1) Auntie's Pancake

Uncle Stephen came in from fixing the wooden gate to the back garden. Aunty Pancake, as she was known by her nephews and nieces, was cooking up some bacon in a pan for breakfast. Uncle Stephen had picked up the local Isle of Man newspaper on his way in and was reading the light-hearted news which filled the centre of the sheets.

‘Listen to this darling,’ he said, ‘Apparently the world record for the largest pancake was broken yesterday.’

The bacon sizzled as Auntie Pancake temporarily lost her grip on the pan handle. It was mechanical the way she threw the bacon, still wet and raw on one side, onto a nearby plate, scrubbed the pan and began making a mixture of milk, egg and flour. Uncle Stephen prodded at the bacon with his fork. He grabbed a bowl and some Shreddies. He went for the milk but Aunty Pancake brushed his hand away; he took his dry cereal into the conservatory.

The hard morning’s work had taken its toll on Uncle Stephen and so he fell asleep in the conservatory. When he woke it was just after lunch time and his stomach was rumbling. He really fancied a bacon sandwich. The kitchen door was closed, but a sweet, sickly aroma filled the hallway outside. He tried to push the door open but something spongey was blocking the way. He called to his wife. She came steaming out.

‘Marvellous,’ she said, ‘Could you build me a big pan while I make a fire pit in the garden?’

Uncle Stephen caught a glimpse of the rolls of pancake batter constricted in the kitchen like a sea monster. Not one to deny himself the joy of building or fixing, Uncle Stephen went to the DIY story and bought the necessary materials to build a large pan, as well as a spring lever so it could flip its contents.

The rows of daffodils and fuchsias were crumpled into the earth under a bonfire which blazed. The pan was set in place and the pancake moved expertly from the kitchen to the garden. Then Aunty Pancake went back to flipping and creating. Uncle Stephen got his bacon sandwich and fell asleep in the living room.

When he woke up, the sky was no longer there, nor his driveway or car. Something yellow and brown covered the windows. He tried to go into the garden, but the layers of pancake had trapped him inside the house. He yelled for Aunty Pancake but she did not respond. She was in the zone, flipping and adding and creating.

Off the coast of Liverpool, people became concerned that the Isle of Man had been devoured by a huge flat yellow monster. Government officials were made aware of this. They were terrified; it was clearly a terrorist plot. They sent their best men and women in black suits. A small ferry took them out to sea. They didn’t dare get too close to the monster which was now partially submerged into the sea. One of the men took out a large megaphone.

‘We want to make a deal with you,’ he said, ‘What are your demands?’

Another of the black suits got her on her mobile phone.

‘You can bring me a tape measure. And best bring yourself some lemon and sugar too.’

They could hear her laughing down the phone.