A/N Not sure how good I am at writing James, but I don't try to make anyone OOC here or anywhere. I omit the title and opt for episode numbers because my country's title's aren't universal, always.

Hey, it's me, James and I'm telling about when I got dirty one time. I quite dislike being dirty.

Toby and Henrietta were enjoying their new jobs on the Island of Sodor, but they did look old-fashioned and did need new paint.

I was very rude whenever I saw them. "Yecch! What dirty objects!" I would say.

At last Toby lost patience. "James" he asked "why are you red?"

"I am a splendid engine," I answered, "ready for anything. You never see my paint dirty."

"Oh!" said Toby innocently, "that's why you once needed bootlaces-to be ready, I suppose.

I went redder than ever and snorted off. It was an insult to be reminded of the time a bootlace had been used to mend a hole in my coaches. One of our friends had told him about that, I thought.

At the end of the line, I left my coaches and got ready for my next train. It was a "slow freight," stopping at every station to pick up and set down cars.

I hated slow freight trains. I just preferred to pull coaches, even as a mixed-traffic engine. "Dirty cars from dirty sidings! Yecch!"

Starting with only a few, I picked up more and more cars at each station until I had a long train.

At first, the freight cars behaved well, but I bumped them so crossly that they were determined to get back at me.

Presently, we approached to top of Gordon's freight trains halt here to set their brakes. I had had and accident with cars before and should have remembered this.

"Wait, James, wait," said Driver, but I wouldn't wait. I was too busy thinking about what I would say to Toby when we met next.

The freight cars' chance had come.

"Hurrah! Hurrah!" they laughed, and banging their buffers, they pushed me down the hill.

"On! On!' yelled the car.

"I've got to stop. I've got to stop," I groaned.

Disaster lay ahead.

Something sticky splashed all over me. I had run into to two tar wagons and was black from smokebox to cab. I was more dirty than hurt, but the tar wagons and some cars were all to pieces

Toby and Percy were sent to help and came as quickly as they could.

"Look here, Percy!" exclaimed Toby. Whatever is that dirty object?"

"That's James. Didn't you know?"

"It's James's shape," said Toby, but James is a splendid red engine and you nevvr see his paint dirty."

I pretended I hadn't heard. It was no fun for me to be dealing with being dirty.

Toby and Percy cleared away the unhurt cars and helped me home.

Sir Topham Hat met us.

"Well done, Percy and Toby." He turned to me. "Fancy letting your cars run away. I am surprised. You're not fit to be seen; you must be cleaned at once. Toby shall have a new coat of paint."

"Please, sir, can Henrietta have one too?" said Toby.

"Certainly, Toby."

"Oh, thank you sir! She will be pleased.

All I could do was watch Toby as he ran off happily with the news.

Ever since my first accident on Sodor, I disliked the Troublesome Trucks and being dirty.