The BFG shook his head so hard that the breeze from his ears sent grandmamma flying.
“Most totally unpossible,” he said as he picked her up and popped her into his waistcoat pocket. “My dreams is for tiddly childers. They is not for oldy human beans with prunefuls of winkles and goldilocks as grey as bodgers’ bottoms.”
“Please,” she coaxed. “Just one phizzwizard for a box of peaches and a real live elephant.”
“You is tempting me,” said the BFG, “but no promises and no kiddling. I wants to see peaches and elefunts before I decides if they’s worth it.”
Read the feature story ‘Writing about the BFG’