Barry Loser: worst school trip ever!

First published in Great Britain 2018

 by Egmont UK Ltd, The Yellow Building,

 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

Text and illustration copyright © Jim Smith 2018

 The moral rights of Jim Smith have been asserted.

First e-book edition 2018

ISBN 978 1 4052 8399 1

Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1751 9

barryloser.com

www.egmont.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

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Contents

      Cover

Front series promotional page

Copyright

Title Page

How it started

After that

Bin Bazzy

Millions more seconds later

Michael J Socks

The blooming moustache

The poo poo plan

Hokum City

Hokum TV Studios

The History of Television Exhibition

Who Rock Blondsky was

The Curse of Ratboy

The hot dog plan

Best acting ever

Walking towards a door

Future Rat-Bazzy

On the set

Spider fingers

The grumpy alien

Monsieur Tummy

My way or the other way

Not Barry

Grannies everywhere

Egg cress sarnies

Counting blueberry marshmallows

Domino grannies

Big trouble for little Bazzy

Not running for it at all

Future Ratgirl

The great Blondsky reveal

The bus back to Mogden

Wat Boy and Not Birdy

About the author and drawer

Some of my good reviews:

Back series promotional page

My annoying little brother, Desmond Loser the Second, always gets everything his own way.

Like the other morning when me, him, my mum and dad were all sitting round the kitchen table before school.

I was happily flipping through my

Future Ratboy

 Fan Club Magazine, imagining I was a superhero like him, when Des opened his mouth.

‘Me want Bazzy’s brekkie!’ he wailed, reaching for my bowl of cereal.

‘But we’re eating the same thing, Des,’ I said in my older brother voice. ‘I’ve got a bowl of Crazy Caterpillars and so have you!’

Crazy Caterpillars are the keelest cereal in the whole wide world amen.

They first popped up in an episode of

Future Ratboy

, my favourite TV show. Then one day Feeko’s Supermarket started selling them in real life, which made me wee my pants with excitement when I found out.

‘Just swap bowls with him, Barry,’ said my dad, pressing the button on his brand new coffee machine, which started to whir.

‘But you never used to give in to me like that when I was little,’ I said, switching my bowl with Desmond’s in super slow motion.

‘I had more energy when there was only one of you,’ chuckled my dad, taking a sip of his disgusting drink.

I leaned over and switched the radio on.

screeched a voice out of the speaker.

A song by my dad’s favourite band, Frankie Teacup and the Saucers, started to play and my dad got up and wiggled his bum to the music.

‘Me no want moosik!’

 shouted Desmond.

‘Say

PLEASE

, Desmond,’ I said, because that’s what my mum and dad had taught me to say.

‘Just turn the music off would you, Barry?’ sighed my mum. ‘I was up with Des all blooming night and I can’t take any more of his whining.’

‘What?!’ I said, clicking off the radio. ‘But he didn’t even say blooming please!’

‘Don’t say blooming, Barry,’ said my mum.

‘But you did!’

 I said.

‘I’m a grown-up,’ said my mum.

‘So am I!’

 I cried.

‘It’s not fair,’ I whimpered. ‘Desmond always gets everything his way!’

My dad chuckled. ‘Aren’t you off to Hokum City with school this morning, Barry?’ he asked.

‘Ooh that’s right, your big brother’s going on a very exciting trip today, Des!’ said my mum. ‘His teacher, Miss Spivak, got a new boyfriend who works at a big flashy TV studio in Hokum City and he’s organised for Barry’s class to see an exhibition about the history of television!’

I looked at Des, a string of drool dangling out of his mouth with a half-chomped Crazy Caterpillar hanging off the end of it.

‘Urgh, an exhibition about the history of telly,’ I groaned. ‘Sounds comperleeterly boring to me.’

‘Don’t be a grump Barry,’ said my dad. ‘It’ll be smashing!’

I carried on flipping through my magazine, imagining myself as a giant Barry robot stomping through the streets of Hokum City, smashing up cars and buildings.

And that’s when it happened.

There, in the background of a photo on page twenty-one of my

Future Ratboy

 Fan Club Magazine, was the answer to my dreamypoos.

‘Oops, late for work!’ said my dad, slurping the rest of his coffee. He kissed us all on the ends of our noses and headed off to his boring job.

I stood up and stuffed my magazine into my rucksack. ‘Mum, Des, I think I might have just had the most brilliant and amazekeel idea ever!’ I said, doing an excitement blowoff and zoom