Much

For them as don't know, my name is Much and I am a gnome, and old stone gnome. I 'ave lived at the House of Stories a sight longer than 'Er Ladyship has, so when 'er lot moved in they knew better than to move me and me snail. I 'ave two mates living in flowerbeds, but they don't have owt to say. I perch on me snail 'ere on the rockery and watch the world go by. Well, the ducks at any rate.

'Er latest little crisis is that 'er washing machine's on the blink. So what, I says? You've got soap, you've got two arms, you've got a blooming river at the bottom of the garden, what more do you want? Then again, all them soap bubbles wouldn't do the ducks no good. Beakful of that stuff and they wouldn't be able to quack without gargling. So 'er's packing all them smelly socks and that into two bin bags and heading off to to get it laundry-etted.

You know what 'appens next. Anybody else would just get the washing done and come 'ome, but not 'er. 'Er's going to come back with 'er 'ead full of what-ifs. What if the queen's washing had to go to the laundry? And the theatre's washing? And the zoo? And a football team? And it all got mixed up? Now, there's a story.