Thank you to the lovely folks who are reading my gibberish. I'll keep updating the random thought processes as I continue writing, apologies if it all seems strange, there is method to my madness and a story lurking inside that I like.

So chapter 11 opens with the goblin who ran off before they entered the giants' keep inventing a story for when he gets back home. Naturally he is carrying on a conversation with a glove puppet (the Great Mole in the scene); ok I know that's a bit weird but I think it works in its own ridiculous way. I can't imagine a goblin book without glove puppets.

Here's a snippet of what I've just written, obviously laden with spoilers.

Wise Wench, you won’t believe what happened. Me, Moaris and Urgh were in the giants’ keep, we were surrounded and just as Moaris was about to hand over the Speakme bag they attacked us. We killed many of the horrible things but they just kept coming and in the end we gave up. I think they had Moaris for lunch, and dear old Urgh, my lifelong friend, for dinner. They were ready to eat me too, they led me to the kitchen and threw me into a huge pot.

It was then that I decided I must escape and warn you. I grabbed the side of the pot and kicked it for all I was worth, the boiling water hit the cook and blinded him, but I had to fight his many-more-than-a-few...

‘No, no, no, it must be more realistic,’ said the Great Mole, wisely.

...few giants, all I could find were some salad tongs...

‘No, realistic, think properly,’ scalded the Great Mole, scaldingly.

...a big rolling pin, but I put up such a fight that one-one-and-one of them lay dead and the others fled for help. It was then that I saw the window was open and I escaped, I haven't eaten for weeks.

Crappy scratched his head and thought a little more. From high up in the oak he could still see the giants’ tower. He hadn't dared run yet because there were patrols everywhere. He thought he heard one of them talking about flattening a goblin. Which one? Am I bothered?

Wise Wench you won’t believe it. We got there but it was a trap, they killed Moaris with a really viscous sieve and then beheaded Urgh, my dearest lifelong friend, almost a brother. 'I'll have to cry at that point, crying will make it look good. That and pleading for food piteously,' said Crappy to himself, deviously.

I haven't eaten properly since we set out. What I wouldn’t give for a bag of juicy whelks. I tried to catch the Speakme bag but the giants tore it up, I grabbed the pieces and threw myself onto the fire - my whole body is covered in burns.

‘Burns, that won’t do, they'd have to real, I'm not burning myself just for this.’ Crappy whispered to himself as he puzzled on his plan.

I haven't eaten properly for days. Bonfires are great.
Crappy sat down and thought some more. The sun was slowly sinking behind the trees. The giants' tower, now a dark silhouette, looked even more fiendish and barbed than in the daylight. He tried to remember what the Wise Wench had called it, she knew everything after all.

‘She knows everything,’ said the Great Mole wisely, nodding at the goblin like glove-puppets do.

The words echoed in his head. She knows everything. She knows I'm up a tree hiding when I should have gone into the castle with the other one-more-than-one. She knows.

Rich