The Porridge of Knowledge

"Magic gloop, evil baddies and a ridiculous amount of food abound in this super-silly story"
The Porridge of Knowledge – picture

Magic gloop, evil baddies and a ridiculous amount of food abound in this super-silly story

Milk lives in the grubby seaside town of Slopp-on-Sea – a rubbish name for a rubbish town. But Milk’s life is pretty rubbish too, so it fits. She loves her Granddad, but nowadays he’s always wandering off somewhere, or asking her befuddled questions. Then one day, he comes back from one of his jaunts with a battered book in his hand containing a recipe for THE PORRIDGE OF KNOWLEDGE.

Intrigued, Milk enlists the help of her friend Carp to try the recipe. At first it looks like all they’ve managed to create is a lump of malodorous goo – but then they notice the ants (who have been nibbling the porridge) building a mashed potato replica of the leaning tower of Pisa… So they decide to try it out on themselves. And the results are incredible! Suddenly Milk and Carp are the cleverest people in town – and Granddad is back to his normal self. Milk and Carp are about to discover that sometimes a little bit of knowledge goes a long way…

Publication Date:
ISBN Paperback: 9781471402807
ISBN Ebook: 9781471402814



Archie Kimpton

Ever since reading 'sodium monofluorophosphate' on the side of a toothpaste tube, Archie Kimpton has always enjoyed putting words together and seeing what comes out. He graduated from Manchester University in 1991 and has spent the last twenty years in preparation for this moment, flogging salami, script writing, book binding and care working in the interim. JUMBLECAT is his first novel. He lives in south London with his wife, kids and Doonican, the diabetic cat and sometime inspiration for his animal cruelty based stories (only joking, Dooni). Follow Archie at or on Twitter: @ArchieKimpton


'Milk! Wake up. Look!' Jarvis was on his feet, pointing towards the cows. 'Something's happening.' Milk opened her eyes and sat up. Of the eight cows, five were shuddering, shaking like leaves. And then the strangeness began. One by one, the five cows sat down on their rumps, in a circle, facing each other, with their hind legs sticking out in front of them. 'What are they doing?' asked Milk, rubbing her eyes. For a moment the cows just sat there, as if they were about to discuss important cow business (udder hygiene, cowpat disposal, etc.) - until, following Daisy's lead, they began twitching their heads, just enough to ring the cowbells tied around their necks. Straight away, Jarvis realised what the cows were doing. 'They're copying the church bells!' he said excitedly. 'They must hear them all the time. Listen.' He was right. The cows were ringing their cowbells perfectly in time with the sound of the Slopp church bells. 'It's the porridge,' squealed Milk, clapping her hands together. 'It must be! It's working!' But that wasn't the last of it. As the day drifted by, Jarvis and Milk watched, enthralled, as the cows performed a series of remarkable feats. They played hoofball, kicking the Tupperware container up and down the field, using freshly made cowpats as goalposts. They dabbled in acrobatics, including a most impressive five-cow pyramid, and to top it all, they drew caveman-style mud paintings on the side of their water trough, using their tails as paintbrushes. And then it was over. With a tiny shudder, they became normal, everyday drooling cows once again. The effect of the porridge had worn off. Flushed with success (and the late-evening sun), Milk and Jarvis headed home.