he paused for just a couple of seconds and took several deep breaths.
The Trunchbull stood with hands on hips, glaring at him. “Get on with it!” she shouted. “Eat it up!”
Suddenly the boy let out a gigantic belch which rolled around the Assembly Hall like thunder. Many of the audience began to giggle.
“Silence!” shouted the Trunchbull. The boy cut himself another thick slice and started eating it fast.
There were still no signs of flagging or giving up.
He certainly did not look as though he was about to stop and cry out, “I can't, I can't eat any more!
I'm going to be sick!” He was still in there running.
And now a subtle change was coming over the two hundred and fifty watching children in the audience. Earlier on, they had sensed impending disaster.
They had prepared themselves for an unpleasant scene in which the wretched boy, stuffed to the gills with chocolate cake, would have to surrender
and beg for mercy and then they would have watched the triumphant Trunchbull forcing more and still more cake into the mouth of the gasping boy.
Not a bit of it. Bruce Bogtrotter was three-quarters of the way through and still going strong.
One sensed that he was almost beginning to enjoy himself.
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