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"
Nigel
Hicks
,
Miss
Trunchbull
,
"
Nigel
said
.
"
That
’
s
better
,
"
the
Trunchbull
said
.
"
Your
hands
are
filthy
,
Nigel
!
When
did
you
last
wash
them
?
"
"
Well
,
let
me
think
,
"
Nigel
said
.
"
That
’
s
rather
difficult
to
remember
exactly
.
It
could
have
been
yesterday
or
it
could
have
been
the
day
before
.
"
The
Trunchbull
’
s
whole
body
and
face
seemed
to
swell
up
as
though
she
were
being
inflated
by
a
bicycle
-
pump
.
"
I
knew
it
!
"
she
bellowed
.
"
I
knew
as
soon
as
I
saw
you
that
you
were
nothing
but
a
piece
of
filth
!
What
is
your
father
’
s
job
,
a
sewage
-
worker
?
"
"
He
’
s
a
doctor
,
"
Nigel
said
.
"
And
a
jolly
good
one
.
He
says
we
’
re
all
so
covered
with
bugs
anyway
that
a
bit
of
extra
dirt
never
hurts
anyone
.
"
"
I
’
m
glad
he
’
s
not
my
doctor
,
"
the
Trunchbull
said
.
"
And
why
,
might
I
ask
,
is
there
a
baked
bean
on
the
front
of
your
shirt
?
"
"
We
had
them
for
lunch
,
Miss
Trunchbull
.
"
"
And
do
you
usually
put
your
lunch
on
the
front
of
your
shirt
,
Nigel
?
Is
that
what
this
famous
doctor
father
of
yours
has
taught
you
to
do
?
"
