In fairy tales, witches wear silly black hats and they ride on broomsticks.
They're squeezing!
Like I'm in an iron suit getting smaller and smaller.
Now prickling.
I don't feel myself any longer.
But this story is not a fairy tale.
This story is real.
I'm only an inch from the floor.
I've got very front paws.
I'm... a mouse!
They dress in ordinary clothes and they live in ordinary houses.
There could be one right next to you, right now.
Now for the mousetrap!
Snappity-snapp!
Snappity-snapp!
I'm not waiting for that!
The Grand High Witch has given me 500 doses of Formula 86 Delayed Action Mouse Maker as part of her plan to turn all the children of England into mice, so that their school teachers will kill them with mouse traps.
And she's about to set one for me.
I run, I run across the ballroom floor like a streak of lightning over the Witch's feet, as fast as my four furry legs will carry me.
I'm running, running for my life.
I was right about witches.
They could be anyone.
And they do hate children.
They hate them enough to turn them into mice.
I need a place to hide.
Behind this chair leg looks best.
The witches search everywhere but they can't find me.
Leave the little stinkpot alone.
It's not worth bothering about.
It is only a mouse now.
Yes, your grandness.
Somebody else will soon catch it.
Let us get out of here.
The meeting is over.
And with that, the witches all leave.
Soon, the ballroom is empty and silent.
I begin to move cautiously.
Then I remember something.
Bruno Jenkins?
Another boy transformed into a mouse.
He must be around here somewhere.
Bruno!
I try calling out and I get the shock of my life.
My voice is exactly the same as it was when I was a boy.
Hey, Bruno Jenkins, where are you?
My perfectly normal, rather loud voice is coming out of my tiny mouth.
If you can hear me, give me a shout.
I potter about between the chair legs, trying to get used to being so close to the ground.
I soon decide I rather like it.
This is good fun.
I could get used to being a mouse.
What's so special about being a boy, anyway?
Boys have to go to school.
Mice don't.
They don't have to pass exams.
They don't have to worry about money.
Mice have only two enemies, cats and humans.
My grandmama is a human, and I know for certain that she will always love me whatever I am.
And she would never keep a cat.
Mmm, this is tasty.
Up ahead, I see another mouse crouching on the floor, nibbling on a piece of bread.
Bruno, what have you found?
Fish paste sandwich.
One of them dropped it.
It is pretty good.
Listen, Bruno, now that we're both mice, I think we ought to start thinking a bit about the future.
What do you mean, we?
You being a mouse has got nothing to do with me.
But you're a mouse too.
I'm not.
You are.
Leave me alone, will you?
Don't you know what's happened?
What are you talking about?
The witches turned you into a mouse.
Then they did it to me too.
You're lying.
If you hadn't been so busy guzzling that sandwich, you would have noticed your hairy paws.
Look at them.
What are you talking about?
I told you.
I've got fur.
I am a mouse.
You wait till my father hears about this.
He may think it's an improvement.
I don't want to be a mouse.
I refuse to be a mouse.
I'm Bruno Jenkins.
Stop jumping up and down.
Look at the positives.
You can live in a hole.
I don't know what to live in a hole.
And you can creep into the larder at night.
Oh, I suppose.
Nibbling your way through all the packets in there.
Cornflakes, raisins, chocolate biscuits.
Is that what mice do?
You can stay there all night eating yourself silly.
Now that's a thought.
But how am I going to open the fridge to get at the cold chicken and all the leftovers?
That's what I do every evening at home.
Your father might get you a special little mouse fridge.
One that you can open yourself with your little mouse hands.
He better had to.
Did you say a witch did this to me?
That's right.
Which witch?
The one who gave you the chocolate bar yesterday.
Filthy old cow.
I'll get her for this.
Where is she?
Forget it.
You don't have a hope.
Your biggest problem at the moment is your parents.
How are they going to take it?
What do you mean?
Well, will they treat you with sympathy and kindness?
I think... Yes?
My father is going to be a bit put out.
And your mother?
She's terrified of mice.
Then you've got a problem.
What about you?
My grandmother will understand me perfectly.
She knows all about witches.
I suggest we find her and ask her advice.
She'll know what to do.
Whatever.
Are you listening?
Of course.
Good.
Follow me.
When we get out of the corridor, we're going to have to run like mad.
Do you understand?
I can't run and eat at the same time.
Stop eating then.
That's my sandwich.
Oh, don't throw it away.
Stick close to the wall and follow me.
Do not talk and do not let anyone see you.
Don't forget that just about anyone who catches sight of you will try to kill you.
Are you ready?
I suppose.
Here goes.
We leave the ballroom and I take off like a flash.
I streak down the corridor, through the library and the drawing room and come to the stairs.
Are you with me, Bruno?
Right here.
Grandmother's room is on the fifth floor.
It's quite a climb.
Great!
We make it up five flights of stairs without meeting a single person.
On the fifth floor, we race along the corridor and stop outside her room.
So how do we get in?
I don't know.
Genius.
It's the chambermaid.
She'll drown us in a bucket of water if she catches us.
What shall we do?
Hide.
Hide where?
Anywhere.
I'm no good at hiding.
My grandmother's shoes.
She's left them outside the door to be cleaned.
You get in one, I'll get in the other.
What's happening?
Shhh.
Oh, the shoes.
I'll take them down now.
The maid's hand is right inside the shoe.
One of her fingers brushes against my whiskers.
Help!
Without thinking, I bite.
She drops the shoe.
What on earth is going on out here?
Mice!
Mice are attacking me!
Bruno, get inside before the door's open.
Hurry!
We're in!
Yes!
Who's talking?
It's me.
Where are you?
Down here.
Grandmother is looking straight at my pointy little face.
She knows it is me and her eyes stretch so wide I can see the whites all around them.
She starts to tremble.
Oh, my poor sweet darling.
What have they done?
Don't cry, Grandmama.
Things could be a lot worse.
I'm still alive.
So is Bruno.
Oh, come here.
She bends down very slowly and picks me up in one hand and Bruno in the other.
She puts us both on the table next to the fruit bowl.
Lastly, unpack this after that exhaustion.
They've changed you, just like poor Harald and little Solveig.
I know what i am grandma, but the funny thing is i don't feel too bad about it.
You don't, in fact, i'm feeling good.
Oh, my dearest.
I know i'm not a boy anymore, but it will be all right.
As long as i've always got you to look after me, of course, i will look after you.
Who is the other one?
He was a boy called bruno jenkins.
They got him first.
Oh, i need a cigar.
Tell me, when did this happen?
Where is the witch now?
Grandmama, it wasn't just one.
It was hundreds.
They're right here in the hotel.
You don't mean... You mean they're holding the annual meeting right here?
They've held it, Grandmama.
It's finished.
I heard it all.
And all of them, including the Grand High Witch herself, are downstairs now.
No!
They're pretending they're the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.
And they caught you?
They smelt me out.
Dog's droppings, was it?
Yes, but it wasn't strong.
Another week's worth of dirt and they would never have detected the stink waves.
That is unfortunate.
I need you to tell me everything that has happened.
Don't leave anything out.
I take a deep breath and I begin to talk.
I tell her about hiding behind the screen in the ballroom and the small woman who peeled her own face off.
It was a mask Grandmama, and underneath her real face was horrible, like something that had gone rotten.
Go on, don't stop.
Then they all took their wigs and their gloves and their shoes off.
And they were all bald, with sharp claws and square feet.
Just like you said.
The Grand High Witch shot fiery white-hot sparks from our eyes and turned one of them into a puff of smoke.
I've heard of that, but...
I have never quite believed it.
You are the first non-witch to witness it ever.
Really?
It is her favourite punishment.
It is known as getting fried.
I'm told she makes it a rule to fry at least one witch at each annual meeting.
Why, Grandmama?
To keep the others on their toes, of course.
But they don't have any toes.
Please go on.
Then I tell her about how they changed me, about Formula 86, delayed action, Mousemaker and the Grand High Witch's plan to turn all the children of England into mice.
She wants them all to be killed.
Every last one.
I knew it.
I knew they were brewing up something tremendous.
We've got to stop them.
You can't stop witches.
Just look at the power the terrible Grand High Witch has in her eyes alone.
She could kill any of us at any time with those white hot sparks of hers.
You saw it yourself.
We have to.
Tell me about Bruno.
How did they get him?
That hag of a witch gave me some chocolate.
Yes, it's a potion.
It was a very tasty bar, though.
Does he ever stop eating?
Only when the food runs out.
Can you explain something to me, Grandmama?
I'll try.
Why can Bruno and me still talk and think like we could before?
That's quite simple.
All they've done is shrink you and give you four little legs and a furry coat.
They haven't been able to change you into a 100% mouse.
You still have your own mind and your own voice, and thank goodness for that.
So I'm not just an ordinary mouse.
I'm sort of half person, half mouse.
Quite right.
You are very special.
She lifts me onto her lap and begins to gently stroke the soft fur along my back.
That feels nice.
You will always be special to me.
Grandma, I think I've got an idea.
What is it, darling?
The Grand High Witch said her room was number 454.
Right.
This room is number 554.
554 is on the fifth floor.
So 454 will be on the fourth floor.
That is correct.
That means room 454 could be directly underneath room 554.
It is certainly possible.
But what if it is?
Take me out onto the balcony so I can look down.
All the rooms in the Hotel Magnificent have their own private balconies.
What do you see?
That one immediately below must be the Grand High Witches.
If I could get down there, I could get into her room.
And get caught all over again?
I won't allow it.
At this moment, the witches are down on the Sunshine Terrace having tea.
So?
The Grand High Witch won't be back until six o'clock.
That's when she's going to dish out the Formula 86 delayed action.
Mouse maker to the ancient witches.
And if you did manage to get into her room?
What then?
I could find the place where she keeps it.
I could steal a bottle and bring it back here.
How would you carry it?
It's a very small bottle.
And if you did manage to get it?
One bottle is enough for 500 people.
We could turn each and every witch down there into a mouse.
Give them a dose of their own medicine.
What a fantastic idea!
You're a genius!
My grandmother suddenly jumps about an inch in the air and I nearly bounce out of her hand over the railings of the balcony.
Whoa!
Be careful with me, Grandmama.
We'd get rid of every witch in England in one fell swoop.
And the Grand High Witch too.
It's got to be worth a try.
If we carry this off, then it will be the greatest triumph in the whole history of witchery.
There's a lot of work to do.
Of course, there's a lot of work to do for a start, even if you did manage to get one of those bottles.
How would you get it into their food?
That's for later.
Let's get hold of the stuff first.
We shall find out immediately if the room below is really hers.
Now, come along.
MUSIC PLAYS
She carries me in one hand along the corridor, counting the number of doors we pass until we reach the stairs, then down one flight to the fourth floor.
Two, three, four, five, six.
There it is, number 454.
The same number of doors.
Our room is directly below your room.
That's definitely her balcony down there.
It's a long way.
If I fall, I'll be a goner.
I can see spiked iron railings far below.
How are you going to climb down?
I'm not sure.
I've got it!
Grandmother rushes back into her room and begins rummaging in a chest of drawers.
She comes back with a ball of blue wool.
One end of it is attached to some knitting needles and a half-finished sock she's been making for me.
This is perfect.
I shall put you in the sock and low you down onto the Grand High Witch's balcony.
But we must hurry.
Any moment now that monster will be returning to her room.
In you go.
She pops me in the sock.
Are you ready?
Ready.
Good luck, my darling.
And lowers me over the balcony.
I crouch inside, holding my breath.
You're nearly there.
The sock is swinging about in the breeze.
Hold on.
It's a bit windy.
Nearly there.
There you go.
Gently does it.
I wouldn't call that gentle.
In you go.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Search the room.
On my way.
The Grand High Witch's bedroom has the same musty smell about the place I had noticed in the ballroom.
The smell of witchery.
But I don't see anything suspicious.
It looks like an ordinary bedroom.
What?
What's that?
A frog hops across the carpet and disappears under the bed.
Hurry up.
Grab the stuff and get out.
If you were the Grand High Witch and you wanted to hide something top secret, where would you put it?
I jump onto the bed to get a better view of the room.
Under the mattress?
Very carefully, I lower myself over the edge of the bed and worm my way underneath the mattress.
It's dark under here.
I can't see a thing.
I hit my head on something hard.
I reach up and feel it with my paw.
A little bottle.
And another one.
Lots of little bottles.
Walking backwards and dragging the bottle behind me, I manage to reach the edge of the mattress.
I roll the bottle off the bed onto the carpet.
It doesn't break.
Formula 86 Delayed Action Mouse Maker.
This bottle contains 500 doses.
Eureka!
I found it, Grandmama!
Come on then, darling!
I'm about to leave when three frogs hop out from under the bed and crouch on the carpet, staring at me with large black eyes.
Hello.
Hello.
They are the saddest things I have ever seen.
Did you used to be children too?
Who are you?
At that moment, the door bursts open.
Thank goodness that is over.
The Grand High Witch.
The frogs hop under the bed.
I dart after them, still clutching the bottle, and squeeze in behind one of the bedposts.
Her face comes into view, peering under the bed.
Oh, so there you are, my little froggies.
You can stay where you are until I go to bed tonight.
Then I shall throw you out of the window and the seagulls can have you for supper.
Hurry up, my darlings.
You'd better come out quickly.
Who's calling?
Oh, no.
The Grand High Witch strides across the carpet.
Who is making such a noise?
Who is it?
Who dares to trespass on my balcony?
She goes out onto the balcony itself.
What is this knitting wool hanging down here?
Oh, hello.
Who are you?
I just dropped my knitting over the balcony by mistake.
But it's okay.
I've got hold of one end of it.
I can pull it up by myself.
Thank you all the same.
And who were you talking to?
Oh, I was just talking to my little grandson.
He's been in the bathroom and it's time he came out.
He sits in there reading books and forgets completely where he is.
Do you have children, my dear?
I do not!
She comes back into the bedroom, slamming the balcony door behind her.
Now I'm stuck.
What is it now?
It is six o'clock.
We have come to collect the bottles that you promised us, oh your grandness.
I watch her feet walking across the carpet.
They look like ordinary feet.
Come in.
Do not stand there dithering in the corridor.
I don't have all night.
Thank you, Your Highness.
Thank you.
This is my only chance.
I jump out from behind the bedpost and run like lightning towards the open door.
I jump over several pairs of shoes on the way and in three seconds I am out in the corridor still clutching the precious bottle to my chest.
No one saw me.
I scamper up to the fifth floor and the door of my own bedroom.
Using the bottom of the little bottle, I tap on the door.
Grandmama, it's me.
Let me in.
Have you escaped?
Quick, come inside.
I've done it.
I've got it, Grandmama.
Look, here it is.
I've got a whole bottle of it.
My darling boy, I thought I'd never see you again.
I'm so happy you got away.
Grandmother picks me up and puts me on the table.
How did you get out of the room?
I shot out as the witches were coming in.
It was a close call.
I wouldn't want to do it again.
I saw her, you know.
I heard you talking to each other.
She is absolutely foul.
Did you see her mask?
Oh, it's amazing.
Even though I knew it was a mask, I simply couldn't tell.
It looks just like a real face.
A kindly face, and yet she's a murderer.
The most evil woman in the entire world.
She must be stopped.
What time are the witches due in the dining room for supper?
Eight o'clock.
We've got less than two hours to plan our next move.
Where's Bruno?
Over here.
Oh, dear me.
What's happened to you?
What do you mean?
You've got really fat.
Have you been in that fruit bowl the entire time?
How much have you eaten?
I'm halfway through my first banana.
I think you've had quite enough.
You're only a mouse.
It's time we return this little fellow to the bosom of his family.
Don't you agree, Bruno?
Of course you would.
Do you know where your parents might be at the moment?
They were sitting in the lounge not long ago.
I saw them as we dashed through on our way up here.
Right.
Let's go and see if they are still there.
How will you hide us?
Here, climb into my handbag.
Keep quiet and stay out of sight.
Come on, Bruno.
Her handbag is a large, bulky, black leather affair with a tortoiseshell clasp.
If you must, peep out now and again, but don't show any more than your nose.
I shall leave the clasp undone.
May I take the rest of that banana?
Oh, very well.
Anything to keep you quiet.
Now, let's go.
Can you see them?
No.
Hang on.
Over there.
No, I'm there.
Bruno's father is reading the paper.
His mother is knitting.
Oh, yes, I see them.
Excuse me.
Are you Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins?
Yes.
I'm Mr. Jenkins.
What can I do for you, madam?
I'm afraid I have some rather alarming news for you.
It's about your son, Bruno.
Bruno?
What about him?
What's the little blight he's been up to now?
Raiding the kitchen, I suppose.
It's a bit worse than that.
Worse?
Do you think we might go somewhere more private so I can tell you about it?
Private?
Why do we have to be private?
This is not an easy thing for me to explain.
I'd much rather we all went up to your room and shut down before I tell you any more.
I don't want to go up to my room.
No, we're quite comfortable here.
Thank you very much.
Kindly state your business and leave us alone.
We really can't talk in here.
There are too many people.
This is a rather personal and delicate matter.
I'll talk where I dashed well want to, madam.
Come on out with it.
There's no need for rudeness.
If Bruno's broken a window or smashed your spectacles, then I'll pay for the damage.
I'm not budging from this seat.
People are staring.
I don't care.
I've got to belong to finish.
Where is Bruno, anyway?
Tell him to come here and see me.
He's here already.
He's in my handbag. mean he's in your hand?
Are you trying to be funny?
There's nothing funny about this.
Your son has suffered a rather unfortunate mishap.
He's always suffering mishaps.
He suffers from overeating and then he suffers from wind.
You should hear him after supper.
Sounds like a brass band.
A good dose of castor oil soon puts him right.
I do think it might be better if we went somewhere private before you meet him in his present state.
The woman's mad.
Tell her to go away, dear.
The plain fact is, your son Bruno has been drastically altered.
Altered?
What the devil do you mean, altered?
Go away, you silly old woman.
I am trying to tell you as gently as I can that Bruno really is here in my handbag.
My own grandson actually saw them doing it to him.
Saw who doing what to him, for heaven's sake?
Saw the witches turn him into a mouse.
Call the manager, dear.
Have this madwoman thrown out of the hotel.
Right then.
I will show you.
Bruno, where are you?
I'm itching.
She lifts Bruno out of the bag and dumps him on the small table between Mr and Mrs Jenkins.
It's a mouse!
Take it away!
I can't stand this!
This is Bruno!
You nasty cheeky old woman!
Don't flap your newspaper at him!
You'll knock him out!
Get out of here and take that filthy mouse with you.
Oh, come along, Bruno.
Back into the handbag.
Well, I did my best.
You couldn't have done more, Grandma.
Why on earth didn't you speak up and tell your father who you were, Bruno?
You never stop eating.
I'm hungry.
What a very disagreeable little boy you are.
Not boy, mouse.
Quite right, my darling, but we don't have time to worry about that at the moment.
We have plans to make.
In about half an hour, the witches will be going down to the dining room for supper.
Yes.
And every one of them has to be given a dose of Formula 86 delayed action mouse maker.
Yes.
How on earth are we going to do that?
I think you're forgetting that a mouse can go places where a human being can't.
That is quite right.
But even a mouse can't go creeping around on the tabletop carrying a bottle and sprinkling potion all over a witch's roast beef without being spotted.
I wasn't going to do it in the dining room.
Then where?
In the kitchen, while the food is being prepared.
My darling child!
I do believe that turning you into a mouse has doubled your brain power.
A little mouse can run round in a kitchen among the pots and pans, and if he's careful, no one will ever see him.
Brilliant!
By golly, I think we've got it!
The only thing is, how will I know which food is theirs?
Well, you certainly don't want to put it in the wrong saucepan.
I would turn all the other guests into mice by mistake.
And you as well, Grandmama.
You're just going to have to creep into the kitchen, find a good hiding place, then wait and listen.
What for?
For a clue from the cooks.
When there is a big party to cater for, they usually prepare the food separately.
Right.
That's what I'll have to do.
It's going to be very dangerous.
I know.
Nobody welcomes a mouse in the kitchen.
If they see you, they'll squash you to death.
I won't let them see me.
Well, don't forget you'll be carrying the bottle.
You won't be nearly so quick a nippy.
I can run quite fast with the bottle in my arms.
What about unscrewing the top?
Where is it?
Let me try.
If I put all my strength into it...
I can do it.
Well done.
You really are a very clever mouse.
Are we all set then?
Here's the plan.
At half past seven, I should go down to the dining room for supper with you in my handbag.
Yes.
I shall release you under the table together with the precious bottle, and from then on, you'll be on your own.
I understand.
You'll have to get from the dining room to the door that leads into the kitchen.
There will be waiters going in and out all the time.
I'll just have to choose the right moment and nip in behind one of them.
For heaven's sake, make sure you don't get trodden on.
I'll try not to.
But whatever happens, don't let them catch you.
Don't go on about it.
You're making me nervous.
You are a brave little fellow.
I do love you.
What shall we do with Bruno?
I'm coming with you.
I'm not missing my supper.
You can come along if you stay in my bag and keep absolutely quiet.
Will you pass through Jasmine from the table?
Yes, if you promise to behave yourself.
Deal.
My darling, would you like something to eat?
I'm too excited.
I've got a big job ahead of me.
You'll never do a bigger one.
The time has come.
The great moment has arrived.
Are you ready, my child?
Yes, Grandmama.
We must go now.
Hang on.
Can I just raise my banana?
No!
She scoops Bruno up and puts him in her handbag.
I shall leave the clasp undone.
I clutch the little bottle to my chest as she lifts me up and kisses me on the nose.
Good luck, my darling.
And by the way...
You do realise you have got a tail, don't you?
A tail?
A long curly tail.
Oh, yeah.
I have, haven't I?
I lift my tail up and swish it from side to side.
I can curl it and twist it and shake it.
Cool.
I mention it only because it might come in useful when you're climbing around in the kitchen.
In what way?
You can hook it onto things and you can swing from it and lower yourself to the ground from high, High places.
I wish I'd known this before.
I could have practiced using it.
Too late for that now.
She places me in her handbag with Bruno, picks up her walking stick and we make our way to the lift.
Listen, I won't be able to talk to you much when we're in the dining room.
If I do, people will think I'm dirty.
I'm talking to myself.
When we get to the dining room, I peep out of the handbag.
I see two long tables.
No one is sitting down at them yet.
Each one has a notice on.
Reserved for members of the RSPCC.
My grandmother sits at her small table in the corner.
She unfolds a napkin and spreads it over the handbag in her lap, then reaches under it and gently lifts me out.
Are you holding the bottle?
Yes.
I'm ready, Grandmama.
Good evening, madam.
Good evening.
Would you like to see the menu?
Thank you.
Where is the little gentleman tonight?
He's not feeling very well.
He's staying in his room.
I'm very sorry to hear that.
That's very kind.
Our specials tonight are pea green soup to start with, and for the main course there is a choice of either grilled fillet of sole or roast lamb.
Pea soup and lamb for me, please, but don't hurry.
I'm in no rush tonight.
In fact, why don't you bring me a glass of dry sherry first?
Of course, madam.
I'll be back with it shortly.
How's your chance?
My grandmother pretends she has dropped something.
And as she bends down, she slides me out from under her napkin onto the floor.
Go, darling.
Go.
I'm on my own now.
I clutch the little bottle tightly.
The kitchen door is on the other side of the dining room.
Wish me luck.
I run.
No one sees me.
I'm just about to cross the main entrance into the dining room when...
I wait till they are all past me.
Then I make a dash for the kitchen door.
A waiter opens it to go in and I nip in behind him.
Four soups and two lambs and two fish for £10.28.
Four soups, two lambs, two fish.
I hide behind a dustbin and listen.
Everyone is rushing about.
It's peaceful.
Three apple pies and two ice creams for number 17.
Three apple pies.
Not far above my head is a handle sticking out from the top of the dustbin.
You should be able to reach that.
Holding onto the bottle, I leap, turn a somersault in mid-air and catch hold of the handle with the end of my tail.
This is great!
I swing to and fro, upside down.
This is how a trapeze artist in a circus must feel.
The old bag on table 13 says the meat's too tough.
She wants another portion.
The cook takes her plate, scrapes off the meat, and slaps another bit on instead.
Come on, guys.
Give her some gravy.
Carries the plate round to everyone in the kitchen.
Enjoy your meal, madam, you whinging old cow.
Every one of the cooks spits on the food.
All done.
Tell her we hope she chokes on it.
By the way, everyone in the big RSPCC party wants the soup.
What did he say?
I creep closer to hear what's going on.
Put a soup for the big party in the large silver soup terrain.
The cook places a huge silver basin onto the wooden side bench.
That's where the soup is going.
So that's where the stuff in my little bottle is going as well.
Up near the ceiling is a long shelf full of saucepans.
I have to get up there.
Then I'll be directly above the soup basin.
But how to get across the kitchen?
Then a great idea comes to me.
I'm going to swing like a trapeze artist.
I jump and hook my tail round the handle of the dustbin and start swinging backwards and forwards, higher and higher, at just the right moment.
One last big swing and let go with my tail.
Whee!
I fly across the kitchen and land on the middle shelf.
It's marvellous being a mouse.
From there I somehow manage to climb up a water pipe to the top shelf.
Now I just need to get above the basin out.
Right here we go.
I carefully unscrew the top of the bottle and tip it all in.
That's it, I've done it.
The next moment, the cook comes along with a gigantic saucepan of steaming green soup.
He pours it into the basin on top of the magic potion soup for the big party, all ready to go out.
Yep, I've got it.
Going out now.
The waiter picks up the silver basin and carries it away.
The witches are going to get the mouse maker.
I make my way back along the shelf.
I begin using my tail more and more.
I swing from the handle of one saucepan to the handle of another.
Ready, steady, whee!
And we'll just jump across there.
Whee!
It's great being a mouse.
I'm having so much fun, I forget something important.
I should be keeping out of sight.
I can do somersaults and backflips and... A mouse!
Look at that, a dirty little mouse.
Kill it!
I'm falling!
Help!
Catch it quick!
Ow!
My tail!
Where's my tail?
Kill it before it gets away!
It cuts off!
Step on it!
Got to run!
I twist and turn and dodge and swerve across the kitchen floor.
And then... Hide!
I run up the inside of the cook's trouser leg and cling to his sock.
He's got me trousers!
He's getting smashed if I don't move.
And the only way is up.
Oh, he's running up me leg.
Gotta get out of here.
He's in me knickers.
Oh, help.
He's running around in me flaming knickers.
Get it out.
Somebody help me get it out.
Take off your trousers.
This is not a good place to be.
Get them off.
Drop your pants and we'll soon catch him.
No, I wasn't here.
I find the top of the other trouser leg.
I go down it like ghost lightning.
I'm on the floor.
Before anyone sees me, I dive into a sack of potatoes and hide, trying to get my breath back.
You've taken your trousers off.
He's not in there.
Well, he was.
There's no mouse in your trousers.
Look.
I swear he was in there.
He was only a mouse anyway.
Not a fuss about nothing.
Have you ever had a mouse in your trousers?
No, but then I don't usually work in the kitchen wearing only my pants.
We have to get back to Grandma.
Two beef specials for table six.
A waitress comes in through the kitchen doors and I make a run for it.
I get through them just in time.
That was close.
I hide by the skirting board, my tail throbbing.
I curl it round and take a look.
It's bleeding.
A good two inches have been chopped off the end.
I hold it up as best I can and scurry back to my grandmother's table.
I shimmy up one of her legs and land in her lap.
Remember?
I'm back.
I did it.
I poured it all in.
Well done, my darling.
Well done, you.
The witches are at this moment eating their soup.
Oh, my dear child, you've got blood on you.
What happened?
One of the cooks cut off my tail with a carving knife.
Does it hurt?
Just a bit.
Let me look at it, you poor little thing.
She fishes a lace-edged handkerchief out of her bag and ties it around the end of my tail.
That should stem the bleeding.
Thank you, Grandmama.
You pour the whole bottle into the witch's soup?
Every drop.
This should be quite spectacular.
Can you lift me up so I can watch?
I'll pop you in my handbag and you can peep out when you want to.
Bruno is in there as well, but take no notice of him.
I gave him a roll to eat and that's keeping him busy.
In you go.
Hello, Bruno.
This roll's OK.
It would be nice with butter on.
I peer over the top of the handbag.
Can you see them clearly enough?
Yes.
They've finished their soup.
The waiter is taking the bowls away.
Even the Grand High Witch?
Even her.
Such a small creature.
Hard to believe she could kill you.
She could kill any one of us with her white hot sparks.
Get inside.
The waiter's coming.
Your roast lamb, madam.
And which vegetables would you like?
Peas?
Carrots?
Carrots, please.
But no potatoes.
There.
Enjoy your food, madam.
Thank you very much.
It's all right.
He's gone.
You can poke your head out again.
No one's noticed me, have they?
I don't think so.
My problem is I've got to talk to you without moving my lips.
You're doing it beautifully.
I've counted the witches.
There aren't nearly as many as you thought.
Were you just guessing when you said 200?
It seemed like 200.
I was wrong too.
I thought there were a lot more witches than this in England.
How many are there?
84.
There were 85, but one of them got fried.
Ah, Mr Jenkins.
How nice to see you again.
Where is that grandson of yours?
Excuse me?
My guess is that he and my son Bruno are up to no good.
Why do you think that?
Bruno hasn't turned up for his supper and it takes a lot to make that boy miss his food.
I must admit he does have a very healthy appetite.
Are you in on this as well?
What on earth do you mean?
I don't know who the devil you are and I don't much care.
But you played a nasty trick on me and my wife this afternoon.
You put a dirty little mouse on our table.
That makes me think all three of you are up to something.
I see.
So if you know where Bruno is hiding, kindly tell me at once.
That mouse I tried to give you was your own son.
I was trying to restore him to the bosom of his family.
Blazes, do you mean, madam?
My son is not a mouse.
This is going to get nasty.
I can well understand your anger, Mr Jenkins.
Any other English father will be just as cross as you are.
But over in Norway, where I come from, we are quite used to these sorts of happenings.
You must be mad, woman.
Where is Bruno?
If you don't tell me, I shall call the police.
Bruno is a mouse.
Bruno is most certainly not a mouse.
Oh, yes, I am.
Hello, Bruno.
Have you finished eating?
For now.
Hello, Dad.
Bruno?
Don't worry.
It's not as bad as all that.
Just as long as the cat doesn't get me.
Is it possible?
No more school.
No more homework.
I shall live in the kitchen cupboard and feast on raisins and honey.
Bruno?
How did this happen?
Witches.
The witches did it.
He can't be a mouse.
He is, Mr Jenkins.
Be nice to him.
Mrs Jenkins will go crazy.
She can't stand the things.
Well, she'll just have to get used to him.
I hope you don't keep a cat in the house.
We do.
We do.
Topsy is my wife's favourite creature.
Then you'll just have to get rid of Topsy.
Your son is more important than your cat.
He certainly is.
Would you like to know who did this to him?
That woman over there.
The small woman in the black dress at the head of the long table.
She's RSPCC.
She's the chairwoman.
No, she is not.
She's the Grand High Witch of all the world.
I'll have my lawyers onto her for this.
I'll make her pay through the nose.
I wouldn't do anything rash.
She has magic powers.
She might decide to turn you into something even worse than a mouse.
A cockroach, perhaps.
I'd like to see her try.
And with that, he marches over to where the Grand High Witch is sitting.
I watch him.
By now, everyone in the dining room has stopped eating and is watching him too.
What's going on?
Grandmama, the Grand High Witch...
Something's happening to her.
She started jumping up in the air.
She's on the tabletop, waving her arms.
What is it?
Keep quiet and listen.
They're all at it.
It's like springs are being stuck in their bottoms.
They can't keep still.
They're jumping all over the tables.
They've frozen.
They're shrinking, Grandmama.
They're shrinking just like I did.
They're growing fur on their faces.
It's the mouse maker.
It's working.
Grandmother lifts me and Bruno up so we don't miss all the fun.
In a few seconds, all the witches have completely disappeared.
Look at the tops of the tables.
They're swarming with mice.
It's time to go.
Our work is done, Bruno.
It's time to restore you to the famous bosom of your family.
The Jenkins are easy to find.
Mrs. Jenkins is shouting louder than anyone else.
Grandmother hands Bruno over to Mr. Jenkins.
Here's your little boy.
He needs to go on a diet.
Hi, Mum.
Hi, Dad.
Outside it is a lovely warm evening and I can hear the waves breaking on the beach just across the road from the hotel.
Doorman?
Is there a taxi?
Certainly, madam.
Taxi?
Taxi!
Are we going home, grandmama?
Yes, back to Norway.
Hooray!
I thought you'd like that.
But what about our luggage?
Who cares about luggage?
Yes!
Before long, we're in Norway again, in my grandmother's fine old house.
It is lovely.
We soon settle in, and I spend the evenings sitting on her lap by the fire like old times.
We keep entirely to ourselves, and we're very happy in each other's company.
Can I ask you something, Grandma?
Of course.
As the flames flicker in the grate, I look up at her wrinkled face.
How long does a mouse live?
Ah...
I've been waiting for you to ask me that.
Go on, then.
Tell me.
I'm afraid a mouse doesn't live for very long.
How long?
Well, an ordinary mouse only lives for about three years.
But you are not an ordinary mouse.
You are a mouse person, and that is a very different matter.
How long does a mouse person live?
Almost certainly three times as long.
About nine years.
That's the best news I've ever had.
Why do you say that?
Because I would never want to live longer than you.
I couldn't stand being looked after by anyone else.
How old are you, Grandmama?
I'm 86.
Will you live another eight or nine years?
I might, with a bit of luck.
Then we can both die together.
That would be perfect.
Shall I tell you something about yourself that is very interesting?
Yes, please.
The heart of a mouse, that means your heart, beats at a rate of 500 times a minute.
That's nearly nine beats every second.
That's incredible.
It's a sort of miracle.
Your heart is going so fast, it's impossible to hear the separate beats.
All one hears is a soft humming sound.
Have you ever heard my heart humming, Grandmama?
Often. when you are lying close to me on the pillow at night.
For supper that evening.
My grandmother eats an omelette and a slice of bread, and I have a piece of brown Norwegian goat's milk cheese.
Grandmama, now that we have done away with the Grand High Witch, will all the witches in the world disappear?
I'm afraid not.
When a queen bee dies, there is always another queen in the hive ready to take her place.
It's the same with witches.
In the great headquarters where the Grand High Witch lives.
Another Grand High Witch will have taken over.
That means everything we did was for nothing.
We saved the children of England.
But that's not nearly good enough.
What about the rest of the world?
Actually, I have some rather interesting news for you.
Tell me.
After we got back, I called the chief of police in Bournemouth.
I told him I was the chief of police for the whole of Norway.
And he believed you?
Of course he believed me.
He was very honoured to receive my call.
What did you ask him?
I asked him for the address of the lady who had stayed in room 454 in the Hotel Magnificent.
The lady that disappeared.
The Grand Eye Witch?
They'd found her passport in her room and her address was in it.
And guess what country she was from.
Norway!
Right, first time.
It's a castle high up in the mountains.
My grandmother gets up from the table and starts to pace excitedly, waving her stick about.
She knocks over a tall and very beautiful vase.
It smashes into a million pieces.
Oh, don't worry about it.
It's only Ming.
We have work to do, you and I.
Thank heavens you are a mouse.
A mouse can go anywhere.
All I need to do is put you down somewhere near the Grand High Witch's castle and you will easily be able to get inside and creep about looking and listening to your heart's content.
No one will ever see me.
I could spend days in there.
I myself will get a room in the village and you can sneak out of the castle every night and have supper with me and tell me what is going on.
That won't be your main job.
What will my main job be?
To destroy every witch in the castle.
Every last one of them.
That will be the end of the whole organisation.
Me?
Destroy them?
Oh, yes.
How will I do that?
Can't you think?
Formula 86 delayed action mouse maker.
Ah, you remember the recipe, don't you?
Yes.
Then that's how we'll do it.
But how can we make it?
They can make it then, so can we.
It's just a question of knowing what goes in.
But where would we find a gruntles egg or a blabber snitch?
I've never even heard of these things.
Leave all that to me.
I'll find the ingredients.
Then we'll make the potion together.
But how, Grandmama?
Never you mind about that.
My grandmother grows very quiet, lost, deep in thought.
The hand with the missing thumb quivers slightly.
Why do you hate the witches so much?
She strokes the scar, which covers the place where the thumb should be.
I have my reasons.
She reaches across and touches what is left of my tail.
And so do you.
Mouse maker is too good for them.
The mouse traps we set for them will soon sort them out.
Mousetraps would be no good.
Why not?
When I became a mouse, I didn't just become an ordinary mouse.
I became a talking, intelligent mouse person who wouldn't go near a mousetrap.
Which means if we turn the witches into talking, thinking and very, very nasty mouse witches, they'll be too cunning for a mousetrap.
You're right.
They're dangerous enough when they're disguised as ladies.
Imagine the damage a grand high witch could do disguised as a mouse.
She could go anywhere.
I've got it.
Tell me.
Cats.
Brilliant.
Bring on the cats.
Half a dozen cats will kill them all in five minutes flat.
I'll just have to make sure I'm well out of the way.
Absolutely.
And when the job's done, you can take all the cats away.
And we'll have the castle completely to ourselves.
Then we can go through the records and get the names and addresses of all the witches in the entire world.
And after that, my darling, the greatest task of all will begin.
We shall pack our bags and go travelling all over the world.
And in every country we visit we will search out the witches and leave deadly drops of formula 86, delayed action mouse maker in their food.
It will be a triumph.
A colossal, unbeatable triumph.
We shall do it entirely by ourselves.
Just you and me.
That will be our work for the rest of our lives.
My grandmother picks me up from the table and kisses me on the nose.
Oh, my goodness.
We are going to be busy these next few weeks and months and years.
I think we are.
But what fun and excitement it's going to be.
You can say that again.
I can't wait to get started.
Are you being really truthful?
It's the gospel truth, grandmama.
Are you sure you don't mind being a mouse for the rest of your life?
I don't mind at all.
In fact, I'm happy being a mouse.
And why is that?
Because I've got you, grandmama.
It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like so long as somebody loves you.
Now, shall we write down that recipe?
In part two of The Witches by Roald Dahl dramatized by Lucy Catherine Boy was played by Ryan Watson, Grandmother by Margaret Tyzak, The Grand High Witch by Amanda Lawrence and the narrator was Toby Jones.
Bruno Jenkins was played by Jordan Clark, Mr Jenkins by Ben Crow, Mrs Jenkins by Rachel Atkins and the waiter was Ben Unwukwe.
The director was Claire Grove.
