The Platinum-Blond Man

           TherewasnodoubtinMatilda’smindthatthislatestdisplayoffoulnessbyherfatherdeservedseverepunishment,andasshesateatingherawfulfriedfishandfriedchipsandignoringthetelevision,herbrainwenttoworkonvariouspossibilities.Bythetimeshewentuptobedhermindwasmadeup.

           Thenextmorningshegotupearlyandwentintothebathroomandlockedthedoor.Aswealreadyknow,Mrs.Wormwood’shairwasdyedabrilliantplatinumblonde,verymuchthesameglisteningsilverycolourasafemaletightrope-walker’stightsinacircus.Thebigdyeingjobwasdonetwiceayearatthehairdresser’s,buteverymonthorsoinbetween,Mrs.WormwoodusedtofreshenitupbygivingitarinseinthewashbasinwithsomethingcalledPLATINUMBLONDEHAIR-DYEEXTRASTRONG.Thisalsoservedtodyethenastybrownhairsthatkeptgrowingfromtherootsunderneath.ThebottleofPLATINUMBLONDEHAIR-DYEEXTRASTRONGwaskeptinthecupboardinthebathroom,andunderneaththetitleonthelabelwerewrittenthewordsCaution,thisisperoxide.Keepawayfromchildren.Matildahadreaditmanytimeswithfascination.Matilda’sfatherhadafinecropofblackhairwhichhepartedinthemiddleandofwhichhewasexceedinglyproud."Goodstronghair,"hewasfondofsaying,"meansthere’sagoodstrongbrainunderneath."

           "LikeShakespeare,"Matildahadoncesaidtohim.

           "Likewho?"

           "Shakespeare,daddy."

           "Washebrainy?"

           "Very,daddy."

           "Hehadmassesofhair,didhe?"

           "Hewasbald,daddy."