‘You mean people are actually going to be allowed to go inside the factory?’ cried Grandpa Joe. ‘Read us what it says – quickly!’
‘All right,’ said Mr Bucket, smoothing out the newspaper. ‘Listen.’
Mr Willy Wonka, the confectionery genius whom nobody has seen for the last tenyears, sent out the following notice today:
‘The man’s dotty!’ muttered Grandma Josephine.
‘He’s brilliant!’ cried Grandpa Joe. ‘He’s a magician! Just imagine what will happen now! The whole world will be searching for those Golden Tickets! Everyone will be buying Wonka’s chocolate bars in the hope of finding one! He’ll sell more than ever before! Oh, how exciting it would be to find one!’
‘And all the chocolate and sweets that you could eat for the rest of your life – free!’ said Grandpa George. ‘Just imagine that!’
‘They’d have to deliver them in a truck!’ said Grandma Georgina.
‘It makes me quite ill to think of it,’ said Grandma Josephine.
‘Nonsense!’ cried Grandpa Joe. ‘Wouldn’t it be something, Charlie, to open a bar of chocolate and see a Golden Ticket glistening inside!’
‘It certainly would, Grandpa. But there isn’t a hope,’ Charlie said sadly. ‘I only get one bar a year.’
‘You never know, darling,’ said Grandma Georgina. ‘It’s your birthday next week. You have as much chance as anybody else.’
‘I’m afraid that simply isn’t true,’ said Grandpa George. ‘The kids who are going to find the Golden Tickets are the ones who can afford to buy bars of chocolate every day. Our Charlie gets only one a year. There isn’t a hope.’