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Special delivery for Dick and Dom.
Ooh, what is it?
This looks very exciting.
Let me see, let me see.
I'll leave it here, two metres away, do you mind?
Yes, yes, yes, we mustn't forget our social distancing.
Thank you, that's great.
Goodbye now.
Righty-o.
Crikey, it's very heavy.
Can you give me a hand, mate?
What?
Woo-hoo-hoo whoa, what's happening?
Look look, look.
It's a laptop with a message.
Oh, a lot of messages.
What does it say?
Welcome to the 500 Words Podcast.
This is the final podcast and it is stuffed full of our super amazing, fantabulous winning stories for the 500 Words Final 2020.
Did you know that 134 709 children entered the competition this year?
Wow, that is loads and that means that over a million creative children have written brilliant stories every year for the last 10 years.
Now, that is truly impressive.
Look down.
Look down.
It says here Welcome to the Fabulous 500 Words Final.
To access the stories, click this link.
Dom?
Dom?
Over here.
Look, we're stuck inside little rectangles.
Where are we?
Welcome to the 500 word Zoom party.
Ooh, we're inside the computer.
Look, there's a zoom party going on.
Oh, there's all the finalists floating in their own little boxes.
Hey, hello everyone.
Look, they're all waving hello hello hi, everyone here.
Listen, we've got a very important job to do dom, so let's concentrate.
We've got all these fabulous winning stories and we've got to share them with everyone.
We better get started then.
Thank you.
The winning story in the five to nine age group was Rory and the Giant Bloomers, read by Jodie Whittaker.
And the winning story in the 10 to 13 age group was Shoe, read by Alfred Enoch.
The 500 Words Bedtime Stories podcast with Dick and Dom.
Hello, my name is Jodie and I'm going to be reading Rory and the Giant Bloomers.
My name is James and I have a pet, but this is a pet like no other.
He's a dinosaur.
A few months ago, mum and dad took me to Dino World so I could choose a pet.
I chose Rory.
The dino keeper whispered in my ear, good choice.
He can talk.
My mouth fell open.
Rory seemed to like living in our house.
He especially liked doing the washing because he loved watching the clothes swirl round and round.
He loved it so much that one day he snuck into the washing basket and got put in the washing machine along with Dad's smelly socks and started spinning around.
From then on, he preferred hanging them out on the washing line.
I forgot to mention that Rory is a T-Rex, which makes play dates turn into runaway dates.
If only others could see how great he really was.
One day, it happened.
It was a Saturday morning when I decided to take Rory out to play in the park.
On the way there, we smelled smoke coming from old Mrs Bird's house.
Old Mrs Bird was about 125 years old and she rarely left the house.
Speaking of her house, that was ancient too, even older than the Stone Age.
We saw flames at the bottom of the house and she was standing on the window ledge on the top floor.
Rory spotted the washing line in the garden and had an idea.
There was a giant pair of bloomers, red with white spots, on the washing line.
He ran over to them and pulled them off, saying, Look at these bad boys!
I had no idea what his plan was.
He told me to pull one end of the huge knickers while he pulled the other end.
He shouted up to old Mrs Bird, Joe!
In her shock of seeing a talking dinosaur, old Mrs Bird fell right onto the pants.
I instantly realised that Rory's plan was to get her down safely, but she bounced back and forth into the air about ten times before landing and shouting.
I haven't had this much fun in years.
Soon after, we heard the sound of a fire engine.
The firefighters jumped out of the truck and extinguished the burning fire.
The chief fire officer thanked us for saving old Mrs Bird's life and said amazing work, young fellows.
You both deserve a medal and a place in the fire brigade.
I'd only just noticed that there was a huge crowd gathered around us.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of someone clapping, then another, and another, and another, until everyone was clapping.
And better yet, people started to cheer.
From that moment on, Everyone wanted to come round to have a playdate with me and Rory in the hope of going on our trampoline, which was made out of old Mrs Bird's giant spotty bloomers.
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words.
Bedtime Stories.
Shoo!
Hi!
I'm Ozzy and, well, I'm a fly!
My story starts 24 hours ago when I graduated from Blue Bottle Academy.
Congratulations on passing your bestie certificate.
It only seems like yesterday when you hatched, but it's actually been 18 days, said Professor Buzz.
Before I set off into the thrilling world, may I remind you of our shoe values that will help you succeed in life.
S for speed.
H for harass and hyper buzzing at all times.
The humans hate it.
O for obstinate, never give up no matter what.
And zeek opportunities. using your optics and following orders.
We salute the Pooh!
The fly is receiving the highest number of flips, flaps, and swats.
When the buzz goes, we'll win the shoe award.
Good luck, and may the shoe be with you-s.
After a rapturous buzz, a moving black cloud of eager flies swarmed up into the sky.
Some went left, others went right, but I
Dizzily, I followed the smell to a steaming pile of manure.
I somersaulted and oozed into the warmth, rubbing it all over like soap, during which thousands of images created a polaroid of my target, wickedly rubbing my legs Together.
I formed my cunning clan.
My training days were over.
It was time to put Shu into practice.
I flew at the speed of a bullet to the unexpected picnickers, leapfrogging from shoulders to heads to arms to legs to .
I waltzed, tangoed, and American smoothed my way across the dance floor.
Leaving cool trails in elegant swirls on the icing.
Yes, my first human swat.
The reward of this motivated me to return again and again to Naz. was my middle name.
I was like a child in a sweet shop.
I created the scene of men karate chopping, women performing manic disco dances is newspapers wafting, napkins flicking.
And as for the rude words, Just when they thought they had caught me, I sprung out of the way for added annoyance.
Regrettably, the buzz went off when I was doggy paddling through these strawberries and cream.
All flies reunited in the hall. buzzing about their day's adventure.
Some chairs now empty and alas, many limping.
Professor Buzzle tapped the mic, and it is my honor to announce the winner of the shoe award.
It goes to a hush spread across the room and millions of speakerphone eyes pierce the stage in anticipation.
Ozzy, mighty buzz and bounced off the walls, not able to contain my pride.
Just one more somersault should do it from the top right corner.
And here I am.
Eight giant eyes peering down and eight hairy legs dominating over me.
Unfortunately, no amount of flips, flaps, and swats can save me now.
Karma.
Zed passing human.
The next winners to be announced were in the silver category.
The winning story in the 5-9 age group was... The Old Rabbit, read by Joanna Lumley.
And the winner in the age category 10-13 age group was For the Last Time read by Mwaksi Madenda.
This story is called The Old Rabbit.
Pat the rabbit was very sad.
He was very old, his fur was grey on his paws and around his mouth and his bones were aching.
His baby rabbits had all grown up and moved away and had bunnies of their own.
His mum and dad had died many years ago and he missed talking to them.
But most of all he missed his lovely wife, Pearl.
All the time.
Pat was also fed up of running from the mean farmer who was always chasing him with his gun.
He never dug holes anymore, and he only ate the carrots easy to dig up these days.
Today, it was raining and gray.
The sky was black and the grass was muddy and wet, and it was really windy and cold.
So Pat decided to hide in the barn until the rain stopped before he went looking for carrots.
As Pat dried off from the rain, he drifted to sleep.
Pat woke up feeling very warm.
He could see the bright sunshine coming through the walls of the barn and he could hear rabbits' chilly, chilly chat coming from outside.
Pat started to creep outside.
His bones felt light and he noticed the fur on his paws was a lovely brown color, like they used to be.
Pat's bones didn't ache and he didn't feel sad.
But he didn't know why.
Outside he noticed the grass was so green it didn't look real.
It almost sparkled.
It was so soft it felt like he was walking on green clouds.
And there were piles of carrots everywhere with no mud on them.
You wouldn't even have to dig them up or wash them.
Then he saw a little way away under a tree there was a group of about 50 rabbits, all whispering and smiling and watching him.
Suddenly he saw a beautiful lady rabbit step forward and walk towards him with her arms open and crying, and nearly swallowed his little rabbit tongue.
It was Pearl.
He ran to her and he kissed her all over her face and he cried and he said to Pearl I've missed you so much, my love.
And she cuddled him so tight and whispered in his ear, I've been waiting a long time for you, Pat.
He then realised he recognised the shapes and voices of the rabbits standing nearby, all watching him and smiling.
It was his mum and dad, his aunties and his uncles and even his nan and granddad.
He looked at Pearl and dazed and she smiled and she said, they've been waiting too.
Pat was so happy but so confused as he cried with happiness into Pearl's fur.
He whispered, Pearl, I'm so happy.
I feel like I'm in heaven.
To which Pearl replied with a smile, my wonderful, beautiful Pat, you are.
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words.
Bedtime Stories.
This is For The Last Time.
For the last time, will you please place it on the table?
Her mother said quietly.
Her brothers and sisters were happily playing upstairs, but as the eldest, she was expected to help.
So she carefully and proudly lifted the shiny silver menorah from its place on the sideboard and put it in the pride of place in the centre of the table.
She was a little disappointed that she couldn't join the games with her other siblings, but she knew she had to be responsible.
The room was well decorated and cosy, clean and ready for the start of the traditional Sabbath meal.
Grandfather called the other children to come to the table and mother prepared to light the candles.
Their warm flickering light filled the cosy room as everyone huddled to it.
They all sat at the strong oak table, waiting patiently for the delightful food that mother was to bring in.
Any second now.
Just at that moment, mother did bring it in.
The smell was delightful, a smell of family, tradition, home, warmth and safety.
She couldn't wait to eat it.
The latkes, traditional potato pancakes, were carefully given out.
Everyone dug in greedily.
The lovely taste piled into their mouth.
The rosins, you know, began her grandmother while finishing off her latke.
Not now, not in front of the children, protested Mother, raising her eyebrows in a warning manner.
Let's enjoy the moment, we're all here together, she added.
After the main course, the plates were cleared to the kitchen and left, while Mother quickly brought in the colourful cheery, bright doughnuts that she had spent the afternoon making.
All the children stared at them, their mouths watering.
Everyone grabbed one before they all went, even grumpy grandmother.
Biting into the sweet, wonderful dessert was like tasting a dream.
There was one left on the plate.
Before anyone could grab it, they heard noise and shouting in the street.
With a pale face, her mother stood quietly and asked everyone to get their coat.
No one spoke.
They just obeyed.
The noise outside was getting louder.
Children crying, women screaming and strong male voices heartlessly shouting.
Then it came. the knock at their door.
There was a frightened look in her mother's eyes that no one had seen before.
Her grandmother stood there quivering and her grandfather was biting his lip, like he always did when he was nervous.
Her mother told them all to pick up the one bag they'd been told they could take and they put on their coats with the yellow star sewn on the front.
With her head held high, Mother led them outside, the whole family.
Friends and neighbours were in the street, some getting into tracks already half full of people, others watching.
Without speaking, they slowly made their way to a truck and her mother shut the front door to their home for the last time.
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words.
Bedtime Stories.
And finally, the gold winners.
The winning story in the age category 5 to 9 was The Winning Goal, read by Dua Lipa.
And the winning story in the age category 10-13 was Diary of a £5 Note, read by David Walliams.
The winning goal.
Oh, here's Fajar.
She shoots.
What a goal.
The crowd roars.
Look at her dramatic celebration.
What a powerful tackle.
Here's Fajar again.
The goalie goes in for the save and she shoots.
What a powerful shot.
It's another goal.
The ref whistles for full time.
Syria, have one.
Time for bed, Mama interrupts.
Have you filled the water bucket?
Sorry, Mama, I groan.
You aren't playing those fantasy games again, are you, Habibi?
I lumber into my scruffy tent and dive into my decaying sheets.
I wish I was a real footballer.
Then we can afford to live in a proper house, not in a lousy refugee camp.
I hardly sleep a wink that humid night under the Syrian moon.
I'm too busy remembering the bright green shutters of our old home, but that's gone now.
Boom.
I wake with a start.
We need to find cover, Mama cries.
The Alcannibal are coming.
Bright, burning flames crash against the dry earth.
Scala ashes scatter as if they're being hunted down.
The earth shakes under the weight of the thunderous weapons.
The noise is deafening.
We slip and stumble away from the camp, trying to find cover.
Quick!
To the mountains!
I know a route up there!
I call out to Mama behind me.
As we clamber up the steep cliff, I hear a high-pitched scream.
I shudder.
Death is on the doorstep for us all.
We find a craggy cave hidden behind a tattered tree atop the mountainous rocks.
We lie huddled on the rough floor, wondering what to do next.
I wake at dawn, shivering from the cold.
I sneak out, careful not to wake Mama.
Under the horizon.
I can vaguely make out the shape of the camp blackened and charred from the Alcannibal.
Sadness overcomes me.
This is the second time my home has been destroyed.
I look around to see if there is anything to eat.
I distinguish a clutter of figs high up in the branches of the tree.
I stretch, but I can't reach them.
What should I do?
Then I spot a rusty can amongst the rocks.
I pick it up and place it about a meter away from the edge of the cliff and kick it as hard as I can.
It flies up above my head faster and faster, then finally it strikes the middle of the branch.
The figs are on.
The branch begins to shake, then it snaps and the figs fall into the soft bushes below them.
I feel proud as a peacock, as if I've scored the winning goal.
Mama, I found us something to eat.
Mama stares at me, speechless, then hugs me weakly.
We eat gleefully.
Pulp and seeds go everywhere.
Maybe I will be a famous footballer one day.
But for now, I have Mama to care for and I have hope.
That's a great start.
The diary of a five-pound note.
Day one.
Born today.
But why am I here?
All I know, I emerged from this machine, which printed two ugly images on me.
On one side a rather fancy-looking woman and on the other a stern grumpy, balding man.
Not the look I would have chosen.
Day three.
Today I was inside another machine.
Met loads of other notes just like me.
Discovered they call us fivers.
Loved it.
Cozy, warm and friendly.
But next second I get shoved out of a tiny slot into the cold.
Some grubby hand stuffed me in a pouch.
Now it's just me and a fifty pound note.
Thinks he's ten times better than me.
Hope I'm out of here soon.
Day 63.
Still here.
Bored.
Been in the same wallet for weeks now.
Nothing ever happens except the £50 note bragging.
Then some coins dropped on my head.
Ouch!
I'm getting really claustrophobic now.
Also, I started wondering about the meaning of my life.
Day 102.
Been put in an old rusty tray.
But I have my own compartment with some other fibres.
That's great.
Mates and new friends.
We've got lots in common.
However, there's a weird scent of expired Kit Kats and Rolos.
Day 103.
Rude awakening today.
There was a massive ka-ching and the tray was jerked out.
A few of my buddies got swiped away.
Then ka-ching again.
The tray was slammed back in.
Got a headache now.
Day 167.
My latest wallet, home, was snatched by a small, podgy child.
She pulled me out, then twisted me, drawled on me, and put me in her mouth and chewed me.
Worst pain ever!
Excruciating!
Fortunately, I made from the finest thermoplastic polymers.
My ego was more damaged than my edges.
Day 248.
Shocking day.
This lady was rushing down the road and dropped me onto the horrible grimy street floor.
Laid there for hours.
I got trodden on, rained on, and finally driven over by a 50-ton truck.
Cheers!
Day 439 AM.
Today, I got shoved into a suitcase with loads of my other friends.
Saw a hooded man.
He looked mean.
Heard gunshots, screams, and a very loud alarm.
Forget what all the fuss and noise was for.
Day 439 PM.
Heard sirens.
Then more gunshots.
Suitcase was opened.
Looked up to see a friendly man with a shiny badge and stripes on his shoulder.
Got transferred back into a machine like the one I started in.
Still don't get my life.
Why am I here?
Day 3784.
I've seen quite a lot over these years, but something different happened today.
My latest owner was strolling through a park and stopped in front of an old man.
His clothes were ragged.
He was sat on a crumpled sleeping bag on the floor.
With desperation, he begged, Any change, mate?
I was handed over.
The man started sobbing gently.
He wept.
You've just saved my life, mate.
My owner smiled.
Finally, I think I know why I'm here.
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words, the bedtime stories podcast.
Oh, those winning stories were absolutely brilliant and read by some fabulous guests.
And this Zoom party has been really great fun.
Oh, look over there.
There's Zoe.
Hey, Zoe.
Hey, Zoe.
And look, there's Gareth Malone.
Oh, listen, he's just started a singing lesson.
Come on, let's join in.
Are you sure?
Yeah, come on.
It'll be fun.
I love singing.
Does everybody know Somewhere Over the Rainbow?
Give me a little thumbs up if you know it.
Great, it's a fantastic tune, isn't it?
It's a beautiful, beautiful song.
Let's warm up our voices ready to sing.
Somewhere over the rainbow Way up high.
We wanted to say a big big, big thank you to all of you for all the stories over the years.
You are all brilliant.
Before we go, let's hear from the Oxford University Press.
500 words competition revealed that the coronavirus is the 2020 Oxford Children's Word of the Year.
The word coronavirus appears for the first time in the 500 word stories in 2020.
Young writers used it 459 times, with Wuhan and COVID-19 also featuring among the total of 134709 entries to the competition.
Don't forget though, keep writing and remember, believe in yourself and you will be unstoppable.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
And the BBC News Channel, streaming live 24-7.
From less than a dollar a week for your first year.
Read, watch and listen to trusted independent journalism and storytelling.
Find out more at bbc.com.
