So now Dan drove the dwarfs round in a very old van, and tried to find them work. And keep them sober. And stop them from stealing. All of which was a lot harder than it sounded, and it already sounded quite hard.

Today, Dan’s Dwarfs were on their way to the grand opening of Honest Ed’s¹⁹ Used Car Showrooms just outside the town of Biddlecombe. Why Honest Ed felt that a quartet of surly dwarfs would help him sell more dodgy cars was unclear, but Dan took the view that his was not to reason why, but just to take the money and run before something bad happened, which, when the dwarfs were involved, it usually did.

This was why, as Dan drove the dwarfs to their latest job in his rattling van, he was wondering if you could really continue to be upbeat when you were responsible for four dwarfs who appeared set on proving that good things did not always come in small packages.

“Lot of traffic today,” said Jolly, who often wasn’t.

“It’s moving fast, though,” said Angry, who often was.

“Anyone in a car that’s moving fast mustn’t have bought it from Honest Ed,” said Dozy, who often was as well. “His cars are so old, they come with a bloke to walk in front of them waving a red flag.”²⁰

“Nwarglesput,” said Mumbles, which is self-explanatory.

“Listen, lads,” said Dan. “Let’s not have any trouble, right? We go in, we dance around the cars, we look happy, we collect the check, and we leave. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?” said Angry. “You’re not going to be dancing around in a funny hat, only us. There’s no dignity to it.”

“There’s fifty quid each to it,” said Dan.

“I suppose so,” said Angry. “It’s still no job for a grown man.”

“You’re not a grown man,” said Dan. “That’s the point. If you were a grown man, they wouldn’t be paying you to dance around a car showroom wearing a hat with bells on it and a shirt that says ‘Honest Ed’s Cars—the Lowest Prices Around!’ ”

“We’re not actually low,” said Jolly. “We’re small. There’s no reason why we should be wearing shirts advertising low prices. Small prices maybe, but not low ones.”

“You’re small and low,” said Dan. “You’re low to the ground. Can you reach things on high shelves without standing on chairs? No. So you’re low.”

“Still don’t like it,” said Jolly.

“Never mind that,” said Dan. “We’re nearly there. The local newspaper is sending someone along to take pictures, and a disc jockey from Biddlecombe FM radio—‘The Big B!’—will be playing tunes and giving away prizes.”

“What kind of prizes?” asked Jolly.

“Mugs. Stickers. Pens,” said Dan.

“Fantastic,” said Angry. “I can just see someone winning a pen and dying of happiness.”

“Or a mug,” said Jolly. “There’ll probably be some old lady who’s dreamed all her life of having a mug to call her own. She’s been drinking tea out of holes in the ground for all these years, and suddenly—bang!—she wins a mug. They’ll write songs about it, and people will tell their children of it for generations to come: ‘You know, I was there the day old Mrs. Banbury won a mug.’ ”