Klatterlings: Similar to Bogberts, but redder and fightier, and they live in holes.
Centaurs: If the Centaurs had not remained neutral in the war, it might have gone very differently indeed. Horses with the top halves of extremely muscular humans in place of their necks,[30] they are preposterously strong, fiercely loyal and stuck in a state of constant low-level fury due to the unfortunate biomechanics of their digestive systems.
3. PLANNING YOUR TRIP
When to visit
Most Mundane festivals are drab, patriotic affairs designed to drum up threadbare merriment in a population beaten down by post-war austerity. But for the people of Whimsicalia, every day is magical: since the Wizarde calendar is scheduled along vaguely pagan lines, there’s almost always an excuse for a lavish party due to the position of the moon or the stars or whatever. Even so, there’s one party whose pleasures simply can’t be overegged.
The Grunche World Cup
Every four years at Whooshbury Stadium, teams and fans gather from all over the world (dressed in wildly camp magical exaggerations of national dress, naturally) to really Grunche it up. There are fireworks in the sky and on the pitch, as romance and rivalry flares between one-dimensional teenage sport gods. Non-magical tourists are permitted to attend, but given the prevalence of jolly terrace chants about killing all Mundanes, it’s worth having a thick skin.
Getting Around
Travel links around Albionus for Mundanes comprise predictably sensible modes of transport – cars, trains and the like. Getting about in Whimsicalia, by contrast, gets far more exotic. Since the dawn of magic, Wizardes have been finding ways to accomplish dull tasks with zero effort, and transport is no exception. Portals can be opened from place to place (within magical enclaves) for a reasonable sum, while more hearty travellers might try renting flying cauldrons[31] or more esoteric enchanted vessels such as bathtubs and refuse skips. Oh, and don’t ask if you can ride a Centaur, as they will make such a fuss.[32]
THE RULES OF GRUNCHE
Each team has nine players – three Drangles, two Snicklers, two Billybiffs, a Tanglebob and a Bamboozler – seated in enchanted flying cauldrons.
In play are an assortment of balls, hoops and skittles too numerous to list, as well as a crate of flying, downy-feathered frogs called Flitcroaks. Some of the balls appear to be sentient. Sometimes there’s a flying hammer that swears at people before cracking them across the temples. But sometimes there isn’t. Either way, fear of the Winged Hammer appears to be a major element of the game.
As far as can be discerned, most of the game’s scoring system is concerned with the Drangles manoeuvring the various implements of play into crucial areas, or through the assortment of hoops and brackets affixed to the stadium walls. The Drangles tend to accumulate between fifty and a hundred points per match this way.
Opposing them in these endeavours are the opposing team’s Billybiffs (armed with fist-sized wooden lumps on the end of ropes) and the Tanglebob (who has a net and a crossbow).
While all this is happening, the two pairs of Snicklers compete to capture as many Flitcroaks as they can, with each one being worth a trillion points.
It’s not certain what the Bamboozler’s job actually is, but it seems to involve drugs. It doesn’t really matter since, like every other player besides the Snicklers, they are just part of an elaborate sideshow that takes place as four people frantically search for frogs.
Floyd’s Tip
If you want to travel by portal without paying the fees, there are ways – but they come with risks. Not all of the secret portals used by guerrilla fighters were closed up after the war, and many connection points remain hidden in plain sight. Seriously intrepid travellers may choose to use them, but must remember that many are set with gruesome magical traps that can swap your hands and your feet, turn your blood to porridge, or make a live squid materialise in your trachea.[33]
Eating and Drinking
Mundania is developing a decent fine-dining culture now rationing is coming to an end, but it will never hold a candle to the epicurean delights of Whimsicalia. Thanks to the dizzying range of ingredients native to magical Albionus, the limitless culinary techniques presented by the use of magic and the sheer flamboyant inventiveness of the Wizardes, Whimsicalia’s food is some of the finest in all the Worlds.[34] Mundania also boasts a sumptuous range of drinking options, from Salamander Shandy and blue Mungleberry Wine to Brattleperk’s Singing Ale[35] and the narcotic known as Bafflejuice. Wizarde-brewed alcohol seems to offer all the benefits of regular booze with none of the downsides. There are no hangovers, boorish behaviour or slow descent into an endless nightmare of terrible decisions and poor health. As such, it’s extremely popular with children as well as adults.
WHIMSICALIA’S
BEST BARS and RESTAURANTS
The Talking Hat at Chumbleton: This famed Wizarde inn and gastropub favours dishes made with faintly spooky ingredients. Pumpkins and toadstools are perennial favourites, while tourists with an open mind will be delighted by its ‘swamp wings’ – toad legs, fried and served with hot sauce that makes your nose glow like a pink LED.
The Flattened Toadstool: At Chumbleton’s edges, there are seedier establishments – at the Toadstool, rebellious Greeblewhoz truants share cheap bunglebean juice just tables away from the Bogberts who toil happily to serve them at the Academy, and it’s rowdy without being threatening. More dimly lit establishments play host to gatherings where tourists are not welcome, however, while Centaurs and other forest creatures loiter with tins of cheap greaselager on street corners on the outskirts of town. Don’t go there.
Mama Owlbrows’ Teahouse: Charming cottage teahouse and youth hostel just inside the Enchanted Forest, where enterprising witch[36] Jay Owlbrows serves tea and
