The Great Custard Catastrophe

Every year, St. Bartholomew’s School tried to outdo itself at the annual Summer Fair.
One year it had been the Soggy Sponge Soak (in which unfortunate Year 6 prefects
were pelted with damp sponges until they resembled dishcloths). Another year, the
highlight was the Human Wheelbarrow Race - an event swiftly banned after two
parents collided headfirst and had to be peeled apart like stubborn Velcro.

This year, however, the organisers were certain they had struck comedy gold. The main
attraction would be none other than the Custard Pie Throwing Competition. Simple.
Safe. Fool-proof. At least, that was the theory.

Mr. Pickering, the PE teacher, insisted that a custard pie could not be treated like a
common Frisbee. It required discipline, posture, and athletic finesse. To prove the point,
he mounted the stage in front of the school hall, custard pies balanced precariously on
both hands like he was auditioning for Cirque du Soleil.

“Observe the stance!” he bellowed, balancing on one leg, the other stretched behind
him like a flamingo doing yoga. His expression was deadly serious, as though Olympic
scouts were hiding in the crowd. The children gasped in admiration - or possibly horror -
as he bent his knees, took aim, and hurled the first pie.

It sailed in a perfect arc… directly towards Mrs. Thatcher, the headmistress, who
happened to be striding past at that exact moment with her legendary clipboard. Mrs.
Thatcher was not known for her sense of humour. Her eyebrows had been permanently
set in “disapproval” since 1983. When the pie landed squarely on her head, custard
oozing down her glasses, she blinked once, then twice, like a malfunctioning robot. The
crowd erupted with laughter, while she muttered something about “reconsidering next
year’s entertainment programme.”

Mr. Pickering, oblivious to disaster, attempted a theatrical bow. Unfortunately, he forgot

he was still holding the second pie. His arm swung down; the pie swung up; and within
seconds he was lying flat on his back, covered in cream, with his shoe stuck in what
used to be the lemon meringue table.

The children cheered. Parents fumbled for their phones. And the chaos only escalated.

Freddie Johnson, an ambitious Year 5, grabbed a spare pie and attempted his own
demonstration. Lacking Mr. Pickering’s balance, Freddie spun dramatically on the spot
and launched the pie into the coconut shy. The coconuts toppled, the stallholder
shrieked, and one elderly grandparent took cover under a picnic bench.

Sensing opportunity, other children joined in. Within minutes, custard pies were flying
through the air like seagulls at the seaside. The bouncy castle was no longer bouncy
but slippery, covered in cream. The brass band tried valiantly to continue playing “Rule
Britannia” until the tuba was stuffed with custard and let out a noise like a belching
walrus.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Thatcher, having wiped the majority of dessert from her spectacles,
attempted to restore order with her whistle. The whistle, however, had also been filled
with pie filling, and instead of a sharp blast, it produced a wet, comedic plop. At this,
the crowd screamed with laughter, and even a few teachers were spotted smiling - a
fact that would later be carefully edited from the official school newsletter.

By the end of the afternoon, the staffroom resembled a dessert buffet. Mr. Pickering
was last seen attempting to skate across the custard-smeared floor using two paper
plates as shoes. Mrs. Thatcher, dripping cream and dignity, solemnly announced that
the event would be “reviewed at the next Governors’ meeting.” But history had already
been made. For years to come, people would speak with glee of the day when St.
Bartholomew’s Summer Fair became known simply as The Great Custard Catastrophe.

Comprehension Questions

1. What was the planned highlight of this year’s school fair?

A. Human Wheelbarrow Race
B. Soggy Sponge Soak
C. Custard Pie Throwing Competition
D. Brass Band Performance

2. Who insisted on demonstrating the pie-throwing stance?

A. Freddie Johnson
B. Mrs. Thatcher
C. Mr. Pickering
D. A prefect

3. What happened when Mr. Pickering bowed while holding the second pie?
A. He dropped it safely on the table.
B. He fell backwards into it.
C. He threw it at the crowd.
D. He handed it to Mrs. Thatcher.

4. What did Freddie Johnson accidentally hit with his custard pie?
A. Mrs. Thatcher
B. The brass band
C. The coconut shy
D. The bouncy castle

5. Why might the organisers have thought custard pies were “fool-proof”?

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6. What does the phrase clipboard of doom suggest about Mrs. Thatcher’s
personality?

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7. Why do you think the brass band tried to keep playing despite the chaos?

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8. How do you think Mr. Pickering felt at the end of the day? Use evidence from the
text.

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9. Which of the following is an example of exaggeration from the passage?

A. “Eyebrows permanently set in disapproval since 1983”
B. “Custard pies were simple and safe”
C. “Parents fumbled for their phones”
D. “The crowd erupted with laughter”

10. The author uses surprise to create humour. Explain one moment where the
outcome was unexpected.

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11. Find one example of funny imagery or wordplay. Why is it humorous?

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12. Find a synonym in the text for serious.

A. Deadly
B. Oblivious
C. Ambitious
D. Calm

13. Find an antonym in the text for calm.

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14. Replace the word erupted (line 27) with another suitable synonym.

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15. Identify two adverbs in the text and state which verbs they describe.

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16. Add your own adverb to describe how Mrs. Thatcher blinked after being hit.

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Answer Key

1. C. Custard Pie Throwing Competition

2. C. Mr. Pickering

3. B. He fell backwards into it.

4. C. The coconut shy

5. They thought pies were “fool-proof” because it seemed like a simple, safe game
compared to past dangerous events (like wheelbarrow races or sponge
throwing).

6. Clipboard of doom suggests Mrs. Thatcher is strict, serious, and probably always
looking for faults.

7. The brass band probably wanted to appear professional, keep order, or thought
they should continue the performance despite the chaos.

8. Mr. Pickering likely felt embarrassed but also ridiculous — evidence: he fell in the
pie, ended up skating on plates, and everyone laughed at him.

9. A. “Eyebrows permanently set in disapproval since 1983.” (Exaggeration)

10. Example answer: It was surprising when the pie landed on Mrs. Thatcher instead
of the target. Another surprise was when the whistle made a “plop” sound
instead of blowing properly.

11. Example: “The tuba let out a noise like a belching walrus.” This is funny imagery
because it compares the sound to something silly and unexpected.

12. A. Deadly (from “deadly serious”)

13. Antonym for calm → chaos, erupted, or shrieked (all acceptable from the text).

14. Replace “erupted” → burst, exploded, or broke out (into laughter).

15. Two examples:

• Precariously → describes how pies were “balanced precariously.”

• Obliviously (oblivious to disaster) → describes how Mr. Pickering ignored what

happened.
Other options: “dramatically” (Freddie spun), “valiantly” (band played).

16. Example: She blinked nervously / rapidly / awkwardly / furiously.

Highlighted Text (with answers)

I’ve bolded and coloured ( for explicit answers, for implicit clues, for humour
features, for vocab, for adverbs) so that you can visually trace answers.

The Great Custard Catastrophe

Every year, St. Bartholomew’s School tried to outdo itself at the annual Summer Fair.
One year it had been the Soggy Sponge Soak (in which unfortunate Year 6 prefects
were pelted with damp sponges until they resembled dishcloths). Another year, the
highlight was the Human Wheelbarrow Race — an event swiftly banned after two
parents collided headfirst and had to be peeled apart like stubborn Velcro.

This year, however, the organisers were certain they had struck comedy gold. The main
attraction would be none other than the Custard Pie Throwing Competition. Simple.
Safe. Fool-proof. At least, that was the theory.

Mr. Pickering, the PE teacher, insisted that a custard pie could not be treated like a
common Frisbee. It required discipline, posture, and athletic finesse. To prove the point,
he mounted the stage in front of the school hall, custard pies balanced precariously
on both hands like he was auditioning for Cirque du Soleil.

“Observe the stance!” he bellowed, balancing on one leg, the other stretched behind
him like a flamingo doing yoga. His expression was deadly serious ( synonym for
serious), as though Olympic scouts were hiding in the crowd. The children gasped in
admiration — or possibly horror — as he bent his knees, took aim, and hurled the first
pie.

It sailed in a perfect arc… directly towards Mrs. Thatcher, the headmistress, who
happened to be striding past at that exact moment with her legendary clipboard of
doom. Mrs. Thatcher was not known for her sense of humour. Her eyebrows had
been permanently set in disapproval since 1983 (exaggeration). When the pie landed
squarely on her head, custard oozing down her glasses, she blinked once, then twice,
awkwardly, like a malfunctioning robot. The crowd erupted ( synonym task)
with laughter, while she muttered something about “reconsidering next year’s
entertainment programme.”

Mr. Pickering, oblivious to disaster, attempted a theatrical bow. Unfortunately, he

forgot he was still holding the second pie. His arm swung down; the pie swung up; and
within seconds he was lying flat on his back, covered in cream (explicit bow
answer), with his shoe stuck in what used to be the lemon meringue table.

Freddie Johnson, an ambitious Year 5, grabbed a spare pie and attempted his own
demonstration. Lacking Mr. Pickering’s balance, Freddie spun dramatically on the
spot and launched the pie into the coconut shy. The coconuts toppled, the
stallholder shrieked, and one elderly grandparent took cover under a picnic bench.

Sensing opportunity, other children joined in. Within minutes, custard pies were flying
through the air like seagulls at the seaside. The bouncy castle was no longer bouncy
but slippery, covered in cream. The brass band tried valiantly to continue playing “Rule
Britannia” until the tuba was stuffed with custard and let out a noise like a belching
walrus (funny imagery).

Meanwhile, Mrs. Thatcher, having wiped the majority of dessert from her spectacles,
attempted to restore order with her whistle. The whistle, however, had also been filled
with pie filling, and instead of a sharp blast, it produced a wet, comedic plop
(surprise humour).

By the end of the afternoon, the staffroom resembled a dessert buffet. Mr. Pickering
was last seen attempting to skate across the custard-smeared floor using two paper
plates as shoes. Mrs. Thatcher, dripping cream and dignity, solemnly announced that
the event would be “reviewed at the next Governors’ meeting.” But history had already
been made. For years to come, people would speak with glee of the day when St.
Bartholomew’s Summer Fair became known simply as The Great Custard Catastrophe.