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'Nanny!' cried the President, banging down the phone. 'I thought this was a direct line to the Premier!'
'It is,' said Miss Tibbs. 'Try again.'
The President picked up the receiver. 'Hello!' he yelled.
'Mr Wong speaking,' said a voice at the other end.
'Mister Who?' screamed the President.
'Mr Wong, assistant stationmaster, Chungking, and if you asking about ten o'clock tlain, ten o'clock tlain no lunning today. Boiler burst.'
The President threw the phone across the room at the Postmaster General. It hit him in the stomach. 'What's the matter with this thing?' shouted the President.
'It is very difficult to phone people in China, Mr President,' said the Postmaster General. 'The country's so full of Wings and Wongs, every time you wing you get the wong number.'
'You're not kidding,' said the President.
The Postmaster General replaced the telephone on the desk. 'Try it just once more, Mr President, please,' he said. 'I've tightened the screws underneath.'
The President again picked up the receiver.
'Gleetings, honourable Mr Plesident,' said a soft faraway voice. 'Here is Assistant-Plemier Chu-On-Dat speaking. How can I do for you?'
'Knock-Knock,' said the President.
"Who der?'
'Ginger.
'Ginger who?'
'Ginger yourself much when you fell off the Great Wall of China?' said the President. 'Okay, Chu-On-Dat. Let me speak to Premier How-Yu-Bin.'
'Much regret Plemier How-Yu-Bin not here just this second, Mr Plesident.'
'Where is he?'
'He outside mending a puncture on his bicycle.'
'Oh no he isn't,' said the President. 'You can't fool me, you crafty old mandarin! At this very minute he's boarding our magnificent Space Hotel with seven other rascals to blow it up!'
'Excuse pleese, Mr Plesident. You make big mistake...'
'No mistake!' barked the President. 'And if you don't call them off right away I'm going to tell my Chief of the Army to blow them all sky high! So chew on that, Chu-On-Dat!'
'Hooray!' said the Chief of the Army. 'Let's blow everyone up! Bang-bang! Bang-bang!'
'Silence!' barked Miss Tibbs.
'I've done it!' cried the Chief Financial Adviser. 'Look at me, everybody! I've balanced the budget!' And indeed he had. He stood proudly in the middle of the room with the enormous 200 billion dollar budget balanced beautifully on the top of his bald head. Everyone clapped. Then suddenly the voice of astronaut Shuckworth cut in urgently on the radio loudspeaker in the President's study. 'They've linked up and gone on board!' shouted Shuckworth. 'And they've taken in the bed... I mean the bomb!'
The President sucked in his breath sharply. He also sucked in a big fly that happened to be passing at the time. He choked. Miss Tibbs thumped him on the back. He swallowed the fly and felt better. But he was very angry. He seized pencil and paper and began to draw a picture. As he drew, he kept muttering, 'I won't have flies in my office! I won't put up with them!' His advisers waited eagerly. They knew that the great man was about to give the world yet another of his brilliant inventions. The last had been the Gilligrass Left-handed Corkscrew which had been hailed by left-handers across the nation as one of the greatest blessings of the century.
'There you are!' said the President, holding up the paper. 'This is the Gilligrass Patent Fly-Trap!' They all crowded round to look.
'The fly climbs up the ladder on the left,' said the President. 'He walks along the plank. He stops. He sniffs. He smells something good. He peers over the edge and sees the sugar-lump. "Ah-ha!" he cries. "Sugar!" He is just about to climb down the string to reach it when he sees the basin of water below. "Ho-ho!" he says. "It's a trap! They want me to fall in!" So he walks on, thinking what a clever fly he is. But as you see, I have left out one of the rungs in the ladder he goes down by, so he falls and breaks his neck.'
'Tremendous, Mr President!' they all exclaimed. 'Fantastic! A stroke of genius!'
