Mummy, Why Isn't Greg The Yellow Wiggle Anymore?

Greg was exhausted. It had been a long day. The trouble began in the morning.

Breakfast everyone!" Greg called. "We've got a big day ahead!" Murray and Anthony came to the table along with Dorothy the Dinosaur, Henry the Octopus, Wags the Dog and Captain Feathersword. But where was Jeff?

"Where's Jeff?" Greg asked. "We have so much to do - we need Jeff!"

"I think he's asleep again, me hearties," the Captain offered.

"Oh no," said Greg. "We'll have to wake him up. Ready everybody? One, two, three, ... WAKE UP JEFF!" Jeff bounced out of bed smiling and jumping around, making bird noises. How strange. Such a compulsive and deep sleeper, such an easy waker. "Odd," thought Anthony. "Narcolepsy or lazy old man?" he wondered.

"Now I have a few things to talk to you about. I'm glad I've got you all together," said Greg. "There's a bit of a mess outside. Who is responsible for the desecration of my roses again? Dorothy?" She shrunk under his gaze. "This can't go on, Dorothy. If you can't control yourself I'll need to spray garlic on my roses. And what about the holes in the ground? Was that you too?"

"Woof," said Wags sadly and put his tail between his legs. Greg was disappointed. "Oh no Wags, have you been running around, digging the ground again? Oh me, oh my! How many times have I told you..." And Wags whimpered.

"Never mind everyone, we'll fix the yard later. We've got a bit to do today so let's just focus on today's tasks, okay? Now Anthony, you're off to your Overeaters Anonymous meeting, aren't you?"

"I hardly see why it's necessary," complained Anthony. "I only eat fruit salad (yummy yummy) and vegetable soup (uh uh huh), but they seem to think that because eating is my schtick that I need to attend the classes!"

"Yes, whatever, " said Greg, getting impatient. "Look, I need to you run an important errand when you go. Can you take Wags to the vet for me?"

"Sure, what's up with Wags?" asked Anthony

"He's got the mange" replied Greg. Everybody stared at Wags and moved a little bit further away.

"Ohhh-kay..." said Anthony, suddenly unsure. "You'll have to stay in the back, Wags. And don't chew on the seats or shed hair in the Big Red Car. Come on, boy."

"Woof," said Wags.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door of the Wiggle House. "Who can that be?" wondered Greg.

Officer Beaples stood outside the door. "Ello ello ello! And what 'ave we 'ere?"

"Oh, good morning officer," said Greg. "Actually you've caught us at a pretty bad time - I wonder if you wouldn't mind..."

"Well your day is about to get a bit worse, my lad," said the officer. "We've 'ad a complaint about Murray's guitar playing."

"A complaint? Surely there must be some mistake, Officer."

"No mistake, laddie. Turns out your neighbours aren't all that fond of 'Music With Murray' after all. They've asked me to come down 'ere and hin-vestigate! 'Ang on a minute, what's all this then?"

The good officer had caught sight of Anthony about the set off in the Big Red Car. "That registration sticker appears to 'ave hex-pired. Could I see your license please sir?" Anthony sheepishly handed over his drivers license as Officer Beaples began checking the Big Red Car for any "hin-dications of hun-roadworthiness."

As Greg stood there aghast, Henry the Octopus raced out of the house with his tentacles flying this way and that. "Where do you think you're going?" demanded Greg.

"I've got a lunch date with Chef Alfonso - we had a really good chat after the show last night. He said he liked the look of me at the show and he had some new ideas for me!"

"You're not thinking of leaving The Wiggles are you?" demanded Greg.

"Oh, no, not at all, not at all," reassured Henry. "No, quite the opposite. I think Chef Alfonso might have some good ideas for how I could be used in our upcoming shows! He mentioned some of his ideas to me, let me see now, there was a thing called Octopus Terrine, that sounded like me doing some singing number, and there was Octopus Confit and Octopus Risotto too - I think they're different types of circus tricks or something. Anyway, they sound great and Alfonso said we could discuss them today. He said he'd have me for lunch, so I'll head off now ..."

"No no no no!" screamed Greg. "Henry, come back here! I think we need to have a little talk."

Henry sat down in a huff and crossed a few of his legs.

"But before I talk to you I have something to sort out with Captain Feathersword. Where are you, Captain!?"

"Ooh, yes, Gregory," said the Captain, appearing from the kitchen.

"Listen, we need to discuss your use of the feathersword inside the house. I'm getting quite tired of being tickled all day long! Look, it's a little annoying getting a tickle in the ear while you're cooking ..." Greg complained.

"Okay," said the captain giggling.

"... and it's quite frustrating to be tickled on the back of the neck while you're hanging out the washing ..." Greg continued.

"Okay," said the captain again, chuckling.

"... and it really gets my goat when I'm tickled up the nose while I'm trying to get some sleep ..." Greg went on.

"Okay," said the captain one more time, chortling.

"... but when I'm just sitting down for five minutes of peace on the toot and I'm tickled on the ... Captain! Why are you laughing? You have been a Serial Pest since we moved in here! Do you think this is funny?"

"Oooh, yes, I do Gregory, hee hee heeee!" guffawed the Captain.

"ALL RIGHT!" screamed Greg. "I've had enough of this! I thought that we worked well enough on stage that we could manage living under the same roof! BUT I WAS WRONG! It's bedlam, and I can't stand it! I'm quitting!" And Greg stormed off in disgust, striding down the street. "Let's see how Sam manages this!" he muttered.