Book five in Andrew's mission to convert reluctant readers to potty poetry fans. If you're one of Andrew's successes, write in and let us know.

About this book...

Who Flushed Granny Down the Toilet? is one of those questions that you don't really expect an answer to. Not until Gran returns from her involuntary swim with the pongy eels in the main sewer, of course. Then she can tell you. But can she also tell you who put the bogies up your nose? No she can't, only Andrew Collett knows the answer to that one!

Yes, it's true: the man who brought you the delights of Dad's Exploding Underpants and Electric Knickers, not to mention Bottling Burps for Grandma and Always Eat Your Bogies, has been scribbling away once more, and come up with this new collection of rib-tickling, snotty stanzas, in the Potty Poets series.

If you want to know about what we did before toilets were invented, or to meet the family who live in a bed, visit the Planet Bog, or look down The Back of Our Settee ("Insects too, mostly dead/and earwax from Grandad's head/ underpants and a big fat flea/Were all I found, down our settee!") then this is the Andrew Collett book for you.

Poems such as Dad Wears Curlers and Our Robotic Teacher are right in the middle of the mainstream territory which Andrew has inhabited so well ever since his first book stormed the barricades in 1998. Sweaty Betty and Our Teacher Ate a Cow Pat carry the stamp of Andrew authenticity, as do Sneeze on Toast, Mould, and Doggy Loo. In Esmond, he celebrates his Dad's DIY "skills", and in Snog the Bog, he chronicles what happens when Dad mistakes the loo for Mum.

Andrew Collett's world is a strange one, full of teachers in love, teachers in pyjamas, cow pats and notes for avoiding PE. A world that captures both the authentic language of the playground and the delights of Grandma's Mouldy Teeth. Andrew's many fans will not be disappointed. The delights of Toilet Fishing and the zany surrealism of Dad's Two Brains alone would be enough to put this book up where it belongs in the canon of Andrew's work for the Potty Poets.

It's a toe tapping, poetry-rapping, thigh slapping slime-athon, full of bowels that are lax and earwax attacks. Typical Andrew in fact, and just in time to be a crusty Christmas present!