'I knew it!' she bellowed. I knew as soon as I saw you that you were nothing but a piece of filth! What is your father's job, a sewage-worker?'
'He's a doctor,' Nigel said. 'And a jolly good one. He says we're all so covered with bugs anyway that a bit of extra dirt never hurts anyone.'
Tm glad he's not my doctor,' the Trunchbull said. 'And why, might I ask, is there a baked bean on the front of your shirt?'
'We had them for lunch, Miss Trunchbull.'
'And do you usually put your lunch on the front of your shirt, Nigel? Is that what this famous doctor father of yours has taught you to do?'
'Baked beans are hard to eat, Miss Trunchbull. They keep falling off my fork.'
'You are disgusting!' the Trunchbull bellowed. 'You are a walking germ-factory! I don't wish to see any more of you today! Go and stand in the corner on one leg with your face to the wall!'
'But Miss Trunchbull...'
'Don't argue with me, boy, or I'll make you stand on your head! Now do as you're told!'
Nigel went.
'Now stay where you are, boy, while I test you on your spelling to see if you've learnt anything at all this past week. And don't turn round when you talk to me. Keep your nasty little face to the wall. Now then, spell "write".'
'Which one?' Nigel asked. 'The thing you do with a pen or the one that means the opposite of wrong?' He happened to be an unusually bright child and his mother had worked hard with him at home on spelling and reading.
'The one with the pen, you little fool.'
Nigel spelled it correctly, which surprised the Trunchbull. She thought she had given him a very tricky word, one that he wouldn't yet have learnt, and she was peeved that he had succeeded.
Then Nigel said, still balancing on one leg and facing the wall, 'Miss Honey taught us how to spell a new very long word yesterday.'
'And what word was that?' the Trunchbull asked softly. The softer her voice became, the greater the danger, but Nigel wasn't to know this.
' "Difficulty",' Nigel said. 'Everyone in the class can spell "difficulty" now.'
'What nonsense,' the Trunchbull said. 'You are not supposed to learn long words like that until you are at least eight or nine. And don't try to tell me everybody in the class can spell that word. You are lying to me, Nigel.'
'Test someone,' Nigel said, taking an awful chance. 'Test anyone you like.'
The Trunchbull's dangerous glittering eyes roved around the classroom. 'You,' she said, pointing at a tiny and rather daft little girl called Prudence, 'spell "difficulty".'
Amazingly, Prudence spelled it correctly and without a moment's hesitation.
The Trunchbull was properly taken aback. 'Humph!' she snorted. 'And I suppose Miss Honey wasted the whole of one lesson teaching you to spell that one single word?'
'Oh no, she didn't,' piped Nigel. 'Miss Honey taught it to us in three minutes so we'll never forget it. She teaches us lots of words in three minutes.'
'And what exactly is this magic method, Miss Honey?' asked the Headmistress.
'I'll show you,' piped up the brave Nigel again, coming to Miss Honey's rescue. 'Can I put my other foot down and turn round, please, while I show you?'
'You may do neither!' snapped the Trunchbull. 'Stay as you are and show me just the same!'
'All right,' said Nigel, wobbling crazily on his one leg. 'Miss Honey gives us a little song about each word and we all sing it together and we learn to spell it in no time. Would you like to hear the song about "difficulty"?'
'I should be fascinated,' the Trunchbull said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.
'Here it is,' Nigel said.
'Mrs D, Mrs I, Mrs FFI