"Putting the King's bicycle together"
Some weeks later the Doctor received this letter from a farmer in Lincolnshire:
"Dear Sir: Thank you for your excellent weather reports. By their help I managed to raise the finest crop of Brussels sprouts this year ever seen in Lincolnshire. But the night before I was going to pick them for market they disappeared from my fields—every blessed one of them. How, I don't know. Maybe you could give me some advice about this.
"Your obedient servant,
"Nicholas Scroggins."
"Great heavens!" said the Doctor: "I wonder what happened to them."
"Gub-Gub ate them," said Too-Too. "Those are the sprouts, no doubt, that the thrushes brought here."