A new classic from the world of Roald Dahl! NOW STREAMING ON NETFLIX: Don’t miss the animated film The Twits, features the voices of Johnny Vegas, Margot Martindale, Emilia Clarke, and Natalie Portman and music by David Byrne and Hayley Williams! When a moving van arrives next door to the Twits and Mr. and Mrs. Lovely get out, that’s bad enough. But it gets WORSE. . . Their two Lovely children, Ruff and Tumble, have moved in next door too. And the Twits HATE children. (Sorry if you are one. We don’t hate you, just to be clear.) The Twits decide the Lovelies MUST go. Even if it means some serious plotting, which involves: a hungry tiger, GIANT catapults, and LOTS of disgusting dog hair. Will the horrible pair succeed in their dastardly plan? Or can the Lovelies out-trick the terrible Twits? "The Twits rise again, as revolting as ever, to play and be the victims of further gooey, gluey pranks . . . Delivers entertaining hijinks and fresh Twittery." --Kirkus Reviews As well as writing the bestselling Kid Normal series and the brilliant adventures The Great Dream Robbery and Super Ghost with Chris Smith, Greg James is the host of the Radio 1 Breakfast Show, the cricket-based podcast Tailenders , and Radio 4’s Rewinder . Basically he’s turned all his favorite things into work and now has no hobbies. Greg lives in north London with his wife, Bella, and his dog, Barney, who is staring at him impatiently because he wants to go for a walk. Chris Smith is the author of loads of lovely books, including the award-winning, bestselling Kid Normal series, which he co-wrote with Greg James. He’s also a former champion bell ringer—seriously—and a number one recording artist (kind of). As well as his books with Greg, Chris writes books on his own, including the fabulous fantasy adventure Frankie Best Hates Quests . Before he was an author, Chris worked as a newsreader and presenter on radio stations including Xfm and BBC Radio 1. His most famous news bulletin is probably the one sampled by George Michael in 1998 and used on his international hit “Outside.” Roald Dahl is one of the world’s best and most original storytellers with over 300 million books sold, translated into 68 languages. Deeply funny and deliciously dark, his timeless stories are beloved by kids and adults alike and have introduced generations of kids to the joys of reading and the imagination. CHAPTER ONE MRS. TWIT FILLS THE TOILET WITH WASPS Imagine what it must be like living next door to a pair of total twits. What if you were unlucky enough to have NOISY twits as neighbors? The sort of people who play the trombone incredibly badly until four o’clock in the morning, or decide to start drilling into the walls while you’re trying to have a lie-in? Or imagine living next door to NOSY twits, who peer at you over the garden fence, or peep in through your windows while you’re eating your tea. What if some really MESSY twits moved in next door and filled their house with rubbish and their garden with rusty old cars? Worse still, what if you lived next door to some SMELLY twits? Or some MEAN twits? Or some completely HORRIBLE twits, who are mean to your cat, or jump out at you from behind the garden fence dressed as clowns for no good reason? All these are foul in their own way. But what if you were to end up living next door to a pair of twits who are  NOISY,   NOSY,       MESSY,            SMELLY ,                  MEAN and                  HORRIBLE? Do such appalling people really exist? Well, sadly, yes, they do. Their names are Mr. and Mrs. Twit and here they come now.  Brace yourselves. Mr. Twit has a face like a warthog’s hairy armpit and a personality to match. There are many disgusting things about him, all the way from his dirty feet up to the hair on his head, which looks like the nest of the world’s least house-proud bird. But the most disgusting thing about Mr. Twit is his beard. It is as stiff and bristly as an old boot brush. And—­even worse—­ it’s full of the tiny morsels of food that miss Mr. Twit’s mouth as he eats his loathsome lunch or his sloppy supper. Clumps of curdled custard and puddles of putrid porridge nestle deep among the stubbly whiskers. And if he fancies a quick snack in between meals, Mr. Twit simply sticks out his slimy tongue and sends it snaking through the beardy undergrowth in search of a tasty treat. That’s enough about that for now. It’s too revolting to think about for more than a few seconds without getting a cramp in your brain. But there’s more. You heard us mention dirty FEEt a moment ago. Speaking of those, let’s take a look at Mrs. Twit. Mrs. Twit is a foul, screeching bundle of pure hideousness. She has a face like a scrunched-up elbow and her dress looks like a sack that fell on hard times sometime in the late eighteenth century. If you ever caught sight of her toenails, you would run home screaming for your mommy no matter