My Grimoire and Your Grimoire, Sittin’ By the Fire

The house was redolent with the smell of newly-roasted marshmallows, which was unexpected enough. Dave knew something was up when, in the hallway, he had to squeeze past a politely-spoken but enormously tall yellow Bird, a cheerful Tank Engine, and a bemused-looking Wiggle. But it wasn’t until he reached the lounge, and watched, gobsmacked, while his young son summoned up a TeleTubby, that he realised how badly they had erred in buying for little Billy that arcane-looking ‘How to Spell‘ book. And as for his wife … Dave just hoped that she had popped next door for a moment, or that ‘Newt to Mummy’ wasn’t on one of the pages currently smouldering in the grate.

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