santa and the reindeer come along, we’ll tell him that he’s not to listen to the silly old Wicked Step-mother and I’ll order him to deliver presents to the Palace as usual.”

And then he paused to think for a bit. “And to everyone on the pond as well, of course.”

So Bertie and Tim and Sadie waited and waited. They got very cold, and a bit peckish, but they didn’t complain because they knew it was very important to see Santa.

Finally, they saw the twinkling of moonbeams, a silvery trail of stardust, and Santa’s sleigh was coming in to land.

“I saw him first, I saw him first,” said Tim, trying to jump up and down, which is quite difficult when you haven’t got any legs.

“No, I did,” boomed Bertie.

“It was me, it was me,” squealed Tim.

“No, Tim, I…”

“Not fair, not fair, not fair,” cried Tim. “I never get to see anyone first.”

“Now, now, boys, it doesn’t really matter who saw him first,” said Sadie. “We just have to speak to Santa.”

The sleigh had already landed on the roof, and a big jolly man with a red coat and a white beard was walking with a sack of presents towards the chimney.

“Who’s that?” asked Tim, who really is a rather silly Tadpole.

Bertie ignored him and went up to accost Santa’s reindeer.

“I say there, my merry fellows,” said Bertie. “I need to have word about a delivery.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” said the first reindeer. “You’ll have to talk to the boss.”

“It’s very urgent,” said Bertie.

“Oh, urgent, is it?” said the reindeer. “It’s only Christmas Eve, innit mate. We’ve only got, what three or four billion presents to deliver. And you start telling us your business is urgent.”

“But….but….” spluttered Bertie.

“Well have you got anything for us?,” asked the reindeer.

“And not another mince pie and carrot,” said the next reindeer. “We’ve had a couple of million of them already, and we’re fed up.”

“I didn’t actually think to bring you something,” said Bertie.

“No, well, nobody ever does. We deliver millions of presents around the world, and nobody brings us nothing – unless its a mince pie.”

Bertie was starting to wonder if he shouldn’t put in an official complaint about the reindeer’s poor service, when just then Santa himself popped back out of the chimney.

“Oh bother,” he said, bending over and picking up Bertie. “Looks like I dropped this little feller. Oh well, never mind, we’ll just sling it in the next stocking. There must be some not-terribly well-behaved snotty nosed kid who deserves nothing better than a cheap looking toy frog .”

“I-I-I’m not a toy,” spluttered Bertie.”

Santa chuckled. “A toy that talks – that’s hardly original.”

“Look here my good sir,” said Bertie, putting on his grandest voice. “I’m Prince Bertie. From the Palace, you know. I’m merely in the form of a frog because my fiancee’s step-mother got rather cross with me once – well that’s a long story – perhaps I’ll tell it to you another time”

“We’ll be skipping the Palace this year,” said Santa. “The Queen wrote to us personally, and said she was cancelling Christmas this year, and we were just to send a cheque and a large box of chocolates instead.”

“That’s just it,” said Bertie. “It’s all been a terrible mistake. The lovely Princess Beatrice – she’s my fiancee you know, and the sweetest kindest creature who ever lived – is so terribly sad about Christmas being cancelled, and so I’ve come to ask you to put the Palace back on your route. If its not too much trouble…”

Santa stroked his long white beard. “Can’t be done,” he said firmly. “It’s all been inputed on the system, you see. I can’t go around changing it at the last minute.”

“But Princess Beatrice will be so miserable,” said Bertie.

Santa shook his head. “Not as upset as the systems people will be if I start trying to change the rota. It simply can’t be done.”

Bertie was starting to get so cross he was hopping from one foot to another. “I have to insist,” he said.

“You can insist all you like, my fine frog, er, Prince, but rules are rules. Letters to Santa must be written three week in advance, on one side of paper only, and addressed to the North Pole. Chimneys must be a regulation six feet minimum, and free of dangerous objects. Roofs must have a minimum width of twelve feet landing space for the reindeer. One mince pie must be left for Santa, but no custard, or harmful additives. It’s all there in health and safety regulations, mate.”

“But it’s Christmas,” spluttered Bertie. “Goodwill to all frogs, and all that.”

“Doesn’t mean there aren’t rules to follow,” said Santa. “If the Palace wants to go back on the list then they will have to apply to head office.”

Just then Sadie the Swan walked across. She hissed her fiercest hiss, and bared her sharp teeth. “You’ve never seen a crying Princess,” she said. “It’s enough to break anyone’s heart. Now deliver a present.”

Santa backed away, because Sadie was really quite scary when she got cross. “I could I suppose,” said Santa. “But I’m afraid we haven’t got anything to give her.”

“Nothing at all?” said Bertie.

Santa shook his head. “All these presents are spoken for,” he said. “You wouldn’t want some small child missing out because of you, would you frog?.”

Now Bertie thought about it, that didn’t seem a terribly good idea. “I know,” he said. “Just take me. I’ll be the present.” And as Santa was fed up of arguing, he agreed to Bertie’s plan, on condition that nobody breathed a word about it to head office.

And so Bertie, Tim and Sadie climbed onto Santa’s sleigh, which Tim thought was the most exciting thing ever. And the reindeer pulled it high into the sky, until it landed on the roof of the Palace. Santa put Bertie in his pocket and dropped down the chimney. He glanced across to check that the lovely Princess Beatrice was sleeping, and then he slipped Bertie into the bottom of the stocking that was hung up by the chimney.

He picked up the mince pie that Princess Beatrice had left just in case Santa did come after all. And then he flew on to deliver the presents to all the other children all over the world.

Bertie stayed at the bottom of the stocking until dawn broke. He was starting to wish he’d borrowed a mince pie because he was feeling a bit peckish, but then he heard Princess Beatrice waking up.

She walked over to the chimney, and she saw that the mince pie was gone, and that there was something in the stocking. “Santa has been,” she said out loud. “I knew he would….”

“I’m so excited, I’m so excited, she said, dancing around the room. “It’s Christmas.”

And then when she had calmed down, she looked inside the stocking. She was talking out loud about all the things she’d asked Santa for. A new tiara set, a string of pearls, a pink ballgown, a fluffy pink bunny, and a complete set of Girls Aloud Cds.

“Oh dear,” she said, lifting Bertie out of the stocking. “It’s a toy frog. That’s, er, well, quite nice I suppose – I think I’ll take it to the charity shop on Monday.”

Bertie was a bit sad about about that. It seemed the Princess Beatrice didn’t really like her present. He only longed that he could look into her darling hazel eyes and say, “Dearest Beatrice? Don’t you recognise me? Before I became this sweet little frog you see before you, I was your Handsome Prince Bertie”

Now if there is one thing Bertie was good at when he was still a prince, it was skateboarding. Unfortunately, Princess Beatrice did not own a skateboard, but she did have a pair of Rollerblades. And as it happened, Bertie saw one sticking out from under her bed. He pulled it out and hopped on board. Then he started to do loop-the-loops and all sorts of marvelous acrobatics. Eventually he fell off, but he managed to make that look like he did it on purpose, just to be funny.

Princess Beatrice was delighted. She was so excited she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. Then she picked up Bertie and was about to kiss him when she thought, “well perhaps not this time” and put him down again on the floor.

“My darling little frog,” she said. “How can I ever thank you enough? This is the best Christmas ever.” And she ran off to tell all the little children who lived in the palace all about what had happened.

“Croak” said Bertie when she was gone. And he cried a little tear because he would so like to be a prince once again, and spend Christmas with the lovely Princess Beatrice. But at the same time, he felt really really happy because he had managed to cheer her up.

And when he got back to the pond, he found some presents waiting for him. And Tim had cooked up a mega-dish of Christmas treats, specially prepared from his brand new copy of ‘Cooking With Green Slime’.

And that’s the storynory of how Prince Bertie the Frog met Father Christmas. And every single word of it is true. Honestly.

I hope you have a great day.

And Santa brings you some wonderful presents.

But for now, from me, Natahsa, and all your pondlife friends at Storynory.com HAVE A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS ! bye, bye.

Download Halloween on the Pond

Warning: This a rather scary story, particularly if you are a very small tadpole. Halloween is the most frightening night the year, or it is the most scrummy night of the year, depending on whether you are on the right end of a trick or a treat. Prince Bertie the Frog, Colin the Carp and friends are in search of fun and things to eat, but they encouter a real wicked witch in the form of Princess Beatrice’s Step-mother. Bertie makes a wish, and then wishes that he hadn’t.

Read by Natasha. Duration 15 minutes.

It was the day before Halloween. Bertie and his friends were splashing around, just as they do on any ordinary day, but it wasn’t any ordinary day, and it certainly wasn’t going to be any ordinary sort of night. But for now, Sadie was calmly admiring her reflection in the pond, and Colin the Carp was moaning about, well, just about anything and everything, so nothing out of the ordinary there. And Bertie and Tim the Tadpole were playing a game of Twenty Questions, except that it wasn’t going very well because the only thing that Bertie could think of was “skateboard” and the only vegetable that Tim could think of was “green slime”, which made it a bit easy.

As they were playing, Tim saw Princess Beatrice and the children from the palace collecting giant pumpkins from the vegetable patch.

“What are those very large things, Bertie?” said Tim.

“Those? They’re vegetables.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that vegetables were so scary!”

“Well, my tiny friend,” said Bertie. “That’s because they are meant to be scary. The children are going to hollow them out and put candles inside them so that they light up for Halloween and look exactly like horrid scary monsters.”

“Oh,” said Tim. “I’m rather frightened.” Because you see, Tim is only very small, even by the standard of tadpoles, and he gets frightened rather easily. Just then, Colin the Carp, who is a very grumpy fish, snapped his teeth loudly behind Tim’s back, so loudly in fact, that Tim squeaked, “Yikes !” , and tumbled back into the pond with a tiny little splash.

“Huh!, Halloween’s a good time for scaring small and silly creatures,” growled Colin.

When Tim returned timidly to the surface, Bertie continued to explain all about Halloween:

“It’s the most brilliant time of the year. When I was a prince I used to go Trick or Treating. I would knock on doors and say, ‘Royal Trick or Treat”, and if people didn’t give me sweeties or chocolate, I would play a trick on them. But most people were a bit scared, and they gave me a treat. And so every Halloween I had the most yummy scrummy time. ”

“Fabulous !” cried little Tim. “Can we go trick or treating Bertie? I promise to be really, really scary, and people will give us loads of green slime and other delicious things.”

And so, Bertie decreed, that this year, the Pond Life would go Trick or Treating. Sadie, Bertie and Tim, thought long and hard about what sort of costumes they should wear. Then Tim had a brilliant idea, which is rather unusual for him.

“Why don’t we go as a swan, a frog, and a tadpole?” he said.

Sadie walked in front, and Tim hopped onto Bertie’s back, and they wandered through the vegetable patch, and started down the street. Sadie tapped on the doors with her beak, and by the end of the evening they had collected loads and loads of sweets. They had jelly babies, and toffies, and biscuits, and chewy things, and well, it’s making me a bit peckish just thinking about it. And when they had as much as Sadie could carry in her wings, and Bertie could stuff in his mouth, they decided to go back to the pond.  But as they drew close, a thick mist was hanging over the pond.   Three human beings were taking a walk through the dark.  But were they really human?  After all, it was Halloween.

“Oh !” said Tim,  ”What are those strange creatures?”Are they… are they scary monsters?”

“Well,” said Bertie. “I would say, based on my experience of magic and the supernatural, that, er, what we see there is a big witch and two baby witches.”

“O000000h!”

Suddenly one of the little witches called out:  ”Tick or Treat!”   and her friend said, “Trick or Treat!”  and at that very instant,  Colin the Carp leapt up out of the water with a dead fly in his mouth, and he put it right down in front of the tall figure who, as it turned out, was the lovely Princess Beatrice who had dressed up as a witch for Halloween.

“Here’s your treat !” said Colin, “Now, buzz off !”

Princess Beatrice, who as well as being very lovely and sweet, is also very afraid of creepy crawlies, and besides, had never heard a carp speak before, jumped up in the air and shrieked:

“Aaahhh ! Ahhhh!”

And she ran all the way back to the palace with the two little witches following her as fast as they could.

“Ha! That will teach her to come around here asking for treats,” grumped Colin.

“If only,” Bertie mused, “A real witch would come and put a spell on him.  What’s the use of all those pretend witches?”

Little did Bertie know, that just then, in front of the full moon, a wicked witch was flying past on her broom, and that the wicked witch was none other than Princess Beatrice’s step-mother.   And since it had been rather a dull Halloween, and she hadn’t found anybody to turn into a frog or a toad,  she was delighted to hear Bertie calling for the services of a real grade A, official, and fully certified, Wicked Witch !

“Wooooosh!”

She went flying low over the surface of the pond, leaving a huge wake of surf and green slime.

“Yah, Ha HA HAAAA!”  she screeched.  ”Let those who moan, Turn to Stone!!!!!”

When she was gone, and all was quite again, little Tim said, “That was rather scary.”

“Nonsense,” said Bertie, “That wasn’t frightening at all.  I just hid behind this tree as a sensible precaution.”

And so the Pond Life went to bed.  And I’m glad to say that none of them had any nightmares at all.  But I’m sorry to say that Bertie felt just a little bit sick, as he had eaten so many scrummy sweeties.  But when the sun started to rise over the palace, and stretch her warm autumn rays over the pond,  Sadie the swan was admiring a new fountain that she hadn’t noticed before.

“My oh my,” she said, “That stone fish with water coming out of his mouth looks just like Colin.  I wonder who could have made it in his honour?”

“Yes,” said Bertie, “I’d recognise that ugly mug anywhere.  But wait, do you know what?  I think it is Colin !”

“Don’t be silly,” said Sadie, ” But then again, oh, I think you are right.  You don’t suppose that Wicked Step-mother could have turned Colin into stone?”

“I do suppose,” said Bertie, “Look what she did to me.  I used to be a handsome prince.”

And although the little tadpoles had a lovely day, free from Colin’s tricks and his moaning and groaning, Bertie started to feel just a little bit guilty.  After all, it was he who had asked for the help of a wicked witch.  But he hadn’t meant it.  Not really.  We all say things we don’t mean when we are a bit cross.  And so he thought of a plan, and that night he hopped over to pay a visit to the Wicked Step-mother.   He was rather frightened because, after all, she is a very wicked witch indeed.   He waited for a long time outside her door, feeling rather nervous.  Eventually he called out: “Croak!”  And when the Wicked Stepmother came out, he shouted, “Trick or Treat!”  Before she could reply, he splattered her with green slime from his mouth, and hopped away as fast as his bendy legs could carry him.

“Grrrrr!  Bertie! ” she shouted.

Bertie waited until it was very late at night – past half-past seven – and then he knocked very loudly on the door again. And then he shouted, “Trick or Treat !”  And pushed a skateboard under her feet so that she fell over and banged her head on the floor, and then he hopped away.

“Grrr! Just you wait.  I’ll get you Bertie.  You’ve gone too far my filthy little frog!”

And then he waited until the King came to say goodnight to the Wicked Step-mother.  The King knocked on the door quite loudly. Suddenly the door opened and the Queen leaned out shouting, “I’ll turn you into a maggot you stupid piece of green slime!  Oh, oh sorry your Royal Highness.   I didn’t mean to. ”  But the king strutted down the corridor, muttering about how one of his wives had never been so really, really rude,  and how the last one who was rather rude got her head chopped off.   The Wicked Step-mother was rather afraid.   Just then,  Bertie hopped into view.

“Er, Trick or Treat?”  he said mildly.

And even thought the Wicked Stepmother was really cross, she realised that she had been outwitted, and she agreed to come down to the pond, and to turn Colin back into a fish again.  And all the Pond Life were very pleased to see Colin swimming around again, because even though he is a bit grumpy, he still is their friend, and friends are very important.  And they saved up for a couple of chocolate-coloured dead flies so that even Colin the Carp cheered up for a little bit.

And that’s the true Storynory of  Prince Bertie’ the Frog’s Halloween.

Download the Grumpy Colin Story

Natasha’s storytelling has been coming in for some criticism of late, from none other than Colin the Carp (whom all the pond life know to be a particularly grumpy fish). This led to a huge argument on the pond, and eventually, after many protests and demands, Colin was forced to reveal the secret of how he got his grouch.

Told By Natasha. Duration 11 minutes

Just the other day, I was taking a walk through palace orchard, and picking some apples, and thinking to myself I would make some apple crumble because it is yummy-scrummy.  And I just happened to overhear some Pond Life talking to one another.

“Let’s play a game,” said Tim the Tadpole excitedly. “We could play…er….play….”

But Tim was so excited swam into a stone and banged his tiny head.

“Why bother playing anything at all?” said Colin. “Games are boring.” As it happened, the pondlife couldn’t agree on what game to play, and so Sadie the elegant black swan suggested that they all practise swimming round in perfectly elegant circles, which is what she does to pass the time.

“Grrrr…..” said Colin. “Swimming in circles will get us nowhere.”

“I’ve got it,” boomed Bertie. “We’ll ask Natasha to tell us a story.”

Colin shook his scaly head. “Oh, no, here we go again,” he moaned. “Natasha’s stories are soooo boring. She’s always going on about animals who talk. How ridiculous? Who could believe that?”

But when I heard Colin criticize my story-telling, I became quite cross. I put down my apples and walked over to the pond.

“What I want to know,” I said. “Is why exactly Colin is such a grumpy old fish.”

“Well said! Natasha,” boomed Bertie. “I’ve been wondering that too! Colin, Why excactly are you such wet, ugly, grouchy, boring, and constipated old fish?”

Colin just opened and closed his mouth – as fish do -without saying anything. Quite honestly, I thought he looked a bit stupid. Then Sadie Swan said, “Colin, my dearest fish, Did you get out of bed on the wrong side one morning?”

“Don’t be silly,” snapped Colin. “I don’t have a bed.”

“Tell us, tell us, do tell us,” pleaded little Tim. “Why are you so grumpy?”

“Oh, no, don’t you start!”

But all the other little tadpoles started to swim in circles round Colin singing,

“It’s raining, it’s pouring, and grumpy old Colin’s boring”
It’s been a long while, since we’ve seen him smile,
So we’re all going to ignore him.”

“Stop! Stop!,” pleaded Colin. “You’ll drive me nuts. I’ll tell you the story if you’re really that interested. At least it won’t be as boring as another one of those tales about the lovely Princess Beatrice and how she lost one of her fluffy toys”

And so this is the story or how Colin the Carp became Grumpy.

Once upon a time, Colin was a merry young carp, happily playing with lots of other little fishes in the pond. He was laughing and joking and telliing funny fishy jokes.

Then one day, two men came and sat down by the side of the pond. They took out a thermos of tea, and some Marmite sandwiches, and made themselves comfortable. And then they pulled out some long thin sticks, which had some string on the end of them. And they started throwing their lines into the pond.

“What are they doing?” said the young Colin.

“I don’t know,” said his great friend, Crispen the Carp. “Let’s watch and find out.”

So they stuck their little faces out of the water and watched them.

“Well, well,” said one of the men. “It’s a good day for fishing, I reckon.”

And as he did said this, he again tossed the line into the water not far away from Colin. Right on the end of the line was the biggest, juiciest dead insect that Colin or Crispen had ever seen.

“Wow, Jam-ie,” said Colin enthusiastically, because of course he wasn’t at all grumpy in those days. “I see what fishing is. It’s when humans come along and feed delicious snacks to the fish – and in particular the young carp — just to show how much they appreciate them.”

And he started to swim nearer to the yummy-scrummy looking dead insect.

“No, wait,” said Crispen. “My mummy told me never to accept dead flies from strange men.”

So Colin waited. He but he felt a bit sad, because the fly really looked really, really tasty. It was so fat and juicy that it was simply irresistible, And so he just couldn’t help opening his mouth and snapping it up – but oh no, now he felt a terrible yank in his mouth and suddenly he found himself wriggling in the middle of the air. And soon he was gasping from breath – for you see, as he’s a fish, he can’t stick his head out of the water for more than a short time.

“Oh dear” thought Colin. “I think I’ve been a bit silly.”

“Oooooo!” Squealed” squeeled Crispen. “It’s all a nasty, horrid trick… Poor Colin – now those men are going to bang him on the head and fry him for dinner with chips and peas and tomato sauce on the side – that’s what my mummmy said people do to fish”

And as Colin was was wriggling in the air, one of the two men said. “Oh no, there’s nothing but stupid baby carp in this pond.”

“It’s all rubbish,” snorted his friend. “Carp are the most tasteless boring fish in the world. Besides, that’s only a tiddler. Chuck him back in the water and let’s go home. My wife’s cooking fish fingers for lunch.”

And so the man unhooked Colin and threw him back into the water. His mouth felt like he had the worst tooth ache ever. He sank to the bottom of the pond and hid under a stone, until much later when his mummy came and found him.

“So, you see,” said Colin as he finished the story. “After that, I decided that the whole world was a rotten place. Nobody likes carp – not even the fishermen. And if no one likes carp, then carp don’t like anyone else.”

All the pond life sat round quite silently, since it was really a very sad story, and they all felt a bit sorry for Colin.

Then Sadie the Swan said: “But don’t you see, Colin, its actually better if people don’t like you, because it means they don’t want to eat you. So really you had a lot to be happy about that morning, not sad.”

“And I like you too, Colin,” said Tim. “Because you were once young and had silly thoughts, just like me.”

“And we all know its better just to live together on the pond,” said Bertie. “And listen to Nataha’s stories.”

And on hearing all these kind words, Colin cheered up, just a bit, and even gave a small scaly smile. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll try not be quite so grumpy. Just so long as Tim doesn’t ask any more silly questions, and Bertie keeps his fat ugly mouth….”

“Now, now, Colin,” I told him. “That’s enough grumping for one day.”

Download Bertie on Holiday

Prince Bertie has been on a secret mission to save the royal family and the honour of the lovely Princess Beatrice. In this special Bertie story, our hero is turned back into a Prince – but don’t worry – this is not the final Prince Bertie Story. You will have to listen to the end to see what happens .Read by Natasha. Duration 24 minutes.

It all started a few weeks ago. It was a really, really hot day. All the pond life was sitting out by the water enjoying the sunshine. Well, all except Colin the Carp who was moaning that the water was starting to feel more like a hot bath than a pond.

Then all of a sudden, there was a strong gust of wind, and a newspaper that had been carried on the air landed on the lawn. “Oh, my,” sighed Sadie the Swan. “There’s a picture of the lovely Princess Beatrice on the front page. Isn’t she just wonderful? What does the newspaper say about her, Bertie?

Now, as you probably know, Bertie used to be a Prince and he was engaged to be married to Princess Beatrice, who he thought was the most beautiful, sweetest Princess in the world. But her wicked step-mother didn’t like Bertie much, so she turned him into a frog, and now he sits in the pond telling stories. He still loves Princess Beatrice, though, and won’t hear a word said against her. As it happens, he is the only creature on the pond who knows how to read, and so he spelled out the headline for Sadie and the others. It read:

“Princess Greedy Guts!”

Prince Bertie held up the picture and he was so angry his face went bright red….well, a sort of greenish-red actually, because he is a frog.

The picture showed the lovely princess Beatrice wearing a yellow bikini and licking a double ice cream with a chocolate flake while holding a hot dog her other hand. Underneath the picture the newspaper read:

Since the strange disappearance of her husband to be, the less than intellectual Prince Bertie, the “lovely” Princess Beatrice has taken to stuffing her face with nosh all day long. Turn to pages 3,4,5,6, and 7 for our exclusive pictures of Princess Fattie on the Beach. See our close-ups of her horrible acne.

“I…I…” spluttered Bertie. He had never been so angry in his entire life. “How dare they make up these filthy fibs? Beatrice, is, the most lovely, charming, sweetest creature who ever lived…”

“She’s a fatty,” snarled Colin. “Just like you ”

With that, Colin dived straight down to the bottom of the pond so that Bertie couldn’t thump him, which is what he usually did when Colin said something horrible.

Bertie turned to the Newspaper’s opinion page. There he read that royal family was lounging around in the sun enjoying itself while the rest of the kingdom was going to the dogs. “Why do we need the Royal Layabouts?” it asked. “Isn’t it time for a Republic?”

Sadie hissed her disapproval. All the pondlife know that she is an ardent royalist. She was so indignant, that some of her beautiful black feathers turned quite white.

“What’s a Republic?” asked Tim.

“It’s a very silly kind of country,” snooted Bertie. “Without any Kings or Queens or…or…..

“Princes…” ventured Tim, slightly timidly, because he could see Bertie was quite upset.

“It’s clear what must be done,” declared Bertie. “I am a royal prince, and Beatrice is my princess. I shall go and defend her.”

But first he needed a plan.

You see, Beatrice and the royal family had all gone on holiday on the royal yacht, which was moored in the south of France. And Bertie was only a frog, so he didn’t have any way of getting there, until Tim the Tadpole came up with a rather clever idea. “Bertie, why don’t you post yourself to France?” he said.

“He’s too fat,” gurgled Colin the Carp, still hiding in some mud, so that Bertie couldn’t thump him.

Now using the post seemed like a very good idea – surprising really, when you think that Tim, who is a very silly Tadpole, thought it up.. Sadie the Swan noticed a Federal Express box near the palace doors, which was being used to courier the King’s favourite food across to France – Marmite, since as everyone knows you can’t get Marmite in France.

So that night, Sadie and Bertie crept across to the palace. They opened the box, and Bertie hopped inside, squeezing in between two jars of Marmite, and a Creme Egg that had been packed for Beatrice’s step-mother. And then Sadie bit an airhole into the box so that Bertie could breathe, and wrapped it up again.

“Oh dear Bertie,” said Sadie. “You are so brave and noble…just the kind of Prince a girl wants, apart from the fact that you’re a frog, but never mind that, you’re wonderful just the same, even though you’re green and got big bulging eyes… I mean, I’m sure you’ll do the royal family proud.”

In the morning, the courier company arrived and picked up the box. Bertie could feel himself going bump, bump, bump in the van. Then he felt himself going whoosh, whoosh, whoosh as the box was whisked around the airport. Then all of a sudden, there was a huge roaring sound, and Bertie realised the plane must have taken off. His box was being thrown from side to side, and the Creme Egg bashed him in the tummy.

Bertie felt rather frightened, and was starting to wonder of it really mattered if the papers were a bit horrid about Princess Beatrice. After all, it was only words.

After a while, the plane stabilised, and Bertie began to feel a bit peckish. He opened a jar of Marmite and started to lick the lid. But he had only tasted Marmite on toast before, and he didn’t realise quite how horrid it tasted when you ate it on its own. His mouth felt so yucky, he decided to nibble a bit of the Creme Egg to take the taste away. It tasted yummy, so he had a bit more. And before he knew it, he’d eaten the whole Creme Egg, and was feeling very sleepy. And, although he would never admit it to Colin the Carp, a bit fat as well.

Bertie was halfway through a dream about winning an Olympic Gold Medal for skateboarding, when suddenly he awoke with a start. He could see Princess Beatrice’s wicked step-mother peering into the box. “Somebody’s eaten my Creme Egg!” she hissed.

Bertie realised that he must have dozed off, and by now he must be on the royal yacht. He leapt out of the box and hopped across to the far corner of the room. Just then the lovely Princess Beatrice came into the room, looking, to tell you the truth, just a little bit more plump than he remembered, but lovely just the same. Bertie tried to call out to her, but instead of the words “Beatrice my love” all that came out his mouth was one big

CROAK!

“AAAAG!” screamed Beatrice. “Its a horrid, horrid green reptile YUKIE!!!.”

And she ran out of the room.

The wicked step-mother started to walk towards Bertie, with a huge fly swatter in her hand, and Bertie’s legs started to wobble with fright. There was a nasty, mean, cruel, look in her eye – just like when she first turned him into a frog. If anything, she looked even nastier, meaner and more murderous this time than before. “Croak, croak,” he spluttered, quite certain that he had just croaked his last.

The wicked step-mother paused. “Bertie,” she said, looking him straight in his bulging eye. “Is that you?”

Bertie remained silent.

“One croak for yes, two for no,” screamed the wicked step-mother with a swoosh of her fly-swat.

Bertie croaked once.

“Hmmm,” she said slowly. She looked very angry, but then her face twisted into a sort of smile, although not a very nice one. “Prince Bertie might come in very useful right now. I have a proposition for you young man…er, I mean frog. If I turn you back into a Prince, will you deal with all the photographers and journalists who are being beastly to the royal family?”

“Croak…”

“Very well,” said the Wicked Step-Mother. “But if you so much as glance at Princess Beatrice I’ll turn you straight back into a frog! And you can hop and croak for the rest of your days! ”

She wagged her finger at Bertie, in a menacing sort of a way. “Is that agreed? Do you, Prince Bertie the Frog swear not to gawp at my stepdaughter? Cross your heart and hope to die? ”

“Croak…” said Bertie.

And then, suddenly, with a snap of her wicked fingers, the spell was unbroken. And Bertie was a Prince again.

He felt a bit strange at first. He legs were a bit bendy, and he could hardly hop at all. But he could walk, and talk again, just like he used to.

“It’s just marvellous….” he said in a croaky voice.

“Enough!” shrieked the Wicked Step-mother crossly. “The top photographers of all the world’s most famous newspapers are gathered out there. Now go and deal with the filthy, garbage-eating swine like a true prince!”

Bertie stepped up to the deck of the yacht. It was moored in a big marina, with lots of big boats in it. And across on the shore there were dozens of photographers, with huge cameras, and they were all pointing straight at the royal yacht.

Bertie was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing just before he was turning into a frog – shorts, a tee shirt and baseball cap, so that he didn’t look like a Prince at all. In fact he looked like a skateboarder, which for Bertie was just great, because that was his favourite thing. He strode up onto the deck of the yacht, then walked across the jetty until he was on the pier. He looked across at the all the photographers, stopping along the way to buy an ice lolly.

“I say chaps,” he said, standing right in front of one of the camera-men. “I hear your all being jolly beastly to the royal family. Well I think that’s…er….er….er…..rotten. So just jolly well stop it.”

Bertie expected the cameramen to fold away their equipment and start going home. But instead, they just turned and looked at him. At first they were slightly surprised…. and then they started laughing.

The one of them took his ice-lolly, and started eating it. “Naff off you big wally,” he said. “Ain’t you never heard of the freedom of the press? We just doing our democratic duty on behalf of the people.”

“It’ll be a Republic soon,” said another. “Then there won’t be any royals for us to bother.”

Up on deck, Bertie caught a guilty glance at Princess Beatrice. He swiftly turned his head away, in case the stepmother saw him looking at her. All the photographers rushed forwards, and started snapping away. Some of them were laughing, and Bertie could hear one of them saying: “Great stuff. The editor wanted another Princess Fatty spread for the morning, and now we’ve got everything we need.”

Bertie was so angry he took a swipe at one of the men. But he ducked, and Bertie fell flat on the ground. The next thing he knew he was lying on the dock, feeling dizzy. As he looked up, a camera lens was staring straight at him. “Give us a grin, mate,” said the photographer. “We’ll use your ugly mug for our next health special — how sitting in the sun too much can turn you into a wally.”

The photographers headed for the nearest bar. Bertie got up feeling quite sorry for himself. If he was going to stop them, he realised, he would have to come up with a cunning plan.

But what?

He walked up and down the seafront, eating three ice lollies, and thinking and thinking and thinking….

And then suddenly he had a brainwave. The only thing that would make the photographers go away was….an even better story.

So Bertie hatched a clever ruse. He went back to the royal yacht and found his old cabin. Sure enough, his royal uniform was still hanging in the cupboard, with white starched cuffs and collars and perfect creases in the trousers. He put it on and admired himself in the mirror. He looked like an admiral, with a peaked cap and gold braid on his shoulders and wrists. But something was missing. He couldn’t think what, and then he remembered: his gold sword and scabbard for extra special occassions. He found it leaning in the corner and attached it to his side. Now he looked the perfect picture of a true prince, because when princes are on holiday, they always go around dressed like admirals.

Out on the dock, Bertie resisted the temptation to buy another ice-lolly. Instead he started to walk up and down looking as royal as posssible. Some people started to stare, and then a young girl came up to him and said,

“Excuse me sir, are you the handsome Prince Bertie”

“Why certainly Miss,” boomed Berite. “I’m just on a royal walk-about.”

The girl turned around and called to her friends, “Tracy, Sharon, Trish! Look who’s turned up. It’s Prince Bertie!” And Tracy, Sharon and Trish ran over to get a better look. Bertie couldn’t stop Sharon from throwing her arms around him and kissing him on the lips. It was all he could do to stop his admiral’s cap falling off. Soon a crowd of French and English holidaymakers gathered round. The wicked step-mother stood on the deck of the yacht and called out, “Hurrah for the royal family!  Long live Prince Bertie” and she used a magic spell so it sounded like lots of people were cheering and shouting. A band started to play on the deck of the yacht, and soon people really were shouting nice things about Bertie and the Royals.

The photographers came out of the bar to see what the noise was about. Soon they were snapping away with their cameras.

“Excuse me sir,” said one, “would you be so kind as to tell the Daily Beast where you have been these past months? Your fans have been sorely missing you since your disappearance.”

“My dear chap,” said Bertie, “You know how I always like to help out the gentlemen of the press. But I’m afraid that on this occasion my lips are sealed. It’s a royal secret, you see. ”

The evening editions of the newspapers, not to mention all the news on the internet and the TV ,were full of the story of Prince Bertie’s remarkable reappearance after months away on a top secret mission to save civilisation. Some editors even wrote that the Kingdom was safe in Bertie’s hands, and begged that he be made joint king right away, and added that the monarchy was just super-duper. A Sunday newspaper prepared an article about the beautiful curvaceous Princess Beatrice. Even the wicked step-mother had her picture on the cover of a fashion magazine, wearing her most fetching long black evening gown with a diamond-studded tiara in her hair, though some people could not help noticing that her eyes had a strange, eerie glow to them.

But before Bertie could see the results of all his cleverness, he slipped away from the crowd and sneaked up the gangplank back into the royal yacht.

The Wicked Step-mother met him and said, “Well, Bertie, that wasn’t a bad go, considering that you’ve never been the brightest bulb in the box”

“Well, I think it was rather clever of me,” said Bertie proudly.

Just then the Princess Beatrice walked along the opposite deck, looking, as sweet and lovely as ever….although even Bertie was wondering if she hadn’t maybe put on a little bit of weight.

Bertie just couldn’t help turning his eyes to catch a glimpse of her royal loveliness.

“That’s torn it!,” shouted the Wicked Step-mother. And she frantically waved her arms to cast a wicked spell. In the next instant, before Beatrice could catch sight of him, poor old Bertie was a frog once again.

“Croak,” he said, rather sadly.

“You can’t say I didn’t warn you!” snapped back the Wicked Step-Mother.

And with that she chased Bertie back into the box, slammed down the lid, and marked it to be sent back to the palace pond. But she wasn’t that cross with Bertie really, so she slipped in a Creme Egg for him to eat, and a copy of the Wizzo Skateboarder magazine to read on the way.

By Storynory

Download The Sweetest Princess Competition

Almost all The Pondlife agree that Princess Beatrice is the sweetest princess who ever lived in the entire history of the universe (Only Colin the Grumpy Carp disputes this fact). She is so kind to children and fluffy bunny rabbits that she makes her wicked step-mother feel quite sick just thinking about her. But did you know, that when Beatrice was just a teenage princess in training, she entered a sweetest princess competition? Up until now, the inside story has been kept secret, but Sadie the Swan has persuaded Bertie to reveal all.

Read by Natasha. Duration 19.20 minutes.

The other day, I was just sitting in the orchid watching the wind blow through the trees, when I caught sight of the lovely Princess Beatrice. She had come down to the palace to feed bread to the greedy little duckings who live in the pond. (quack) Sadie, the beautiful black swan didn’t join in the unseemly rush for soggy food. Instead, she sat elegantly on the water, watching Princess Beatrice. Everyone who lives on the pond knows that there is no greater admirer of royalty than Sadie the Swan.

“Oh my!” she sighed, “Isn’t Princess Beatrice  just the sweetest creature who ever lived?”

Now apart from me, the only person to hear Sadie say this, was Colin the Grumpy Carp, and he lost no time in answering her question. “Rubbish” he said, sticking his not too pretty face out of the water. “That Beatrice is just putting on a show. She only pretends to be sweet to fool the masses and the dumb pond life.”

Now there are times when Sadie would have turned and hissed at Colin so fiercely that he would have dived straight for the bottom of the pond. But she had to keep up appearences in the presence of somebody as lovely and royal as Princess Beatrice, and so she held her elegant neck aloft and ignored him, until Bertie the frog came hopping along from lily pad to lily pad.

As you most probably know, before he was a frog, Bertie used to be a handsome prince, and was engaged to be married to Princess Beatrice. Bertie is therefore considered to be something of an expert on matters royal.

“Bertie,” said Sadie, “Tell this ignorant fish that Princess Beatrice is the loveliest and sweetest princess in the entire universe.”

“Well of course,” boomed Bertie. “Everybody knows that.”

“How do they know? grumped Colin. “She’s most probably just pretending to be sweet, because her Public Relations manager told to act that way. In my view, this royal thing is all just a sham. Royalty are no better than the rest of us. No better than the silliest tadpoles in the pond.”

“I know because she told me,” answered Bertie. “And besides, I heard all about the sweetest Princess contest she took part in when she was just a teanage trainee princess.”

“Oh, do tell us about it Bertie,” said Sadie. ”

“Well” he hesitated. “The inside story is supposed to be a secret.”

Sadie huffed, “Dear frog. There are no secrets on this pond.”

“What about your age?” grumped Colin the Carp, a question which Sadie ignored.

And so Bertie started to tell the story of the Sweetest Princess. And I pricked up my ears, because I thought it might be very interesting.

Some years ago, when the Princess Beatrice was still just a teenager, she lived in the palace with her father the King, who was nice but very busy in the office, what with being King and everything, and also with her step-mother, who wasn’t so nice.

Princess Beatrice was the sweetest little Princess who ever lived. She spent her entire day combing her collection of pink and white fluffy bunnies, and raising money to help look after small animals.

Now, one day Beatrice’s stepmother, read in the newspaper that a television company was organising a competition called Who is the Sweetest Princess?

The prize was to be a free holiday on the most luxuriuos ten star beach resort in the entire world. Beatrice’s step-mother really, really wanted to go on that holiday.

The stepmother said to herself, “Beatrice is so sweet that she makes my back tooth ache just looking at her. Every time she smiles with those dimply little cheeks, I want to throw up. She couldn’t fail to win that competition.”

And so turning to young Beatrice she said,

“Beatrice,  enter that competition right away, and make sure you don’t lose.”

Beatrice, who was not at all sure that she wanted to appear on television, especially as she thought the King would say that the programme was rather cheap and nasty, and not at all royal, said,

“Dearest Step-mother. Please excuse me. I would rather not.”

The step-mother who was secretly furious, put on her sweetest smile, which actually wasn’t very sweet at all, and said to Beatrice,

“Please please, Beatrice, Pretty Please, With pink bows, and fluffy knots on it.’

Beatrice was rather surprised to hear her step-mother speak to her so nicely, as it wasn’t her usual way at all, and she and looked up from the pair of pink ear-muffs that she was knitting for her favourite bunny.

“Well, maybe.”

The step-mother smiled again, so that Beatrice could see her gold-capped teeth, and she said, “Oh go on Beatrice, please please, pretty please, with pink bows, and fluffy knotts, and strawberries and cream on it.”

“Oh, well, alright then”, said Beatrice, still not quite sure that it was a good idea.

The step-mother was very pleased with this result, and said to herself, “And when she wins the holiday, as she most certainly will, I will put a spell on Beatrice so she gets a tummy ache and has to stay behind. It will be just wonderful to get away from the horrid children for a whole month.”

But as the day of the contest drew nearer, the step-mother began to have doubts. She saw a picture of the two other contestants, Princess Daisy and Princess Theadora, and if anything they looked even more curly, dimply and revoltingly sweet than Beatrice.

“Now listen,” she said to Beatrice as the maid combed her long golden hair, “Just remember one thing. If in doubt, cheat. Here’s a mobile phone. If you need anything, just send me a text and I’ll put a spell on those other two nasty little princesses and make them come out in pulsating warts.”

“Oh no, dear step-mother,” replied Beatrice. “I couldn’t take a mobile phone with me. It’s against the rules of the competition.”

“Hopeless, just hopeless” said the wicked step-mother under her breath.

The idea of the competition was that three Princesses would be placed inside a huge palace — and the audience at home would decide which of them was the sweetest, kindest Princess in the whole wide world. Except it wasn’t really a palace at all — more like a lot of cardboard painted pink.

Inside the cardboard palace, there were bright lights and remote TV cameras that followed the three contestants’ every move. It was very strange, and Beatrice didn’t feel comfortable. She was a bit afraid. She’d never been on television before. And when she thought hard about it, she really wasn’t so sure she was the sweetest princess after all. But fortunately she had broought her softest, cuddliest toy with her to cheer herself up.

She waved faintly at the camera that had a little red light shining on it and said, “Hello everybody. My only wish is that the sweetest princess should win fair and square.”

“Thank you dearest Beatrice” said Princess Daisy, who had two great red ribbons in her hair, “It is very gracious of you to wish me luck.”

Neither Daisy or Theodora seemed very friendly, and Beatrice wasn’t sure they were sweet at all, but she didn’t like to say anything. Before the first test, they were given juice and biscuits, but when the camera wasn’t looking Theadora poured salt into Beatrice’s juice, so that when she took a sip she spluttered and grimaced most un-sweetly.

“Oh dear dear dear, dearest Beatrice, let me pat you gently on the back” said Theadora, smiling sweetly to the camera.

Back home in the real palace, the Wicked Queen was watching all this on television, and cursing the sweet stupidity of he step-daughter.

Now the competition began for real. The first task was to find a small animal to help.

The three princesses stood at the beginning of the garden path.

“Nobody is sweeter than me,” wailed Daisy. “Not, not, not…”

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, no one is as sweet, as sweet as me,” cried Theadora.

Daisy ran down the path– and came back with a floppy little bunny rabbit, and started feeding it scraps of lettuce.

Theodora ran down to the pond, and came back with a yellow fluffy duckling — and fed it little pieces of freshly baked French bread.

But when Beatrice went out to the garden she couldn’t find any animals to help — and she came back with nothing at all.

Back home, in the living room of the palace, the step-mother screached “Curses! DRAT”. “My magic won’t work with all those bright lights and electric cables around the place, or I would soon turn those two little princesses into slithering worms or slimy snails.’

On the second day, the Princesses had to raise some money for charity.

Daisy went out to the street and set up a collection point — and by the end of the day had raised loads of money.

Theodora set up a donation hotline — and by the end of the day had raised even more.

But Beatrice couldn’t find anyone to raise money from — and so at the end of the day she had nothing.

“You’re just useless, useless, useless,” cried Daisy.

“You’re not sweet, you’re sour,” laughed Theodora.

And they both went away giggling. Beatrice lay awake half the night. She didn’t mind about the stupid competition, but she was worried about leaving the real animal rescue home that she kept at the palace. She just wished that the Television Director would throw her out of the competition early so that she could go back home.

Then, on the third and final day of the contest, the Princesses had to open a Very Important Building.

Daisy was whisked away in a carriage to open a new hospital — and then toured the building, talking very sweetly to the sick children.

And Theodora was whisked off in a big car to open a new school — and spent the day very sweetly helping all the little children with their homework.

But Beatrice couldn’t find anything to open except for a new rubbish dump, and she wasn’t sure that was going to look very good at all.

Still, she started walking towards the dump, even though it was a bit smelly. But just as she was approaching, she heard a tiny squeaking sound. She looked down and there was a small rat. And she could see that he had broken his foot.

“Oh dear,” said Beatrice, picking up the rat. “You’re in terrible pain. I’d better take you back and get that fixed.”

“But you’re supposed to open the rubbish dump,” said the rat.

“I can’t just leave you…”

So she took the rat back to the palace, and bandaged his leg, and gave it a piece of cheese to make him feel better.

And when Theodora and Daisy came back they looked at the rat….and screamed.

“Get that horrid horrid creature out of here,” shouted Daisy.

“But he’s hurt,” said Beatrice.

“I don’t care,” interrupted Theodora, stamping her foot. “I don’t, I don’t, I don’t…”

Just then, the the presenter of the Television show came running into the palace clutching a microphone.

“You can relax your Royal Highnesses. It’s all over. The viewers at home have voted and chosen the sweetest princess.”

“I’m the sweetest,” said Daisy.

“No, no, I’m the sweetest,” said Theodora.

And Beatrice just remained silent, because it seemed to her she hadn’t done very well in the competition at all.

And the TV presenter looked at Theodora and she said: “Our secret camera filmed how you arranged for that animal to be placed in the garden, just so you would look good in the competition.”

And she looked at Daisy, and said: “And all the viewers saw how you arranged for lots of people to donate to your charity, just so you would look good in the competition.”

And then she looked at Beatrice, and said: “The only person here who has done a kind, unselfish thing, and thought of others before themselves is you. And so the entire world loves you. Who could help but loving such a sweet princess? You are the winner, Beatrice.”

And she was so happy, she even gave the rat a hug. And she looked across at Daisy and Theodora, and even though she knew it was a bit naughty, and not very sweet at all, stuck out her tongue and said: “Nah, nah, na-na-nah.” And do you know what? Even the wicked step-mother cheered and thought, just for a moment, what a clever daughter she had.

Download Tim’s Swimming Lesson

All the pond life who live with Bertie the Frog agree that the silliest creature by far is Tim the Tadpole. Colin the Carp is always complaining about his silly questions. Even so, the creatures were amazed recently when Tim suggested that all the fishes, frogs, and tadpoles should have swimming lessons. In fact, Colin said that was the silliest thing he had ever heard. But as this brief tale goes to show, even the dumbest ideas can sometimes lead to good ones.

Read by Natasha. Duration 5.5 minutes.

As you know, Bertie used to be a handsome prince, but now he’s a frog. His little friend Tim the Tadpole has been has been asking him about his life in the palace when he was a prince.

“What did you do on Wednesdays, Bertie?” asked little Tim.

Bertie tried to remember. He was pretty sure that Wednesdays in the palace began like most other days, with his feet in comfy slippers, a copy of his favourite comic on a silver tray, and toast dripping with lots of lovely honey. But what happened after that?

“Ah yes,” he said, “Wednesdays were for swimming lessons.”

Tim grew very excited at this; “What a wonderful idea. Can we have swimming lessons here on the pond?’

Colin the grumpy Carp overheard this suggestion of Tim’s and barged in, as is his way, with a rude comment. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard yet. Tadpoles don’t don’t know much, but at least they’re supposed to know how to swim.”

Tim swam around in circles for a bit and thought about this. After a minute or so, he came up with another idea.

“Well can we have walking lessons then? I don’t know how to walk, and I think it would be a terribly useful thing to know how to do. Please Bertie. Show us how to walk. Princes know everything, so I’m sure you can teach us how to walk beautifully.”

Colin was about to point out that the reason that Tim couldn’t walk was that he didn’t have any legs. But he was in a particularly grumpy mood that morning, and he thought to himself, “What’s the point? These creatures are too stupid for words. I might as well talk to stone – it would be more interesting.” So Colin sank down to the bottom of the pond to find an interesting stone he could talk to. A little later, he looked up through the water and saw that Bertie had hopped onto the bank of the pond.

“There you are,” Colin said to the stone. “That stupid frog is trying to walk. But his legs are too bendy. That’s why frogs don’t walk. They hop.”

And sure enough, Bertie found that walking wasn’t so easy as it was in the old days when he was a handsome prince. He tried to put one foot in front of the other, but he couldn’t. His legs just weren’t made that way anymore.

“Croak!” he said. “Walking is more difficult than I remembered.” A moment later, he bent both legs, and than sprang two feet in the air. Little Tim was mighty impressed and called out, “That was great. Go on Bertie! Walk again!”

This was too much for Colin. He rose to the top of the pond and stuck his mouth out of the water. “That’s not walking,” he said, “That’s hopping and not very good hopping at that.”

“Well,” said Bertie, “It’s true that Tadpoles and frogs are not so good at walking as Princes are. But one day, Little Tim will start to grow legs like all tadpoles do when they get older. Then he will turn into a frog like me and will be able to hop on land whenever he wants to, and swim in the pond whenever he wants to. That’s twice as clever as you. You’ll never be able to hop, you grumpy old fish.”

“Pa! Pond Life!” said Colin. And he sank to the bottom of the pond to continue his conversation with his new friend the stone.

But one day, if enough children listen to Bertie’s stories, he’ll turn back into a handsome prince and he’ll be able show everybody how well Princes can walk, with straight backs, and holding their chins up high. He’ll have swimming lessons every Wednesday again, and perhaps he will invite his pond life friends to joining him in the pool and watch him dive bomb Colin the Carp with a big splash.

Download How Prince Bertie Ran Away

As everyone knows, before Prince Bertie was turned into a frog, he was a handsome prince. But did you know that before Bertie was a prince, he was a princeling, which is like a prince, only smaller?

Up until now, this story has been kept as a closely guarded secret, but we can now exclusively reveal how Bertie ran away from his home in the palace when he was still a small boy.

We now have some background about Prince Bertie the Frog and his pondlife friends.

Read by Natasha. Duration 20 Minutes.

How Prince Bertie ran away from home.

Hello. My name is Natasha, and his Royal Highness Prince Bertie the Frog has commanded me to tell you a storynory.

The other day, I was sitting by the pond, picking some daisies to make into a daisy chain, when I happened to overhear Prince Bertie the Frog talking to his friend Tim the Tadpole.

As you probably know, before he was a frog, Bertie used to be a Prince. And before that, he was a Princeling — which is like a Prince, only a bit smaller.

And Tim was asking him all the different adventures he had when he was a Princeling.

“Okay, little Tim,” said Bertie. “Let me tell you the story of the day I ran away from home.”

And when I heard that, I put down my daisy chain, and pricked up my ears. Because I didn’t realise Bertie had run away from home, and it sounded really quite interesting.

So would you like to hear the story?

You would?

All right, let me see if I can remember.

When he was a small Princeling, Bertie lived in the palace, with his little brother Harry.

Harry was quite a small Princeling too, even smaller than Bertie, and had red hair, and was very, very annoying.

One day, Bertie had a brand new toy fire truck. It was bright red, and had lots of bells and whistles. And, when Bertie wasn’t looking, Harry sneaked up, and broke its ladder off.

When the royal nanny came into the room, she said “Oh, no. Who broke that new truck?”

“Bertie did,” said Harry in a weasel sort of a voice.

“Prince Bertie did no such thing,” said Bertie, talking about himself in same way that his father, the king, always spoke of himself, as if he was somebody else entirely.

“Did too.” said Harry.

“Did not.” said Bertie.

“Did, did, did,” screamed Harry, stamping his foot on the ground and bursting into tears.

And the royal nanny ordered Bertie to go to bed without any supper. Bertie was so surprised he stood on the spot with his mouth open. He did not think that anybody had the right to order a princeling to go to bed before his bedtime, let alone without eating his supper.

“RIGHT NOW!” shouted the Royal Nanny, and she looked so fierce that he thought he had better do as she said.

As Bertie was lying in bed, he could see the sun shining through the curtains and hear Harry and the other princelings playing outside.

He was very, very cross. What made him particularly furious was that Nanny was allowing Harry to stay up later than usual, even though he was three years younger than Bertie. He was also very hungry because he hadn’t had anything to eat.

“I know,” he thought, “I will run away and found another Kingdom. Then I’ll declare war on Harry’s Kingdom, and he’ll be sorry he broke my fire truck and told nasty fibs about me.”

So he decided to escape from the Palace. Later on, when it was dark, he made a rope out of sheets, and dropped it out of the window, and then started to climb down. He felt a bit nervous, because it was a long way, and he wondered if he should go back…. but then he started sliding, and before he knew it, he was on the ground. He ran across the moonlit garden to a place in the palace fence where he knew one of the railings was missing. He squeezed through, and started to walk quickly down the road. The last time he had been out of the palace had been on the Queen’s birthday, when they had ridden in a coach and horses and waved to all the people who cheered and hip-hip-hoorayed. Now nobody seemed to recognise him. “That’s because it’s dark” thought Bertie, “and in any case they are not expecting to see a princeling at this time of night.”

He came to a big square that was full of traffic and moving lights advertising fizzy drinks, shiny fast cars, and boring things like banks and insurance companies. The pavement was so full of people out for the evening, that he could hardly move, but still nobody recognised him. He was starting to get tired, and was so hungry that he felt like he had a big hole in his tummy.

There were lots of shops, several cinemas…. and even a branch of Stuart’s Burger Bar. Now Bertie had heard all about Stuart’s, and he knew that they had Stu-Burgers. and Stu-Nuggets, and Stu-Chips. And best of all, every meal at Stuart’s came with a free toy. But he had never set foot inside Stuart’s, because his mother, the Queen, had forbidden him to do so. “You must learn, dear Bertie,” she used to say when they went past in their golden coach pulled by six white horses, “that princes don’t eat burgers. They make one fat and spotty, and cause constipation, and that wouldn’t do for a royal, now would it?”

But it’s a well-known fact that the more you are forbidden to do something, the more you want to do it. And so as he walked towards the burger bar, Bertie thought, “Princes need to try everything once. I’ll just pop in and have one burger and besides, a free toy can’t hurt.”

Inside, there were bright lights. And a play area. And best of all, you could get a mega-zappa laser gun as the free toy with your ‘Smiley Meal’.

“One Smiley Meal, with burger and chips and fizzy sugary water, ” said Bertie when he reached the counter. “And a free toy, please!”

The woman behind the desk put the food on a plastic tray, then looked down at Bertie and said. “That will be 2.99.”

Bertie paused for a minute.

You see, he was a princeling, and everyone knew that one day he would grow up into a handsome prince, and eventually he would be a king, and so no one had ever asked him for money before.

“Oh, that’s alright,” said Bertie. “I don’t need to pay.”

“Everyone needs to pay,” said the lady sternly. “If you don’t pay, you don’t eat.”

“No really, “I’m Prince Bertie”, he said. “You know me surely. I live in the Palace.”

“And I’m Queen Lah-de-Dah,” said the lady, leaning forward. “You know, from the gutter.”

And she looked around to all the other workers at Stuart’s, and they all laughed.

“He says he’s a prince,” she mocked. “He says he doesn’t have to pay.”

Bertie felt very small — even smaller than the two foot that he was when he was a Princeling.

“Well, well,” he stuttered. “Maybe I could just have the free toy.”

“That’ll be 1.50,” said the lady.

“But it’s a FREE toy.”

“Free with a MEAL,” shrieked the lady. “You really are a trouble maker. Now hop off.”

At that very moment, the boy behind him in the queue gave Bertie a push. “Yeah, you’re a trouble maker, now buzz off.”

“I’m a prince,” said Bertie.

“Prince Stupid,” said the boy.

Outside on the pavement, a group of boys, all much bigger than Bertie, crowded around him. And they all started shouting “Prince Stupid…Prince Stupid…Prince Stupid.”

And Bertie started to feel a bit scared, but all the same, he knew that as he really was a prince, he was supposed to be brave.

“If I had my prince’s sword,” he said sternly, “I would cut your heads off.”

“Na-na-na-na-na” said one of the gang who, to Bertie’s disgust, turned out to be a girl. And then she did something truly horrid. She spat in his face. If she had been a boy, Bertie would have bashed her on the nose, but he knew that princes weren’t supposed to hit girls, so he wiped the gob of his face and did his best to look royal.

“And you,” he said in a dignified manner, “are a very badly brought up girl.”

Just then one of the boys hit Bertie over the ear. Without thinking, Bertie punched the boy back, and even though his attacker was bigger than him, Bertie made his nose bleed. The horrid girl grabbed Bertie by the ear and started to twist it, and Bertie decided that this was too much, so even though she was a girl, he turned round and bit her arm. She screamed, but nobody heard, because just then a police siren sounded, and a white van pulled up. Six large policemen jumped of the van, blowing whistles, waving truncheons, and saying “What’s all this then?”

“Thank goodness you got here,” said Bertie. “Officers, arrest this gang for High Treason. They have just attacked His Royal Highness Prince Bertie – that’s me by the way, as I’m sure you know.

The girl shrieked, “Look I’m bleeding. That little monster just bit me!”

The boy who had hit Bertie said, “He jumped on me from behind and see what he did to my nose!”

And the woman from the burger bar said, “And on top of all that, he just tried to steal a free toy!”

Bertie protested that they were all telling terrible fibs, even worse than his brother, Prince Harry’s, but the largest of the policemen picked Bertie up by the collar, and said, “Right, you’re coming with me laddie,”

“To the palace,” said Bertie hopefully.

“You could call it a palace if you want,” said the policeman roughly. “But we call it a jail.”

Bertie gulped. He was really, really sure that he did not want to go to the jail.

“I think I’d rather go to the palace, please,” said Bertie nervously.

The policeman laughed roughly. “I suppose all our visitors would rather go the palace….but you’re going to the jail.”

And with that, he slung Bertie into the back of the white police van – in the same way that Bertie had seen the rubbish collectors throw garbage into the back of their truck. Inside the van, there was a big, ugly police dog, who looked at Bertie and growled. And Bertie felt very nervous, and was starting to feel very sorry that he had run away. He was wishing he was back home again….even if Harry was very annoying.

“Here, Sarge,” said the policeman as they stepped into the police station. “We’ve got a little trouble maker here who’s been stealing free toys, hitting boys on the nose, and biting girls. Let’s put him in the cells and send him before the judge first thing tomorrow morning. I expect he’ll get at least six years behind bars for all his crimes.

“Oh, no, please,” said Bertie. “I promise to be good. And be nice to Harry. And, and, and…..I’ll even tidy my room.”

“Enough of your lip, laddie,” said the policeman. “And we’ll have no more of that nonsense about being a prince.”

And he was about to throw Bertie in the jail.

Then suddenly, Bertie noticed a picture, hanging slightly lop-sided on the wall behind the counter, with cobwebs hanging from the corner of the frame. It showed the King and Queen. And next to them the two little princelings, Bertie and Harry. “Look,” said Bertie quickly. “That’s me in the picture.”

The policeman was about to cuff Bertie around the ear, when he looked at the picture, and looked at Bertie. And he looked again. And again. And slowly his expression changed. “Blimey, sarge,” he said. And then, as he put Bertie down on the ground, he grovelled, “I’m truly sorry your Royal Highness. I didn’t know. Oh deary, deary me, What a silly mistake I’ve made. I suppose I’ll be drummed out of the force.”

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t order your head to be cut off,” said Bertie.

“Oh no Sir. My wife wouldn’t like that! She’s a great admirer of the royal family, truly she is. She always drinks her morning tea out of a royal souvenir mug for the anniversary of the King and Queen!”

“Well I suppose,” said Bertie, “That I may grant you a royal pardon, on condition that you take me to Stuart’s Burger Bar, and buy me a happy meal with a free mega-zappa laser gun.

And on the way back to Stuart’s Berger Bar, the police man was very friendly, and let Bertie, sit in the front of the van, and even allowed him to turn on the siren and go “wah-wah-wah” all down the street, which Bertie thought was the best thing ever.

The policeman carried Bertie into Stuart’s on his shoulders, and now everybody recognised him. The dinners began to cheer and shout, “Hurrah for the Royal Family!” and “Long Live Prince Bertie.” The woman behind the counter was rather afraid that Bertie might throw her into jail or even order her head to be cut off, but even she was forgiven when she brought an extra large Happy Meal to his table, with loads of tomato ketchup, and not one, but six mega Zapper Laser Guns.

And by the time the policeman dropped him off at the palace, they were firm friends. So much so that the policeman helped him climb back up the drain pipe, so that nobody would ever know he had even been out for the night.

And by the time he went to sleep, Bertie decided that he wouldn’t leave the palace by himself again, no matter how annoying Harry became…not until he was a grown up anyway.

The next morning, the Royal Nanny brought Bertie breakfast in bed, with kippers and eggy soldiers and loads of jam. She thought he would be extra hungry because he had gone to be without any dinner. But Bertie turned over and said,

“No thanks Nanny. I’m feeling just a little bit sick this morning.” He thought secretly to himself, “It can’t have been the fault of the the Stu-Burger. I must have had too much tomato ketchup.” And so Bertie stayed in bed all morning, and didn’t go to school that day, but he felt alright by lunch time.

And that’s the Storynory of how Prince Bertie ran away from home.

Tim the Tadpole says he enjoyed it a lot…but he’s not going to run away from the pond.

By Storynory

Download Prince Bertie and the Dragon

As you may know, our own Bertie the Frog used to be a handsome prince and was engaged to be married to the lovely Princess Beatrice. But then he was turned into a frog, and the wedding had to be called off. Sadie the Swan, who lives on the pond with Bertie, has been dying to know just how Bertie and Beatrice met and fell in love. We now reveal the secret of how Bertie fought a Welsh dragon to win the hand of Beatrice.

Read by Natasha Lee Lewis. Duration 19 minutes

Prince Bertie and the Dragon

Hello Everybody, my name’s Natasha, and I’m just dropping by with a juicy piece of gossip I just picked up from the pond where Bertie the frog lives.

Of course, Bertie used to be a handsome prince and was engaged to be married to the lovely princess Beatrice – but then he was turned into a frog and so the Royal Wedding was called off at the last minute. Well Sadie the Swan has been dying to learn how Prince Bertie and Princess Beatrice met and fell in love, but she’s been afraid to ask Bertie in case it’s private. As usual, Colin the Carp has been going around the pond spreading ugly rumours behind Bertie’s back. “the lovely Princess Beatrice can’t be that lovely,” he says. “Or else she would have found a half-decent prince, not a dunder-nut like Bertie.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” hissed Sadie when she heard this. “Princess Beatrice is famous all over the world for being lovely and ever so kind to children and animals. Only the lowest pond-life doesn’t know that.”

And so to put an end to Colin the Carp’s mutterings, she finally decided to ask Bertie to tell the story. As she feared, Bertie looked a little sad when he remembered the good old days before he was turned into a frog: “Oh dear, he sniffed, “Those were such happy times. We used to have chocolate cake every afternoon for tea, and I had a whole palace full of toys.” And then he croaked bravely, “But of course it wasn’t all play you know. Princes have work to do.”

“Oh do tell us about a prince’s work,” said Tiny Tim the Tadpole,

“Well for one thing,” said Bertie, “Princes are supposed to slay fire-breathing dragons. And as it happens, that’s how I won the hand of the lovely Princess Beatrice.”

At this point, Colin the Carp interupted rather rudely, “He’s just making it up,” he said. “Anyone with half a brain knows that dragons don’t exist.”

“Oh, yes they do,” said Bertie.

“Oh, no they don’t” said Colin.

“Well if you don’t believe in dragons, then don’t listen to the story,” said Bertie. And so Colin the Carp sunk to the bottom of the pond and pretended not to listen. But I was there, and I heard what Bertie told Sadie the swan and Tim the tadpole, and so now I will tell you the storynory of Prince Bertie and the Dragon.

Princess Beatrice lived in a far away kingdom called Wales, which is famous for having lots of dragons who live in caves and pop out and burn people by breathing fire on them. Apart from that, it’s a very nice place to live. Fortunately, the Welsh dragons don’t breath fire on people very often, unless they are in a bad mood about something. But there was a one particular dragon who was causing lots of trouble. He liked to sing songs, and when he did, fire came out of his mouth. One summer he burned down a whole forest with his singing. The king decided that enough was enough, and he announced that whosoever would slay the dragon, would win the hand in marriage of his daughter, the lovely Princess Beatrice.

Now as it happened, ever since the lovely Princess Beatrice had been a little girl, she had always done her maths homework on Tuesday evenings with Prince Freddie from the next door kingdom. A long time ago, she had decided to marry Prince Freddie, but she had kept her plan a secret. Her wicked step mother also wanted her to marry Freddie. You see, because although he was rather boring, he was terribly good at maths, and at saving money. He was also very good at growing vegetables in the garden. It was generally agreed that he would be a very sensible choice as a husband for the lovely Princess Beatrice. And so when the King announced the competition to slay the dragon with the prize of his daughter’s hand in marriage, Princess Beatrice was very sad.

“Oh no,” she said to her step mother, “I’ll never marry Prince Freddie now. You see, although he’s terribly clever, I don’t think he knows about fighting with swords and killing monsters. It’s not what he’s good at at all.”

When Prince Freddie heard that he was supposed to slay the dragon, he was even more worried. “Oh dear oh dear, he said. “I don’t think I want to meet a dragon. Couldn’t the king change the contest into a vegetable growing competition? I might be able to win that? Or perhaps he would say who ever saves the most money over the next year can marry Beatrice?”

“Don’t be such a scaredy  cat. ” hissed the step-mother of Princess Beatrice who is rather horrid and is secretly a wicked witch. “You’d better slay that dragon, or I’ll turn you into a creepy crawly and see how you like that! Now don’t worry. I’ll give you a fire proof suit of armour. Put it on and you won’t have any trouble at all.”

“Wouldn’t that be cheating?” asked Freddie.

“Cheating! Listen you soppy pimple nosed goody two shoes, do you want be burnt into smitherenes by the dragon?”

“No thanks. I’d rather not,” admitted Freddie. and he agreed to wear the fire proof suit of armour.

And so when the day came, Freddie put on the suit of armour and rode very slowly and carefully on an old horse, up the mountain to the cave where the dragon lived. When he arrived, he got off his horse, and hid behind big tree waiting for the dragon to come out of his cave.

“Oh deary, deary me,” he said to himself, shaking with fear “I really don’t want to fight the dragon. I’m not sure that I want to marry Princess Beatrice at all. I think I’d rather do my maths homework on my own from now on. I’ll just wait here until tea-time, and then go home and tell everybody that the dragon has agreed to be good from now on.”

And so that’s what he did. But the very next week, when the king was out in his garden, the dragon jumped over the wall of the palace and burnt all the daffodils as well as his prize leeks. The palace guards came running, but the dragon had wings and flew away before they could catch him.

“Right said the king,” looking at his burnt garden. “I’m never going to let that nincompoop Freddie marry my lovely daughter now. I always thought he was a frightful bore anyway.”

And to tell you the truth, the lovely Princess Beatrice wasn’t that sad after all. She realized that if Freddie had truly loved her, he would have at least tried to kill the dragon, and not made up a fib about him agreeing to be good from now on.

The following week, a new prince rode through the gates of the palace. He had blue eyes and long blond hair, and was ever so handsome. Princess Beatrice and her step-mother watched him from the top of the palace tower. They both agreed that he looked terribly strong and brave and would make a very fine husband. They were both so sure that he would succeed in slaying the dragon, that the step-mother didn’t even bother to offer to lend him her fire proof suit of armour in case he got offended.

Now this Prince, who was called Boris the Brave, had been to school with Prince Bertie and to tell you the truth, they really don’t like each other very much. Although Boris the Brave has lots of admirers, nobody admires him more than he does himself. He used to go around saying that he was a truer prince than Bertie, and when they played football, he used to kick Bertie in the shins when the referee wasn’t looking. When they were very small, he used to pinch Bertie under the desk during class, and when they got bigger, he hid Bertie’s skateboard and stamped on his conkers. In fact, Bertie really really didn’t like Boris the Brave at all, and so when he heard that he was riding out to Wales to win the hand of the lovely Princess Beatrice, Bertie jumped onto his skateboard, and headed off in the same direction. He was determined to win Beatrice from under the nose of his rival.

Bertie arrived at the Palace soon after Boris. The wicked step-mother of Princess Beatrice was not at all impressed. “Humph,” she said. “He doesn’t look like a real prince at all. He’s wearing his baseball cap back to front and quite frankly, he’s rather chubby. You might even call him fat.”

Just then, Bertie did a backward flip on his skateboard, in the center of the court where everybody could see him. Then he jumped off and did a bow. All the courtiers clapped, and the page boys hurrahed. Beatrice didn’t say anything, but secretly she thought that Bertie looked rather nice and hoped that he would slay the dragon before Boris the Brave.

Both the Princes were given rooms at the palace to stay in, and the next morning Bertie got up for breakfast. Boris the Brave was nowhere to be seen.

“We have a saying in my Kingdom,” Bertie said to Beatrice’s father, the old King. “The Early Bird Gets the Worm.” I’ll go and kill that Dragon before Boris gets out of bed.”

Princess Beatrice’s step mother spluttered with laughter into her cornflakes. “You’ll find that hard,” she said. “Boris the Brave was up at six o clock this morning and rode straight up the mountain to seek the dragon. I’d say he’s probably slayed him by now, and will marry Beatrice next Monday morning. Would you like another slice of toast and black currant jam before you go home, Prince Bertie?

Now Prince Bertie was dismayed to hear this news, and so he ran out into the courtyard and jumped onto his skateboard. He was determined to catch up with Boris the Brave. It was very hard work going up the mountain, and he had to carry his skateboard on his shoulder. His sword was rather heavy, and its sharp point trailed along in the dust as he tramped up the track to the dragon’s cave. “Oh bother,” he thought to himself, “I bet that Boris has truly killed the dragon and will marry the lovely Princess Beatrice. He’ll be thumbing his nose at me for years to come. It’s so, so annoying.”

Finally Bertie came within sight of the cave. It looked very dark and scary. Now, it’s one thing to decide to go and slay a dragon, and it’s another to actually go and do it. Perhaps, said Bertie to himself, I can sneak into the cave and kill the dragon with my sword while he’s asleep. Then he thought “Oh bother! What if he isn’t asleep? He’ll breath fire on me, and that will be the end of Prince Bertie.”

Bertie had heard the story of how Prince Freddie had returned home, and then been made to look really really stupid by the dragon. He realised that he was stuck. He didn’t want to go into the cave in case he got burnt to smithereans, and he didn’t want to go back to the palace in case he was made to look stupid. Just then, he heard a terrible noise, a sort of Whooosh! and Boris the Brave came charging out of the cave on his white horse. He was chased by a ball of fire just inches behind the heels of his horse. Boris and his horse headed straight for the mountain path and charged as fast as they could down the track. Bertie dived behind a rock. He heard the dragon stomping around outside his cave and singing, [out of tune so as not to breach copyright]

“Why, why, why-eee, Jermimah?”

“Oh golly”, said Bertie. “That’s the most frightening sound I’ve ever heard.”  And he lay very still in case the dragon might see him and breath fire on him. Eventually though, the dragon went back into his cave, and Bertie heard his voice echoing

“What’s up spotty-dog? Arooo! Arroo!
What’s up spotty-dog? Arooo! Arroo!”

What am I going to do, thought Bertie. That singing is more unbearable than the fire. And then he had an idea. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. Ten minutes later there was an even louder roaring than the dragon’s singing, accompanied by the sound of a bell. A big red fire engine was coming up the track.

“Right boys”, said Bertie. There’s a fire-breathing dragon in that cave. He’s already seen off two brave princes. Let’s give him a bath. There wasn’t a tap anywhere to be found, but fortunately one of the firemen knew that there was a lake at the top of mountain. They took one end of the hose up to the lake, and pointed the other through a chimney in the roof of the cave. They could tell that the dragon was inside because they could see smoke coming out of the chimney pot. Soon the water was running down the hose and into the dragon’s cave. A very wet and bedraggled dragon came out, too cross and miserable even to sing. He saw Bertie and the firemen and opened his mouth to breath fire on them, but fortunately they were ready with a second hose which they squirted into his mouth.

“UGGGGG!” roared the dragon – for his fire was quite put out by the water. And before he could flap his soggy wings and fly away, the firemen waiting on top of his cave dropped a net on top of him. Soon they hauled him up onto the fire engine and drove him down the mountain into the city. When the news got round that the dragon had been captured, the people came out onto the streets and whistled and cheered and threw their caps in the air. Bertie stood on top the the cab of the fire engine and waved his sword and took deep bows. The lovely Beatrice watched all this from her tower and thought that Bertie did look like a real prince after all, even if he was a bit chubby. The firemen took the dragon to the city zoo where he now lives quite happily, and still sings songs to himself, only without breathing fire, and some say that he’s even learnt to sing in tune. Prince Bertie returned to the palace and that evening there was a 12 gun salute – which is when 12 cannons fire gun powder to mark a royal celebration – and then there were fireworks over the city, and page boys went up and down the streets giving away gingerbread to the people. The wicked step-mother tried to persuade the King that Bertie had cheated by calling the fire brigade, but the king would hear nothing of it. “it was a jolly clever idea,” said the King, “And besides, your Prince Freddie and Boris the Brave didn’t exactly cover themselves in glory.”

The wicked step mother was really really cross, and would have liked to have turned Bertie into a creepy crawly there and then, but she didn’t’ dare because she knew the king would be angry with her, and perhaps put her in prison. So she smiled and pretended to be pleased. Boris the Brave and Prince Freddie were nowhere to be seen. The lovely Princess Beatrice allowed Bertie to kiss her hand and it was agree that she would marry Bertie soon and come to live in his palace, and Bertie promised to share all his toys with her.

And that’s the storynory of how Prince Bertie won the hand in marriage of the lovey Princess Beatrice. Colin the Carp is convinced that Bertie made it all up, but Sadie and Tim the Tadpole believe him, and so do I. …. One day I might even go and look at that dragon in the zoo.

Bertie has loads more stories – most of them are classic tales like The Three Little Pigs and Jack and the Beanstalk, and there are more about Bertie and his friends too. All of them are absolutely free, but if you want, you can buy a personalised story for a special person in your life. So tell all your friends to drop by at Storynory.com and say hello to Bertie. For now, from me, Natasha, Bye Bye.

A story about Bertie the Frog

Download The Audio Story

Bertie looked longingly at the lovely Princess Beatrice, remembering how he used to stroll with her down to the edge of the pond, and how she would always bring some bread for the Sadie the beautiful black swan and for all the ducks, coots and geese who who would come quacking and honking up to greet her. He noticed that today she was carrying a silk bag over her shoulder, and every now and then she would stoop down to the ground and take something out of her bag and place it carefully under a vegetable or a leaf.

In this special Bertie Story for Easter, the annual Easter Egg hunt in the Palace Garden is heading for disaster, and Prince Bertie the Frog is about to take the blame for eating the eggs belonging to the children.

Read by Natasha Lee Lewis. Duration 15 minutes.

It was springtime on the Pond, and all the Pond Life was sitting by the edge of the water, looking out at all the lovely daffodils that were starting to spring up around the Palace vegetable patch. And Sadie the Swan was sighing. “I do love the spring, Bertie, because all the flowers make me feel so romantic…”

Colin the carp said: “I don’t like flowers. People go on about their lovely smell. But I can’ smell a thing, because I’m a fish.”

Just then, Tim the Tadpole stuck his tiny head out of the water and spotted a young woman walking under the fruit trees and the vegetable patch.

“That’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he said, “Who can she be, Bertie?”

“Why,” said Bertie. “that’s the lovely Princess Beatrice of course” Then he croaked rather sadly because, as you probably know, when Bertie was a handsome Prince, he was engaged to marry the lovely Princess Beatrice, but then her horrid step-mother turned him into a frog, and he misses his princess quite a bit sometimes. Now she was ever so close to the pond, but she didn’t recognise Bertie, because he looked just like a green frog. But all the pond life gazed at her. They were fascinated to catch a glimpse of her Royal Loveliness of whom they had heard so much.

“What’s she doing?” asked Tim.

Bertie looked longingly at the Lovely Princess Beatrice, remembering how he used to stroll with her down to the edge of the pond, and how she would always bring some bread for the Sadie the beautiful black swan and for all the ducks, coots and geese who who would come quacking and honking up to greet her. He noticed that today she was carrying a silk bag over her shoulder, and every now and then she would stoop down to the ground and take something out of her bag and place it carefully under a vegetable or a leaf. The things she was hiding so carefully looked like ostrich eggs, only instead of being white like usual eggs, they were all sorts of bright and attractive colours.

“What are those?” asked Tim, who is a very curious tadpole, and is always asking loads and loads of questions.

“Those, said Bertie, are Easter eggs.” Tim opened his tiny mouth and was about to ask another question. But before he could ask, Bertie answered it. “This time of year is called Easter, and all the children who live in the Palace, and all the children from the nearby villages, come to the Palace Gardens, and they hunt for Easter Eggs. The rumour goes that they are hidden by the Easter bunnies – but because I was a Prince – and princes know everything – I realised that  really it was the lovely Princess Beatrice who hid them. And do you know what I used to do? I would watch her from the top of the palace tower through my telescope, and spot where all the biggest eggs were hidden….especially the ones with jelly beans inside, because those are my favorites.”

“I didn’t know you liked eggs,” said Tim.

“These were chocolate eggs, Tim,” said Bertie.

“What’s chocolate?”

Now little Tim is known for asking some very silly questions, and quite often when he asks them, the other creatures on the pond go, “Tim, don’t you know even that..?.” but this time they kept very quiet, because they were all eager to learn from Bertie what chocolate was. Bertie licked his lips with the memory of its taste.

“Chocolate, little Tim, is the most delicious food in the entire universe.”

Colin the carp, who is a very grumpy fish, and very seldom agrees with Bertie, or with anyone else for that matter, said: “You might like chocolate, but it’s not nearly so tasty as a dead insect with a nice bit of mud on it. In fact, chocolate is not nice at all, unless you are a frog, and a stupid one at that.”

“Oh yes it is,” said Bertie.

“Oh no it isn’t,” said Colin.

“Oh yes it is,” said Bertie.

Just then Sadie the Swan glided across the pond:

“Tich tich boys. You’re always quarrelling. Instead or arguing about it, why don’t we try just one little piece of chocolate? And then we can all make our own minds up.”

Bertie thought that was a wonderful idea, because it was a very long time now since he’d had any chocolate, and even longer since he’d had a jelly bean.

“Come on,” boomed Bertie”, “Let’s go and hunt for Easter eggs.”

So Bertie hopped through the grass, and Sadie waddled next to him. Tim came along for the ride on Bertie’s back, and a family of ducks with six little ducklings followed them. Only Colin the carp wasn’t able to leave the pond, because he’s a fish, and he can only swim in water. So instead, he snapped at a fly that was nearby, and missed it. “Humph” said Colin, and he sunk down to sulk at the bottom of the pond, because when there are no insects to eat, grumping and sulking is what Colin does to pass the time.

When Bertie and the pondlife reached the vegetable patch, they found one egg hidden behind the broccoli, and another one behind the cauliflower, and another behind the beetroot, although Bertie didn’t want to go too close to that one because he never liked beetroot when he was a Prince.

Bertie found the eggs, and then Sadie rolled them back to the pond with her beak. And one by one, all the animals tried the chocolate.

“Ah, bliss,” said Bertie, as he flicked another jelly bean onto his froggy tongue. “This is the life.”

“Yummy Scrummy,” said Tim, as he licked a piece of an egg that was at least fifty times bigger than he was. Tim’s mother, who is a frog, looked on rather anxiously. She was worried in case he didn’t leave any room for his dinner inside his tiny stomach. She was planning green slime that night, and green slime is full of good and important vitamins for a growing tadpole.

“Oh, oh,” trilled Sadie. “I think it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. “Even more scrumptious than crusts of soggy sliced bread.”

“I suppose it is quite nice,” said Colin the Carp. “If you’ve run out of flies that is.”

Just then Barker the palace dog bounced through the vegetable patch. Now Barker is quite a silly dog, and also quite greedy, and when he smelled chocolate, his big tongue hung out of his mouth and slobbered. Next he started to hunt for the eggs with his wet shiny nose. Each time he found an egg, he went “Woof, woof,” and before Bertie could do anything about it, he ate it up. Bertie thought that he ought to stop Barker eating all the eggs, but when you are a frog, and no longer a brave prince with a prince’s sword at your side, even a silly dog like Barker can seem quite frightening. So Bertie pretended not to notice Barker, and went on telling the other pond life stories about Easter time. When Barker had eaten six whole chocolate eggs, he started to dig a hole in the ground his paws, and he buried all the other eggs, and covered them up with earth.

The next morning was Easter Sunday, and after church, Princess Beatrice led all the children into the garden, and they started hunting for the eggs. They looked behind the cauliflower, the cabbages, and even behind the beetroot, although none of them wanted to go near the beetroot very much.

But they couldn’t find any of the eggs. Not a single one.

“Oh, that’s funny,” said Princess Beatrice. “I’m sure they are here somewhere.”

“These are stupid children,” said the her step-mother, who is very wicked and rather horrid.

And some of the children started to cry, because they were looking forward so very much to finding the eggs.

Colin the carp said, “Well now, Prince Bertie the Frog. Just see what you’ve done. You’ve upset the little children because you’re so greedy.”

Bertie thought that wasn’t very fair of Colin, especially as he knew that it was Barker the dog who had eaten most of the eggs. But he wasn’t in the mood to quarrel with a grumpy fish. He felt too sad, because he could see the children didn’t have any eggs. Then he had a great idea. “Come Barker,” he said, calling over to the silly dog.

He hopped onto Barker’s back, and told him to run to the palace kitchen. He was a bit nervous, because really he was a rather frightened of Barker, but he held on tight, and closed his eyes, and in a minute they were in the kitchens.

Now Bertie knew where the cook kept the special supply of eggs for the King, Bertie’s father, because sometimes, when Bertie was a prince, he used sneak into the kitchen and borrow one…although he never actually gave it back, on account of having eaten it.

He got Barker to pick up the bag of eggs in his mouth, and then they ran back to the vegetable patch. By the time they returned, all the children were crying, and even the lovely Princess Beatrice had tears in her gorgeous green eyes. Just then, Barker said “Woof Woof” because he was a rather silly dog, and that was what he always said when he saw somebody. As he opened his mouth, the bag fell down, and the eggs rolled out onto the ground.

“Found one,” shouted one of the children.

“Found one,” shouted another of the children.

And in the next few moments, each of the children had found an egg.

The children cheered and Barker pranced around and woofed excitedly. The lovely Princess Beatrice just happened to have some special doggy treats in her handbag, and she gave him a handful, which he licked up in no time.

“Oh Bertie, said Sadie the Swan. “That was so brave. You’ve made all the little children so thrilled.”

Now if you promise not to tell anybody, I’ll let you into a secret. Do you promise? Okay. Then I’ll tell you. That evening, after it began to get dark, Barker the dog sneaked down to the vegetable patch. He sniffed out the hole where he had buried the remaining eggs. Then he dug them up with his front paws and he and Bertie stuffed themselves on chocolate and jelly beans until they both felt quite sick – but very happy. So perhaps Barker isn’t such a silly dog after all.

And that’s the storynory of Bertie’s Easter Egg hunt.