He tickled the greengrocer just as he was piling apples neatly in his shop window.
The greengrocer fell over backwards, and the apples rolled all over the shop.
At the railway station, the guard was about to wave his flag for the train to leave.
As he lifted his arm in the air, Mr Tickle tickled him.
And every time he tried to wave his flag, Mr Tickle tickled him until the train was ten minutes late leaving the station and all the passengers were furious.
That day Mr Tickle tickled everybody.
He tickled the doctor.
He tickled the butcher.
He even tickled old Mr Stamp, the postman, who dropped all his letters into a puddle.
Then Mr Tickle went home.
Sitting in his armchair in his small house at the other side of the wood, he laughed and laughed every time he thought about all the people he had tickled.
So, if you are in any way ticklish, beware of Mr Tickle and those extraordinary long arms of his.
Just think. Perhaps he’s somewhere about at this very moment while you’re reading this book.
Perhaps that extraordinary long arm of his is already creeping up to the door of this room.
Perhaps, before you know what is happening, you will be well and truly . . .
. . . tickled!