CHAPTER TWO

“Got you!” shouted Ali Baba, who had just grabbed hold of Don the Donkey’s tail. As Don dragged Ali around the streets of Ababrakhabakebab, the earth suddenly started shaking. Don stopped running, and Ali Baba was rather cleverly flung onto his back. Ali and Don stood in awe. They could see a cloud of dust coming from over the horizon. “It’s an avalanche!” shouted Ali.

“No, it isn’t,” said Don. “It’s a group of robbers riding on horse-back, heading towards us.”

“How do you know?” asked Ali.

“I’m clever,” replied Don. “I’m educated. I went to a public school where I was moulded to become knowledgeable in the ways of the world, to become fair in my judgements of people from all walks of life and to become a gentleman.”

“A gentleman? You’re a donkey.”

“I am not a donkey. I’m a cow.”

“A cow? I don’t think so.”

“I am. Listen: Baaaaaa!”

“I think I’d better get you seen to. You seem to have developed a case of Mad Donkey’s Disease.”

The dust from over the horizon grew closer and closer to Ali Baba and Don. “Oh, where’s Mr. Sheen when you want him?” asked Ali rather humourlessly.

“We’d better get out of their way,” said Don. “If we don’t, we’re going to be caught up in the stampede.”

“Do you honestly think I don’t know that?”

Don didn’t answer. I suppose there’s nothing strange with that. After all, he is a donkey and donkeys aren’t supposed to be able to speak.

“What shall we do?” asked Ali.

“I don’t know. Ah-ha! There’s a tree. Let’s climb up it.”

“Good thinking, Don. Er, climb on.” Don obeyed Ali’s orders and, by defying gravity and whatever else, he climbed up a nearby tree and perched himself and Ali on a branch. “Blimey! Look at them!” shouted Ali. “There are hundreds of them!”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’d say there’s about forty, give or take a couple.”

“No chance! There has to be about five hundred. And to think they will all fall off in autumn.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Don.

“These leaves. There are loads of them. I’ve never been this close to a leaf before. Why? What did you think I was talking about?”

“I thought you were talking about those robbers.”

“Oh, no. Stuff the robbers. These leaves are far more fascinating. I’ve never seen so much green in all my life.”

“Okay, suit yourself. By the way, I don’t think they will fall off in autumn. We are in a hot country. It’s like summer all year round here.”

“So? In October, Abdul from the market gets out his scissors and cuts every leaf off every tree.”

“Oh yes? Who told you that?”

“He did. I got it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“What? Abdul’s a horse?! Have you been speaking to other horses? I thought I was the only four-legged people-carrying creature in your life. What’s going on? Don’t I mean anything to you any longer?”

“Of course you do, Don. Now, will you excuse me? I’m looking at these leaves. Ooh! That one’s got a hole in it.”

Ali and Don remained perched on the branch of the tree, not saying anything to each other. Meanwhile, on the ground, one of the robbers, wearing a blue sea-faring type hat and sporting a rather bushy white beard, possibly because he was the captain, rode to a large rock leaning against the side of a hill. “Arr!” he said. “I be Captain Mustafa Krapp.”

“Ha-ha!” laughed Don (it’s the Laughing Donkey – a new brand of cheese). “Mustafa Krapp!”

“Watch where it lands, then,” said Ali Baba.

“Have you seen what’s going on down there?” asked Don.

“No,” replied Ali. “My attention is currently devoted to the leaves.”

“He’s got out a magic wand,” said Don.

“Who has?”

“Mustafa Krapp.”

“I know. I’ve told you, watch where it lands.”

“No, the captain’s got out his wand.”

“What is this? Carry On Ali Baba?”

“He’s talking to the rock now.”

“Obviously a total loony.”

“I can just make out what he’s saying: ‘Open Sesame’. Bloody hell, Ali! The big rock’s moving. Look, it’s revealed an entrance to a cave. The captain and the thirty-nine robbers are all entering it, with their bags full of stuff unbeknown to us. Now, the rock’s rolling back.”

“What are you talking about, donkey?” asked Ali. “I couldn’t give a stuff about robbers and secret caves. This isn’t The Famous Five, you know. We’ve got a long way to go before we reach those literary heights. Come on, we’d better get going. I’ve got to find somebody who’ll marry me.”

Ali Baba jumped out of the tree, followed by Don, the three sacks full of firewood and the axe. “Oof!” shouted Ali. “Careful where you land next time.”

Right, because I’m on a very low budgie, er, budget, I’m not going to feature Ali Baba and Bernadette’s wedding in this story. In addition, I’m not going to include any of the events of the next twenty or so years of the lives of Ali Baba, Bernadette, and whosoever else happens to be in this story. Instead, I’m going to take a huge leap into the future, to a Sunday evening, two decades after this story began. The scene is Ali Baba’s house, Ababrakhabakebab, Persia. (For a second then, Ababrakhabakebab was a town in a brand of washing powder. Fortunately, I spotted my mistake, so I’m not going to be getting sued by any washing powder manufacturers. Well, not for including their product name in my story without permission anyway.) Ali, Bernadette and Don are sitting around the sitting-room table, playing a card game. Don trumped. “That had better not smell,” said Bernadette.

“Ho-ho,” said Ali, unimpressed by the humour in this story. “Is this what we’ve come to?”

“Well, we can’t all be like Kassim, can we?” said Bernadette. “The jokes in his house are clever. They’re witty. They’re surreal. You know: Why did the chicken cross the road? Because it was Saturday. That’s the sort of humour we lack in this household.”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” stated Ali.

“Not to us, it doesn’t,” said Bernadette. “We don’t have the intellect to make sense of such humour. But to others, it makes total logic.”

“Well, the world would be a dull place if we were all the same. Kassim is allowed to indulge in his own sort of humour. He’s rich. Rich people can do different things. Look at his way of life. When he’s eating chicken, he can afford to leave the bone. Whereas I only possess one donkey, he owns three hundred and sixty five different asses, one for each day of the year. He gets his water filtered. It’s nowhere near as brown as ours is. He feeds caviar to his fish. The list is endless. And why? Oh, why does Kassim live a life free of hardship and poverty? Why is it we who suffer?”

“Er, well, Kassim married the daughter of a rich merchant, didn’t he? When his father-in-law was taken from this earth by the will of Almighty Allah, Kassim inherited everything. Oh yes, he won the lottery too. Remember that man from Blackburn who wished to remain anonymous after winning a fortune on the lottery, but got his name published in a few newspapers that had nothing better to publish? That was Kassim Baba.”

“Really? And he hasn’t given me a penny, the selfish git.”

“Oh, he’ll receive his comeuppance one day, and we’ll be there to watch and gloat with glee.”

“Are you playing this game or not?” asked Don. “I’ve trumped about three times and neither of you have noticed.”

“We’ve both got colds,” replied Ali. “We can’t smell anything.”

“Fine,” said Don. “I’m going out for a walk then.”

“Are you?” asked Ali. “Will you take me with you?”

“Only if you promise not to pull.”

“I promise,” said Ali.

“Alright then. Go and fetch your lead. I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Moo!” said Bernadette.

“What is it?” asked Ali, on his way to his bedroom to fetch his lead.

“Where will you be walking?” asked Bernadette.

“I don’t know. Ask Don.”

“I’m not talking to your ass!”

“What’s wrong with my ass?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?” asked Don. “I think Ali’s got a wonderful ass.”

“Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?” replied Bernadette, “seeing as you are his ass.”

“What have you got against me?” asked Don. “Do I smell?”

“If your nose works, yes, of course you smell. I don’t mind the fact that you can smell. It’s the fact that you can talk that worries me.”

“So?”

“Well, it’s not natural. Donkeys shouldn’t be able to talk.”

“I know, but I did spend a lot of my early life on Blackpool seaside. Whenever I was thirsty, I drank the seawater and, as you know, nobody can be sure of what exactly is in that water. It obviously had an effect on my vocal chords though, whatever it is. And anyway, you’re part-cow; so, before you criticise me, look at yourself.”

“Now, now,” said Ali, intervening. “Don’t let’s get bitchy.”

“Are you calling us dogs?” asked Bernadette.

“No. I’m just pointing out that you’re behaving like dogs.”

“Have you got your lead yet?” asked Don.

“No, I’m going to get it. I won’t be long.” Ali Baba quickly ran up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Shall you or I inform Ali that this house doesn’t have an upstairs?” asked Bernadette.

“I’m sure he’ll find out for himself,” replied Don. There was a sudden crash as Ali fell off the set of drawers that he had climbed onto, or, to be grammatically correct, there was a sudden crash as Ali fell off the set of drawers onto which he had climbed. “See.”

“Ah! Here it is,” said Ali, getting up, holding his lead in his hand.

“Come on then,” said Don. “We don’t want to be out all night.”

“Remember,” said Bernadette, “if any men stop and ask you to look at their puppies, keep your distance. Puppies can be extremely dangerous and may bite.”

Ali Baba and Don walked out of the house and made their way through the streets of Ababrakhabakebab. Eventually, they came to a hillside. “Does this bring back memories?” asked Don. “Can you remember when you and I were up that tree and…”

“Shhhh!” said Ali. “Keep it quiet.”

“Oh yes, sorry.” Don then started speaking quieter. “Remember when you and I were up that tree and we saw those robbers go into the cave behind that rock?”

“What? Oh, er, no, I don’t remember that.”

“You don’t? Oh, that’s right. You were admiring the leaves, weren’t you?”

“The leaves? Oh yes! I remember.”

“Well, I was thinking, wouldn’t it be fascinating to go into that cave ourselves?”

“’Spose so. It’s not much of a walk though, is it?”

“It wasn’t my intention to go for a walk,” said Don. “This cave has been bugging me for the last twenty years. I’ve finally plucked up the courage to satisfy my curiosity and to find out what really is inside it.”

“Okay then. Open it up.”

“No, you do it.”

“Me? Why?”

“Well, your name is in the title of this story. You are meant to be the hero. Just say ‘Open Sesame’ to the rock, and hopefully it’ll move.”

Ali Baba stepped back, took a deep breath, looked at the rock and shouted “Open Sesame!” Ali Baba and Don stared at the rock, dismayed by its motionless motion. “Are you sure it’s ‘Open Sesame’?” asked Ali Baba. “It’s not ‘Open Fruitcake’ or something?”

“No, I’m sure. Those words have been stuck in my mind for years. Try it again.”

“This isn’t going to work,” said Ali. Once again, he stepped back, took a deep breath, looked at the rock and shouted “Open Sesame!”

“Ahem!” said a deep booming voice. “Have you seen the time?”

“Who’s that?” asked Ali.

“I don’t know,” answered Don. “But it certainly adds drama to the situation, doesn’t it?”

“What are you doing waking me up at this hour?”

“Who said that?” asked Ali.

“I did.”

“Who?”

“Me, the rock. You’ve got me up.”

“Er, Don,” said Ali. “That rock’s talking to me.”

“So? You spoke to it first. It’s only being polite.”

“What do you want?” asked the rock.

“Erm,” said Ali. “Open Sesame?”

“Oh! Not again. I’m hundreds of years old. Do you know what the arthritis is like? I roll backwards and forwards almost every day. I’ve decided, when this story is finished, I’m going to go into retirement. I’m fed up of this being rich and famous lark. I don’t want to be a rock star any longer. Oh well, here we go.”

The rock rolled over to the left, revealing the entrance to a cave. The moonlight glistened on hundreds and thousands of jewels placed inside the cave. Ali lit a torch. “Goodness gracious me!” he exclaimed, with an exclamation mark to confirm that he did exclaim and not just merely say. “There are jewels everywhere, and gold and silver and bronze. Quick, fill up my sacks. We will no longer need to live a life of hardship and poverty. From now on, with all the riches in here, the Babas will put up with nothing but the best.”

Ali Baba and Don crammed as many jewels and riches as they could into Ali Baba’s three sacks. Ali then climbed onto Don and rode back home, leaving the cave entrance exposed. Whilst Ali Baba and Don were returning home, Bernadette was reading a book. “Ha-ha-ha!” she laughed. “This book is absolutely hilarious! It’s called Cannetella and the Wizard and is a top quality read, written by an author who just naturally oozes talent, intellect and wit and mixes them together to produce this concoction of intense drama, comedy and pure ingenuity. And, apparently, Caverswall Palace Publications, a division of Caverswall Palace Enterprises, will be publishing the story in paperback in the near future. It really is a story not to be missed.”

Ali Baba and Don could hear Bernadette’s laughter as they neared home. “She must be reading that Cannetella and the Wizard book,” said Ali Baba. “Bernadette may be a miserable cow but even she cannot fail to find Cannetella and the Wizard entertaining.”

“I fully agree,” said Don. “Cannetella and the Wizard really is the perfect novel. I certainly have never come across a better story at any time in my reading life.”

As he passed Kassim’s house, Ali Baba looked at it and said, “Soon we shall be living a life like yours, brother. We will be able to use soft and extra long toilet paper. We will no longer have to use both sides of it too. We will be able to eat, drink and be merry on regular intervals. We will be able to wear more one pair of socks per month. I don’t need to lower myself to gambling on lottery games to get money, not when I know of a cave I can rob jewels and coins from.”        

Ali Baba dismounted Don and knocked on the front door of his house. Bernadette opened it. “So, enjoy your walk?” she asked.

“Immensely,” replied Ali. “And I’ve brought something back for you.”

“Have you? What is it? Let me guess. Is it a shoe?”

“No, it’s not a shoe.”

“Damn. You brought me back a shoe a couple of months ago, and I’ve been waiting for you to find another one to make up a pair since then.”

“Oh, you can make up many, many pairs of shoes with what I’ve got for you.”

“Hmm, sounds intriguing. It’s not one of those ‘Make your own Shoes in Seconds’ sets, is it? I still haven’t used my ‘Make your own Wig in Seconds’ set yet.”

“No, you won’t have to make a thing with what I have in these three sacks.”

“Okay, I give up. What have you brought for me?”

Ali Baba emptied the contents of his three sacks onto the sitting-room table. Bernadette gazed in amazement at the piles of jewels, coins and other riches glittering on her table. Ali Baba then explained how he came across his fortune and how the secret of the cave must not be disclosed. “How much would you say we have?” asked Bernadette.

“I don’t know,” replied Ali.

“Right, I’ll count it.” So, Bernadette started counting the newly acquired Baba fortune. Meanwhile, for some obscure reason, Ali Baba went outside to dig a hole. Well, that’s what it says in one version of the translation of the original Arabian Nights text. I’ve never really understood the significance of Ali Baba’s hole-digging activities. Actually, come to think of it, I do. It’s so he has somewhere to hide the money and jewels! It all makes sense now.

Ali Baba, after digging his hole, re-entered his house. Bernadette was still counting. “One, two, three, five, seven, twenty, er, two hundred, erm, fifteen thousand. What comes after fifteen thousand, love?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Ali. “Surely there’s an easier way of counting it,” he said.

“Well, yes, there is,” said Bernadette. “If I were to borrow a small measure, I would be able to weigh the jewels, and thus work out how rich we really are. Kassim will have a measure, won’t he? I’m sure he’ll lend it to us.”

Bernadette left the house and ran next door with a huge grin on her face. She knocked on Kassim’s door. Rita answered it. “Ah! Rita,” said Bernadette. “I don’t suppose you could lend me your scales, could you? I need to weigh some, er, some grain.”

“Er, yes, of course,” said Rita. “I’ll just fetch them.”

Rita walked to the kitchen. “Who’s at the door?” asked Kassim, standing in the kitchen, chopping carrots.

“It’s Bernadette. She wants to borrow our measure. She’s got some grain to weigh.”

“What? Grain? I wonder what type of grain she’s weighing. Here, put a strip of double-sided sticky tape on the bottom of the measure. A sample of whatever they are weighing will stick to it.” Rita promptly took a piece of double-sided sticky tape and stuck it to the bottom of the measure.

“By the way,” she said. “Why are you chopping carrots? We’re having fish and chips for tea.”

“So? I like carrots with fish and chips. They taste delicious soaked in vinegar and dipped in tomato sauce.”

Rita ignored Kassim and walked to the front door. “Here you are, Bernadette,” she said. “Now you’ll be able to find out exactly how much grain you have.”

“Thank you,” said Bernadette. “I’ll bring them back later.”

Bernadette returned home and weighed the jewels. After discovering that she and Ali were now fifteen thousand and one Persian pounds richer than they were an hour earlier, she jumped up and down, had her very own private party, and then ran back to Kassim’s house with the scales, not noticing that there was a gold coin stuck to the double-sided sticky tape. Again, Rita responded to Bernadette’s knocks by opening the door. “Sister,” said Bernadette, “you see that I have not kept your measure long. I am obliged to you for it, and return it with thanks.”

Bernadette returned home, whilst Rita stared at the bottom of the measure. “What?!” she shouted. “This is not grain that Ali Baba and Bernadette have been weighing. This is money! Whence has Ali Baba this fortune?”

“Who are you talking to?” asked Kassim, still in the kitchen, now chopping onions.

“Nobody,” she said, walking to the kitchen.

“Oh. Was that Bernadette at the door? Has she returned our measure?”

“She has.”

“And what grain was she weighing?”

“Er, well, I wouldn’t call this grain. Look.” Rita showed Kassim the gold coin stuck to the bottom of the measure.

“What?!” he shouted. “This is not grain that Ali Baba and Bernadette have been weighing. This is money! Whence has Ali Baba this fortune?”

“We could always ask him,” suggested Rita, rather suggestively.

“Good thinking, wife,” said Kassim, whose name can also be spelled Cassim, Kasim or, rather obscurely, Qasim, depending on whose version of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves you are reading. Kassim and Rita both walked to Ali Baba’s house and knocked on the door. Ali Baba opened it. Kassim and Rita barged into Ali Baba’s house and noticed jewels all over the floor. “This is not grain that you have been weighing,” Kassim said. “This is money! Whence have you this fortune?”

“What fortune?” asked Ali Baba.

“This fortune. Whence have you it?”

Ali Baba’s brain, notorious for not functioning properly most of the time, started doing thoughtful things. “He knows,” thought Ali. “Blimey! These rich people are clever. Oh well, I’d better tell him. I don’t want him reporting me to the police.”

“Well?” said Kassim. “Whence?”

“From a cave,” said Ali Baba. “Many, many years ago, not long after this story began, I was up a tree with Don. From this tree, we, or Don to be exact, since I was preoccupied with the leaves, observed a group of robbers entering a cave. This cave had previously not been visible, owing to the fact that there was a rock in front of it. However, by saying the words, ‘Open Sesame,’ the captain of the robbers managed to get the rock to move to the side and to reveal the cave. Earlier tonight, Don and I returned to the cave, entered it and found these jewels inside. There are still loads left, but this is all I could bring back with me in my three sacks. Listen, brother, do not tell anyone of this secret. If you do, everybody will take stuff from the cave. I will even offer you half of my fortune in exchange for your promise that the secret of the cave will not be revealed.”

“Coo, ta very much, Ali,” said Kassim, picking up half of the jewels and putting them in Rita’s handbag. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Kassim and Rita left the Ali Baba household and returned home. “Tomorrow I shall take ten of my asses to that cave and empty it,” said Kassim to Rita.

“Ooh, you are evil,” said Rita.

The next morning, Kassim woke up bright and early. He walked to his mule stable, and picked out ten of his finest mules, each bearing a chest, all of which Kassim intended to fill with riches of all descriptions. Whilst Kassim was preparing his mules, the forty thieves were arriving at the cave. “Gosh!” said one of them. “We forgot to lock the cave yesterday. Anybody could have walked in and stolen our hardly-earned loot.”

“No,” said the captain. “I remember saying ‘Shut Sesame’ yesterday. I’d never leave this cave open to undesirables. You know what they say: ‘You can’t trust anybody nowadays’. Somebody knows our password. I knew I should have paid attention to my Preventing Identity Theft for Dummies book and changed my password once a month like it said. Somebody must have spied on us to find it out. We will find this somebody and kill him, or her, depending on his sex. We will fight,” continued the captain, walking past his thirty-nine thieves, all standing side-by-side in a row. “We will fight for our freedom. I’m Walliam Willace, and I’ll never be defeated. Hoots Mon! Och aye the noo! What is it ye want? Do ye want years of tyranny at the hands of the English pigs? No! If ye dunnae, come fight with me! We want our freedom! We want our liberty! Are ye all with me?!”

Suddenly, the captain’s thirty-nine thieves started cheering (or, as I originally spelled it, sheering). “Yea!” they shouted in unison, together and all at the same time. “Freedom!”

“Good,” said the captain. “Now, go back to your homes and return here in an hour with your faces painted blue and white. It’ll make us look really scary and nasty, that will. Or, if it doesn’t, it’ll make us look like Blackburn Rovers fans, which is near enough.”

After the captain had said “Shut Sesame” to the rock, and the forty thieves had rode off into the sunrise, Kassim arrived at the hillside. It is totally beyond me how Kassim knew where the hillside was, since I seemed to forget to include mentioning its location during Ali Baba’s explanation of where he found the jewels. Still, Kassim found the hillside and stared at the rock leaning against it.

“Open Sesame!” he shouted.

“Sesawho?” asked the rock.

“Sesame,” replied Kassim.

“Oh, that’s alright. I thought you were somebody else.” The rock started rolling to the side. A rumbling noise could be heard. “Was that your stomach or mine?” asked the rock.

“It could have been mine,” answered Kassim. “I haven’t had any breakfast yet.” He then looked into the cave, lit a torch and entered it, followed by his ten donkeys. Kassim observed almost infinite numbers of jewels. “Shut Sesame,” said Kassim. The rock rolled in front of the cave entrance. “Coo, it works both ways. Right, let’s get to work.” Kassim opened each of the mules’ chests and filled them with as many precious items as possible. When they were all full, he returned to the cave entrance. “Er, Open, er, open Barley!”

The rock neither moved nor rumbled. “Humph!” growled Kassim. “That mustn’t be the password. Er, Open, oh, I don’t know.”

“Ho-ho!” said the rock. “Forgotten the password, have you?”

“Obviously,” replied Kassim, answering the rock responsively. “I know it has something to do with a type of grain, but I don’t know which one.”

“Hmph! Well, don’t think I’m going to let you out of here without the password. Hearing it turns me on in a special kind of way.”

“Oh, please.”

“No.”

“Pretty please.”

“No.”

“Pretty pretty please.”

“No.”

“Pretty pretty pretty please with sugar on top.”

“No.”

“Pretty pretty pretty please with sugar and hundreds and thousands on top.”

“No.”

“Pretty pretty pretty please with sugar and hundreds and thousands and vanilla ice-cream on top.”

“No.”

“Pretty pretty pretty please with sugar and hundreds and thousands and vanilla ice-cream and chicken curry on top.”

“No.”

“Pretty pretty pretty please with sugar and hundreds and thousands and vanilla ice-cream and chicken curry and jam marmalade on top.”

“No.”

“Pretty pretty pretty please with sugar and hundreds and thousands and vanilla ice-cream and chicken curry and jam marmalade and crab sticks on top.”

“No.”

“Pretty pretty pretty please with sugar and hundreds and thousands and vanilla ice-cream and chicken curry and jam marmalade and crab sticks and sticky candy floss on top.”

“No.”

“Pretty pretty pretty please with sugar and hundreds and thousands and vanilla ice-cream and chicken curry and jam marmalade and crab sticks and sticky candy floss and sliced beetroot on top.”

“No.”

“Pretty pretty pretty please with sugar and hundreds and thousands and vanilla ice-cream and chicken curry and jam marmalade and crab sticks and sticky candy floss and sliced beetroot and pickled onion on top.”

“No.”

“Pretty pretty pretty please with sugar and hundreds and thousands and vanilla ice-cream and chicken curry and jam marmalade and crab sticks and sticky candy floss and sliced beetroot and pickled onion and lemon cheesecake on top."

“No.”

“Pretty pretty pretty please with sugar and hundreds and thousands and vanilla ice-cream and chicken curry and jam marmalade and crab sticks and sticky candy floss and sliced beetroot and pickled onion and lemon cheesecake and fish-shaped pear drops on top.”

“No.”

“Pretty pretty pretty please with sugar and hundreds and thousands and vanilla ice-cream and chicken curry and jam marmalade and crab sticks and sticky candy floss and sliced beetroot and pickled onion and lemon cheesecake and fish-shaped pear drops and herbal tablets on top.”

“Ooh, herbal tablets?”           

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Oh, pretty pretty pretty please with sugar and hundreds and thousands and vanilla ice-cream and chicken curry and jam marmalade and crab sticks and sticky candy floss and sliced beetroot and pickled onion and lemon cheesecake and fish-shaped pear drops and salted peanuts but no herbal tablets on top.”

“No.”

“Oh, it’s like getting blood out of a stone, this is.”

“Well, if you were offered something with sugar and hundreds and thousands and vanilla ice-cream and chicken curry and jam marmalade and crab sticks and sticky candy floss and sliced beetroot and pickled onion and lemon cheesecake and fish-shaped pear drops and salted peanuts on top, would you have it?”

“Er, no.”

“Exactly!”

“I’m not much for crab sticks.”

“Aren’t you? Hang on, listen. I think the robbers are back.”

“What robbers?”

“The forty thieves. They were told to go home to paint their faces and come back in an hour. I think an hour’s up now. See, you don’t need me to tell you the password. They’ll let you out. Oh, look. Here’s the captain now. Ah! He’s said them, those immortal words. Here we go!” The rock rolled to the side, and Kassim’s face met with the glare of eighty eyes.

“Who be you?” asked the captain, suddenly losing the ability to speak properly.

“Er, I’m Kassim,” replied Kassim.

“And what be you doing in my cave?” asked the captain.

“Trying to get out of it,” replied Kassim.

“And why be you with ten mules, all of which seem to be carrying chests full of jewels?”

“Er, now that’s a question that I don’t know the answer to.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Erm, well, I’m not an intelligent person.”   

“Are you not? Are you intelligent enough to be able to tell me how you managed to get into here?”

“No.”

“Are you intelligent enough to be able to tell me who I am?”

“No.”

“Oh, well, let me introduce myself. I’m Mustafa Krapp, captain of the forty thieves.”

“What? The forty thieves as in Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.”

“Yep, them ones exactly. I take it you’ve heard of us.”

“Yeah, I saw you in pantomime in Wigan a couple of years ago. You were very good.”

“Really? Thank you. However, flattery will get you nowhere. You are obviously a robber, robbing us of our loot. Therefore, we have no choice but to kill you.”

“What about my wife?”

“We’ll kill her too if you want.”

“No, I didn’t mean that. You can’t kill me. I’ve a wife, a business and a home.”

“Well, you should have thought of that before you attempted anything as risky as this.”

“I know.”

“Anyway, we don’t really want to kill you. You haven’t done us any real harm. But, we’ve got to kill you. We have no choice. You managed to get into here. Therefore, you know the password. If you know the password, you could tell it to anybody. So, to prevent you from being able to do this, we must bring your life to an end.”

“Before you do kill me, I have something to say. I am not the only person who knows your password. In fact, I was told the password by my brother last night. I have never been into this cave before.”

“Yeah, a likely story. Come on lads, show him what for.”

“Eh?” asked a robber. “What do you mean?”

“Kill him!”

The thirty-nine thieves, and Mustafa, all wearing blue and white paint on their faces, cheered and made other disruptive noises. They all took out their sabres and attacked Kassim, killing him until he was dead. “Right,” said Mustafa. “I think he’s dead. Take all the jewels out of the mules’ chests and put them all back where they belong.” The thieves did as they were told, observing after they had done so that there were still some jewels missing. “Hmm,” said Mustafa. “Maybe this Kassim bloke was telling the truth about his brother. But, seeing as he’s dead now, we can’t find out from him who his brother is. Nevertheless, what we’ll do is cut Kassim’s body into pieces and place his body parts on the floor of the cave entrance, so that, when his brother returns, he will see what has happened to Kassim and run away in fear of receiving the same fate.” After this was done, the thieves left the cave and rode off to rob some more caravans.