27/05/2025
THE ADVENTURES OF HOWFENMAN: THE GREAT DAIRY HEIST
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Chapter One: The Empty Fridge Crisis
It started as a whisper at the Co-op.
“Got no milk,” murmured Mrs. Gregson, holding an empty bottle with tears in her eyes.
By noon, panic had spread across Westhoughton like an out-of-control trolley. Supermarkets were bare. Cafés shut their doors. Even the chip shop ran out of cheesy chips. The town's lifeblood - dairy - was gone.
An anonymous note was found on the back of a yoghurt lid:
“Thanks for the loot. Moo-ve on. — The Atherton Crew”
The people were furious. The Mayor fainted again (this time onto a wheel of imaginary Wensleydale). But there was one figure already hoofing into action.
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Chapter Two: Enter Howfenman
At the Buttsworth Dairy Depot, Barry stood before the cold storage unit, now hollow and echoing. Not a drop of milk. Not a wedge of cheese. Not even a sad Babybel.
“This means war,” he muttered, slipping on his cape and flicking a switch.
A hatch opened to reveal The Lactose Locator - a custom-built sonar device tuned to trace dairy products by smell, temperature, and passionfruit yoghurt residue.
It beeped. It buzzed. It pointed…
“Atherton,” Barry growled.
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Chapter Three: Showdown at the Cream Fortress
The Lactose Locator led him to an abandoned meat packing plant just off the A579. Inside, the Atherton Crew lounged on stolen blocks of cheddar, using butter tubs as chairs and scoffing stolen yoghurts.
Their leader, Big Del, had covered himself in cream and was wearing two Babybels as earrings.
“You’ll never take our cheese, cow-boy,” Del sneered.
“You can steal our goods,” Howfenman said, “but you’ll never churn our spirit.”
With a mighty moo, he launched into action, dodging thrown cheese wheels, parrying buttered baguettes, and finally unleashing the Udder Slam - a ground-pound that sent the dairy crates flying back into their rightful coolers.
Big Del tried to flee with a wheel of brie but slipped on a puddle of Greek yoghurt and landed in disgrace.
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Chapter Four: Milk Restored
By morning, the milk vans rolled again. Children ate cereal with joy. Tea flowed like truth. And the chip shop reopened with triple cheese specials in Howfenman’s honour.
The Mayor pinned a golden cowbell to Howfenman’s chest. “Westhoughton thanks you again,” she said, dabbing her eyes with a napkin made from Stilton wrappers.
Barry just nodded. “Dairy belongs to the people,” he said.
And from every rooftop and lamppost, the townsfolk chanted:
“If he is in doubt, he’ll keep the Atherton lot out!”
To be continued…