My family is just like everyone else’s. We live in a cave and cook on an open fire. We wear clothes made of animal skins and most evenings we eat mammoth for dinner.

 

I might have forgotten to mention that we live in the Stone Age.

 

When I say we’re normal that isn’t completely true. Me and my brother Chukka are normal, and so is Mum. But Dad is a Neanderthal.

 

Neanderthals are very similar to other people, except that they are bigger and stronger and like to lumber about rather than walk like humans do.

 

It’s fun having a Neanderthal for a Dad. He can throw us high in the air, and even juggle with us. And he enjoys dressing up as a woolly mammoth and taking us for rides on his back. Though he didn’t like it when Chukka got carried away and speared him in the butt.

 

He’s also good at hunting real mammoth, though he has to sneak out to do it.

 

You see, hunting mammoth is going out of fashion. We live in a place called Cave Town and the local council has a thing called the Department of Evolution. The Department of Evolution reckons that hunting mammoth is ‘primitive’ and that we should start eating the new funny-looking animals called ‘cows’, ‘pigs’, and ‘sheep’.

 

The other reason Dad has to sneak about is because the Department of Evolution doesn’t like Neanderthals. They think Neanderthals are primitive and they don’t like humans marrying them. For that reason, Dad has to spend much of his time lurking around at home, keeping out of sight.

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The other day, Chukka saw a man coming up the path towards the mouth of our cave. He was wearing a very neat deer-skin suit and on his feet were these things called ‘shoes’, which are becoming popular. He also had very short hair – that only came down to his shoulders.

 

My brother immediately recognised him.

 

‘Mum, Dad!’ he yelled. ‘It’s Inspector Stone from the Department of Evolution.’

 

As soon as Dad heard that, he lumbered to the back of the cave, crouched down in a corner and put a few books on his back. He was pretending to be a bookcase.

 

Inspector Stone arrived at the mouth of the cave where Mum greeted him with a cheery smile.

 

‘Morning, Inspector Stone,’ she said. ‘What a lovely day.’

 

‘Good morning, Mrs Stone,’ said Inspector Stone.

 

‘Have you ever wondered,’ said Mum. ‘Why everyone in Cave Town has Stone as a surname. I mean, I know it’s the Stone Age but there’s really no point in having a surname if it’s the same as everyone else’s.’

 

‘That’s a ridiculous thing to say, Mrs Stone,’ said Inspector Stone who was, I’m afraid, a bit of a silly man.

 

‘Of course,’ smiled Mum patiently. ‘And what can I do for you, Inspector Stone?’

 

‘I have heard reports that there is a Neanderthal living in this cave.’

 

‘A Neanderthal!’ said Mum, pretending to be shocked. ‘Here?’

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‘That’s what I’ve been told. The department does not approve of Neanderthals, Mrs Stone. They’re yesterday’s people. We need to look to the future. We need to think about what’s best for humanity. That’s why we’re thinking of banning marriages between normal people and Neanderthals. We may even send them away to live somewhere else.’

 

‘That’s crazy!’ I screamed at him. ‘Neanderthals can’t help being Neanderthals. Why are you picking on them? You’re a bully. And there’s nothing wrong with them anyway. They’re better at us than most things. You should be ashamed of yourself!’

 

There was a bit of a silence after this. Mum and Inspector Stone were staring at me. Then Mum said: ‘Anyway, Inspector Stone, there’s no Neanderthal living here.’

 

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ said Inspector Stone, marching into the cave and snooping around. Happily, Inspector Stone was not only a bit stupid, he wasn’t very observant. He didn’t notice Dad pretending to be a bookcase. Unfortunately, there were a few tell-tale signs that Dad lived among us that even Inspector Stone couldn’t miss.

 

‘I think there’s a Neanderthal living here,’ he said.

 

‘What makes you say that?’ said Mum.

 

‘Well, one of the chairs at your table is enormous, for a start,’ said Inspector Stone. ‘Also, there’s a smashed-up doll’s chair over there that’s clearly been sat on by someone very big indeed. Plus there’s the giant caveman outfit made from the skin of a sabre-tooth tiger hanging on the wall. There’s a giant club that looks like it’s ideal for killing mammoths, which normal people don’t do anymore. Also, there are some marks on the floor which look like someone’s been dragging their knuckles. Plus there’s a rugby ball and as everyone knows all rugby players are Neanderthals.’

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‘I don’t think that’s true,’ said Mum patiently.

 

‘Where is your husband, Mrs Stone?’

 

‘He’s out,’ said Mum. ‘Being mean to Neanderthals.’

 

‘Oh, well that’s alright then,’ said Inspector Stone. ‘I’ll trouble you no more.’

 

And with that he trotted out of the cave and went off to bother someone else.

 

‘One day they’re going to hire inspectors who are smart,’ I said. ‘Then what do we do?’

 

Dad took the books off his back and stood up. ‘You know,’ he said. ‘None of you should have to lie about me. I’m proud to be a Neanderthal and we should all be proud too.’

 

‘We are proud, Dad,’ I said. ‘After all, me and Chukka are half Neanderthal. Though we don’t really look it.’

 

‘The problem is,’ said Mum. ‘You might be sent away with all the other Neanderthals in Cave Town.’

 

‘We need to show everyone that there’s nothing wrong with being a Neanderthal,’ said Dad. ‘And that the government and everyone else needs to accept us.’

 

Then I had a brilliant idea. ‘We should have a Neanderthal Jamboree!’ I announced.

 

‘What’s a jamboree?’ asked Chukka looking jealous because he hadn’t thought of it.

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‘It’s like a festival or a fete or something,’ I said. ‘We’d have Neanderthals doing lots of things that Neanderthals are good at and everyone would see what they have to offer.’

 

Mum and Dad thought it was a good idea too. In fact, that night Dad took me and Chukka along to a secret Neanderthal meeting on top of a hill overlooking Cave Town. There were about 100 Neanderthals there and they were all sitting around a roaring bonfire, laughing, singing and eating mammoth off the bone.

 

But as soon as we arrived, everyone stopped what they were doing, stood up and looked at Dad. For though he was very modest about it, Dad was King of the Neanderthals.

 

Dad showed Chukka and me where to sit on a nearby log. Then he strode to the centre of the circle and with his back to the fire he gestured to everyone to sit down. He then said this:

 

‘My fellow Neanderthals. Thank you all for coming. As you know, these are dark times. The Cave Town Council is thinking about breaking up our marriages and sending us away.’

 

The other Neanderthals made loud grumbling noises and yelled ‘boo’ and so on.

 

‘Yes, yes,’ said Dad. ‘Something needs to be done.’

 

Then a truly enormous Neanderthal stood up. His name was Grut and he had a very fierce expression on his face. ‘We must rise up and crush them!’ yelled Grut. ‘They are a puny people with spindly arms and legs. We are a mighty people. It is we who should be in charge. It is we who should send them away!’

 

This met with cheers and clapping.

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Dad stood there in silence, frowning with his arms folded, waiting for everyone to calm down. Even after people had stopped all their carry-on and were looking at him once again, he remained silent.

 

Just when the silence was becoming unbearable, Dad began speaking in a low voice.

 

‘There will be no rising up, no crushing,’ he said. ‘Instead we shall live with the others in peace and harmony. We are all people, after all, whether we are large and hefty, or small and puny.’

 

‘But how?!’ yelled Grut.

 

‘By holding a Neanderthal Jamboree,’ announced Dad, pointing at me. ‘My daughter thought of it.’

 

Everyone turned and stared at me. I blushed scarlet.

 

‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ said a lady Neanderthal named Gomp. ‘I’ll slay a mammoth right there in front of them and feed the whole town.’

 

A man then stood up and said: ‘I’ll do my Neanderthal ballet, Stone Lake.’

 

Another man stood up and said: ‘Yes, and we can have a rugby match.’

 

‘No!’ said Dad. ‘They already know we can do that.’

 

Everyone groaned. Neanderthals like rugby a lot.

 

‘Everyone will do something they’re good at, and we’ll invite the whole town to take part,’ said Dad. ‘It will take place next Saturday. We’ll have to do it that soon so the Department of Evolution doesn’t have time to stop us.’

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The following week was very busy. All the Neanderthals were working on their performances. Our family organised a lot of things, like putting up posters, finding chairs and a stage, and organising food. Mum went to everyone’s house and invited them personally. Not everyone was enthusiastic but most people said they’d come.

 

And come they did. On the big day there were hundreds of people milling around. The jamboree was held in the big square in the middle of Cave Town. Pretty much every Neanderthal was involved. Some did ballet or knitting. Others did talks on cave renovating. One bloke called Frug showed everyone how to invent the wheel, which hadn’t been done before.

 

Another Neanderthal demonstrated writing, which was also completely new. He set up a desk and using stone paper simply wrote down any old garbage that came into his mind then handed it around expecting people to read it. His name was Blog.

 

Dad did a cooking demonstration called NeanderChef. This was wildly popular because up until then people just sort of burnt their meat over a fire and it tasted awful. But Dad showed them how to make things like mammoth pie and sabre-tooth tart. He also came up with a way to lose weight called the Palaeo diet, which basically involved stewing small pebbles then eating them. Actually, that wasn’t very popular.

 

Things were going really well and everyone was in a very accepting mood when Inspector Stone turned up. He jumped up onto the stage where a Neanderthal play called The Stone Menagerie was being performed. Then he started yelling at everyone.

 

‘Be quiet, be quiet!’ he shouted. ‘I am Inspector Stone of the Department of Evolution. You must stop this madness at once. Everyone should go home. You’re all having far too much fun and being far too accepting. Look at these Neanderthals. They’re not like us. You shouldn’t marry them. One of us marrying a Neanderthal is like a sheep marrying a cow or a mammoth marrying a …um.’

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‘Another mammoth?’ I yelled out.

 

‘Exactly,’ said Inspector Stone. ‘What? No! You don’t understand at all. Neanderthals must go. We’ve got to evolve. Don’t you all want to be human? Neanderthals are just holding us back!’

 

When he had finished his little rant there was a bit of a stunned silence. I then decided it was my turn to get up there. So I jumped onto the stage and gave Inspector Stone my meanest Neanderthal growl. Kind of surprisingly, he cowered in fright.

 

I turned to the crowd. ‘I’m half Neanderthal and I’m completely proud of it,’ I said. ‘Inspector Stone says that Neanderthals are the past but I reckon people like him are the past. He wants us to become human. Perhaps having Neanderthals amongst us is what will make us human. Perhaps we need Neanderthals. After all, it’s they who invented the wheel. It’s they who know how to cook and can do ballet, write blogs and play rugby. Where will we be in a hundred thousand years without those things?’

 

I could hear people murmuring in agreement so I felt bold enough to carry on.

 

‘And even if those things weren’t true, what kind of people would we be if we turned another group away or stopped two kinds of people from getting married?’

 

‘Hear, hear,’ said someone.

 

‘So I suggest we do away with idiots like Inspector Stone, and his silly department as well.’

 

This met with loud cheering, mainly from the Neanderthals but also other people as well. Two beefy Neanderthals helped Inspector Stone off the stage. Then one of them carried me on his shoulders all around the jamboree. Everyone cheered. Well, quite a few people …

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A few weeks later the Department of Evolution was closed down and the council created the Department of Acceptance instead. And who was asked to head it up? Why Dad, of course.

 

And if you’re wondering why you’re not weak and spindly and why your parents can cook, blog and renovate, then perhaps you have him to thank. And yes, you’re absolutely right, me as well.

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