There was a sickening flash of lightning and a deafening roll of thunder, rain lashed down like iron pellets, the sky darkened to an inky black, the ground quaked, and lo! it was Tuesday!



Tuesday looked around. He was standing under a tree in a large field. The tree wasn't really big enough to keep him dry but it was the only one. The rain pelted down as if it was a Bank Holiday. In fact, it probably was. Tuesday decided to go and ask uncle Hilbert, and trotted off down the field, getting soaking wet.

Hilbert the Horse was a very wise old horse who had raised Tuesday. He always knew what day it was, because he had a Rolex watch. Tuesday wished he had one too, because some days he felt very strange. As he trotted along the lane towards Hilbert's stable, he sang a song (from the days before animals' lib) that the old horse had taught him:


I'm a horse, I'm a horse
Of course I'm a horse
I don't know how
To moo like a cow
Or live like a grouse in the gorse.

I'm a horse, I'm a horse
Though it sounds rather coarse
To eat grass and hay
And carrots, but nay,
I'd much prefer lamb and mint sauce.

I'm a horse, I'm a horse
I pull carts with great force
You can ride on my back
If you leave the reins slack
And drop spurs in favour of morse!

I'm a horse, I'm a horse
Of course I'm a horse

But Tuesday knew he was not a horse.
He had now reached Hilbert's stable, so he looked at his reflection in the porch mirror. He looked like...



... a Shetland pony. However, there was something a little strange about him. Possibly it was the fact that he was a sort of bluey-white (the sort that telly housewives are always getting their washing with new Non-Biodegrading-Cock-Up- The-Environment-Super-Cleano) which had caused the other ponies to make fun of him when he was younger. Eventually, he'd made enough trouble that he'd been put in a field with old Hilbert (who, as it happened was colourblind anyway), since when he'd had lots of time to himself to wonder why things were the way they were. Hilbert had always been there with advice, and sometimes Tuesday had even understood what he'd said.

Tuesday nosed the stable door open, and went in. Hilbert was standing in the corner, contemplating his hay. He looked up as Tuesday entered, and said, `Oh, there you are. I've decided it's time to tell you who you really are.' Tuesday thought about this for a minute or two.
`So who am I, then?' he asked.
`It is a very long tale,' said Hilbert, `and it begins many years ago, in the northern areas of this island.'

And Hilbert told Tuesday about the wild chieftains of the north, and how terrible was their might in battle, and how the only things wilder than the chieftains were their daughters, who would always get their own way, on pain of holding their breath until they turned red in the face, or of screaming in a particularly piercing way. And the horses of the area were of two sorts. One sort was the ordinary Shetland pony, which was good natured, and the other sort was the Shunicorn, which was not good natured. The chieftains would capture the Shunicorns, which were very rare, and give them to their daughters. The effect was to tame the Shunicorn (well, at least make it manageable), and also to tame the daughter, who eventually became the sort of formidable woman you only find in churches these days. (These are the women with their hair in buns, who seem like part of the furniture.) [Editorial note: Hence legend about virgins and unicorns springs from these ancient stories. In certain parts of society it is still traditional to give a Shetland pony to ones daughter...] But in time the ponies and the Shunicorns merged, leaving a hybrid which looked like the ponies, but had the temper of the pony.
`Go on, Uncle Hilbert, tell me more about the Shunicorns. What did they look like?'
`They were a bit taller, and more noble looking than the ponies, and there was one other thing. They were a bluey-white in colour.'
`But that means...'
`Yes, Tuesday, you are a shunicorn,' said Hilbert. `You are the first for many years. And now you must learn to use your gifts wisely.'
`Yes. You will discover them soon, I think. And because of those gifts, you will then have to embark on a great quest, with a few companions.'
`How do you know this?'

Hilbert had actually once been owned by a rabid fan of paperback fantasy, and had had a great many of these books read to him by his owner. Hilbert thought he was barking mad, but bits of the books had stuck.
`Anyway, as I was saying, you have some gifts. Go and look at your head in the mirror again.'

Tuesday wandered over. There it was, a little lump growing, just above his eyes.
`That will get larger, but it takes some time. While it is growing you will find that your powers grow and fade. I think it's called puppetry, or something like that.'

Tuesday's mind was working overtime. Being a shunicorn, growing a horn, and now puppetry. It was terrible being young, there was so much you had to learn, and so little time...


(GTS) little time indeed. Tuesday pranced around, `a shunicorn - I always knew I was different', thought Tuesday to himself.

Hilbert sat down. Having said that Tuesday would have to go on a quest, he'd now need to think why? and where? and what it enTAILS. Hilbert pondered for a while, and then fell asleep.

Tuesday couldnt relax. So many questions to ask. And so he asked them all to Hilbert who was wakened by them. `Tell me more about the history of the shunicorns please', he asked.


Meanwhile, a few miles away, there was a badger digging a hole. This was no ordinary bagder, but a green one called Oscar. He wasn't really coloured green, but black, he was very `environmentally friendly' if you get my drift.

Oscar was a lonely badger. He had been hounded out of his last home by a pack of foxes, whom he swore he would get his revenge on in the future, and was not well endowed with friends. In fact, he had none. He was very lonely. Oscar had some goals in life, the main one being to find happiness, and a nice female badger for companionship. He also wanted to find friends, and when he had finished his hole, went out in search of some neigh!bours.

Wandering around, he came across the abode of Hilbert and Tuesday. Listening at the door, he could hear facinating stories about ancient times being told by Hilbert. Wanting to know more, he knocked on the door.

Tuesday answered.

`Eeeuurraggghh', said Tuesday - he'd never seen a green badger before.



However, Hilbert was less easily startled.
`Why have you got a WWF sticker on your back?' he asked.
`Well, I'm in favour of a wild life.'
`Does that mean parties and things?' asked Tuesday.
`Err... yes,' said Oscar.
`Great! When?' inquired Tuesday, though Hilbert just snorted in the dersisive way that only worldly-wise horses can.
`Um, Tuesday.' invented Oscar.
`Yes, what?' said Tuesday. Oscar was confused and fingered his CND medallion to gain time, then said:
`You mean where?'
`Oh,' said Tuesday getting confused too.
`In town I expect, tell you what, I'll pick you up at 8 o'clock and we'll go and cruise the nightclubs and look for some action, dude.'
`Oh, please may I, uncle Hilbert?' squeaked Tuesday, his little hooves clattering on the stable floor in excitement.
`All right, I expect you've got to learn about these things sometime. But keep an eye out for an evil villain, I expect there will be one in this saga somewhere,' said Hilbert wisely.

Oscar said goodbye, and went off to look for some organically grown hay to line his new sett with.


When Tuesday came round (he had had a dizzy spell from the excitement) he had to wait for Tuesday (the day) to come round. When it arrived, and Hilbert's Rolex said it was approaching 8 o'clock, Tuesday started to feel all funny. He realised that it was often a Tuesday when he felt like this, was it anticipation, his mystical powers, or just puppetry?...



Tuesday couldn't wait any longer. He slipped out of the stable, and went to look for Oscar. It was quite dark outside, and Tuesday couldn't see much. Then he noticed something else: as he thought about it being dark, he became able to see more and more! He looked at his feet in surprise (an odd habit) and they were glowing with a sort of bluey-white light!
`Help,' thought Tuesday,`I'm on fire!' and he galloped down the field to the pond at the bottom, so he could jump in it and put himself out. As he galloped, he realised he wasn't hot, so he stopped at the pond for a drink instead (he was thirsty after his run). He looked at his reflection in the water. He was glowing all over, quite brightly. The brightest bit was his horn, which was glowing like the balls of light which the farmer had hanging outside his house. Tuesday experimented a bit, and found he could turn his glow on and off with a bit of effort. Pleased with himself, he trotted back to his stable to show Hilbert. When he got back, Hilbert had vanished...



`Hello?' squeaked Tuesday `Are you there uncle Hilbert?'
` '
`Pardon?' Tuesday was getting nervous now, and his horn started to glow uncontrollably blue. He gulped slowly, and then he heard it again...
` '
He was shaking slightly now, and breaking out in a cold sweat. He peered into the room, which was lit a pale blue by the light of his horn. There was absolutely nothing there that he could see. Silence.
` '
`Waaaaaaaaaaaarrrrgggghhhhhh!' screamed Tuesday, and as he did so a brilliant bolt of blue-green light shot out from the end of his horn..

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzaaaaaaaaaapppppppppppppoooooooooowwwwwwww! ricocheted around violently, wiping out most of Hilbert's living room.
`Boo!' booed Hilbert as he materialised behind the sofa.
`Eeeeeeeek!!' screamed Tuesday as he backed off before he realised who it was.

Hilbert looked around at the living room and tutted.

`You really must learn to control yourself, Tuesday'
`Sorry Uncle Hilbert... I'll... I'll make up for it...'
`No need.'

With a wave of a hoof, and a swirl of colour the room magically reassembled itself.

`Wow! How d'you learn to do that!?'
`I used to be in a DTI commercial...'


Meanwhile, on the other side of a far away bustling metropolis, the forces of darkness were stirring...



...a cup of tea. They were planning the next phase of their dastardly plan to conquer the world, and set up a super-race.

Their plans included many diverse and difficult plots, the combined effect being a devasting destruction of the rest of the human race. The elements in the plans were difficult to understand, as seemingly only ordinary objects would be used. These objects, put together in their special way would cause bodies to explode in a sea of jelly and tartar sauce.

`Oi! Fred, lets get this vat of pink champagne to its launch pad, we need to test out the detonation'
`No chance Jim', said Fred, `we've got to get the semolina skud missile complete - its not accurate, and kills lots of innocent civilians.'
`Perfect', replied Jim, `I thought we were killing the civvies anyway!'
`Oh yes', added Fred, he's a bit thick you see, and tends to forget what he is doing very soon after not doing it.

Sheila walked in, she was reading an atlas. It was quite a up-to-date atlas, and has places like Iraq's 19th province and Rodesia in it. Shiela was the mastermind behind the plan - the idea was to explode pink champagne and semolina above the worlds population, and let it rain down on everyone. This causes a chemical reaction with the body and makes the body become like a student's fridge - very empty. The affected person then has an urge for jelly and tartare sauce which reacts with the body, causing it to explode (neat eh?).

Anyway, back to the plot.

Jim managed to place the semolina in the skud and point in the the general direction of the forest.

WWWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE it went and exploded in the air above the forest. Semolina rained down onto the trees, and dissolved them quite spectacularly.

`Wowo' thought Jim - `I like fireworks! '

Anyway, Sheila during the meanwhile, had found something very strange in the book. It was all to do with shunicorns and their love for semolinsa.



`Hey, it says here that shunicorns like semolinsa!' she called to Fred and Jim.
`That book must be out of date then, there are no more of them these days,' said Jim who was a part-time librarian and knew about these things.
`What do they look like?' asked Fred.
`Like a shetland pony, but a bit taller and nobler - and bluey-white in colour,' said Jim.
`How pretty,' said Sheila, `I would have liked one of those.'
`Yes,' said Fred, `I think it's a shame the semolinsas have died out.'

Jim and Sheila gave Fred a funny look, then all three of them went back down into their foxhole - they were foxes you see. It was a very roomy, spacious foxhole since it had originally been dug by some badger.


Meanwhile, it was just after 8 o'clock and Oscar the badger had turned up to take Tuesday to town for the evening. They got into Oscar's green 2CV and zipped down the M6 - Oscar humming a Pelvic Wombat tune as he drove, and Tuesday sitting in the back seat reading the latest issue of an adventure comic, Captain Polar and his amazing performing mule. Tuesday's favourite was of course the mule, the gorgeous Myfanwy.

Eventually they came to the city - Broom was in fact the capital city of the island, and the people who came from the city were called Broomois. Tuesday had never met a real Broomoi before and he was looking forward to it with great excitement.

Oscar found a parking space (on top of another car - there were not many spaces in the city centre), and they got out to look for some action. First they wandered along a main street, on which every shop sold either shoes or pizzas. Then they found a disreputable looking nightclub called the Yard of Lager, and descended into the smoky, dark interior...



...and the smoke hit them. Having not provoked it, Oscar and Tuesday fought back, in a brief, vicious battle. The smoke, knowing it was out- ranked, slinked away, off to find another victim. Oscar's fighting skills, which had recently been tested against the pack of foxes, had paid off.

The smoke had left, but the darkness remained - it was stubborn, and not so easily frightend. The duo's footsteps echoed throughout the hall, the only other sound being the dank noise of drips, high from above. No chairs, tables or even a bar were to be seen.

`Where is everybody,' asked Tuesday, who was beginning to glow in the dark, despite himself.
`Dunno... hey! What's this??' Oscar pointed to some slime on one of the walls. It was flowing slowly downwards, forming a disgusting pool on the floor.
`What a horrid smell,' he exclaimed. `Smells like..... pink champagne, semolinsa and.. no.. No!! Flesh! I can smell human flesh!!'
`Let's get out of here!!' yelled Tuesday, who was lighting the room quite efficiently now, revealing quite stunning amounts of the slime, all over the place. The two ran back the way they came, dodged the smoke, only to come face to face with...



...a broomoi.

`Hello, i'm a broomoi loike,' said the broomoi. `Can i interest you in some Villa tickets?'

Tuesday noticed that the tickets were in fact for a villa, and not Arson Villa (if you hadn't already guessed) - and pondered on the question.

`They're for the game next Wednesday like.', said the Broomoi. The broomoi was rather thick you see, and couldn't read.

Tuesday slapped a fiver into the hands of the broomoi and grabbed the tickets.

`Ta very much loike', said the broomoi. He was only going to ask for one pound fifty (are they worth that much i ask myself?).

Tuesday and Oscar then pushed him down the stairs back into the room with the Sermolinsa in it, and then proceeded to examine the tickets. They were, as Tuesday had noticed for a villa in an exotic location (but for the readers suspense, I will not say where yet!), and they had indeed got a bargain (or so they thought).

Tuesday and Oscar then had an urge to have a pizza, and so they nipped out onto the street and had a look around. As was mentioned earlier, if you were following the story, the street was either full of Pizza places or shoe shops, so they had a good choice. They went in a nearby one, which was aptly named The small pot pizza ltd, and sat down. Tuesday was incredibly hungry, and decided to go for the side salad for starters. Having got a tiny bowl, Tuesday managed to pile in the salad to about a foot above the table.

`Wow!', Oscar cried, `Let me have a go at that!'.

Oscar made his way over to the salad bar. He picked up a bowl, and put all the vegetables in his bowl (he was a vege dont forget!). Then he noticed the lettuce - and the thing crawling in it. It was a .......



...very fine example of a rare Tibetan Killer Slug, which was eyeing Oscar with a view to making a meal of him.

`Urrrrrghh!' shrieked Oscar `there's a slug in the lettuce!!!'

The Tibetan Killer Slug looked around in panic and screamed `Urgh! Where?!' Oscar stood by the salad bar, terrified and amazed.

`Hey, Tuesday, this is incredible - a talking slug!'
`Urgh! A talking badger!' retorted the slug, `Where's it anyway'
`It's you!' Oscar was getting increasingly frantic, and was pointing at the bowl of lettuce.
`Me?' replied the slug `Oooh... how did that happen?'

With a flash and a boom, the slug transformed itself into.. a rare Tibetan Killer Slug.

`Damn' damned the slug. `Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Doug. Pleased to meet you.'
`Doug the Slug?'
`Oh, we've met then?'
`Not exactly.'
`Hmm...' pondered Doug `you must be Tosca. And your friend over there is called Monday. Hang on.'

There was another flash and a boom, and this time Doug emerged looking slightly fatter than before, with a bit more of a pinky tinge.

`Errm... I'm Oscar and this is Tuesday' said Oscar pointing at Tuesday who had trotted up to see what was happening.

Doug chewed on a bit of lettuce. `Ah... yes Oscar and Tuesday. Oooer. I don't suppose you know of three foxes calld Fred, Jim and Sheila do you? I have a bone to pick with them. Well, in fact I don't have any bones at all which I suppose is the problem really.'

`Coo.. how did you know that? They kicked me out of my home!'

`Ah, it's easy when you're a psychic polymorph. Not so easy when you're not, like me. I need practice you see.' Doug concentrated and there was an enormous bang and a cloud of pretty coloured smoke. As it cleared, and the lettuce fell slowly to the ground, Oscar noticed that Doug had turned into a lesser spotted Tibetan Killer Slug.

`Coo' remarked Oscar.


By a totally unremarkable coincidece, Captain Polar and Myfanwy had just finished a hard day promoting their new comic book Polar Bears All in the Broomie branch of Dylan's Bookshop (motto: sit under a tree and smoke some hash). Night was falling, and they decided to get something nice to eat. Unfortunately, there were only Pizza shops in this part of town...


Meanwhile, back in the forest, the forces of darkness were again stirring...



...a pan of steaming mushroom soup. Cthulhu turned to the assembled lords of chaos and damnation.

`White or granary roll?'


Meanwhile, in the `Small Pot Pizza Ltd.' Doug the less-than-impressive psychic polymorph had turned into a pigeon after Oscar had asked him to coo. Captain Polar and Myfanwy walked in, and they were having an argument.

`Get real, man,' said Myfanwy. Doug did so, appearing as a shortish nondescript man in a battered suit.

`Thank you,' said Doug. `That's one of the problems I have. I'm very suggestible, and I can only change into varieties of whatever being I happen to be at the time.'
`Must be a lot of hassle,' said Tuesday. `Can you do anything else?'
`Well, I'm supposed to be able to read minds, but I'm a bit dyslexic, so that's not much use to me either. Anyway, Monday,' he said to Tuesday, `can I join you? All I've had to eat since the day before yesterday is salad. I've been craving a pizza for ages...'


`Well, I suppose we'd better do something about the furthering of the eternal damnation and chaos on this astral plane,' said Dracula, the Chairfiend of the Committee of Horrors And Other Supernaturals (CHAOS - what else was the acronym going to be?) He turned to a shifty looking figure with a beard clutching a camcorder in one hand. `Any suggestions, Jeremy?'


Back in the stable, Hilbert lifted his head and twitched his ears in alarm. Something was wrong, horribly wrong....



A column of air in the middle of the stable began to shimmer silver-blue. For a moment Hilbert wondered if this had anything to do with young Tuesday, but gradually a group of shadows began to form in the centre. With a sort of metallic zing the group materialised, and the shimmering faded away.

Five wombats and an android stood in the stable, looking around them. Hilbert began to wonder if he'd been overdoing the herbal tea.

`Excuse me,' said a pretty female wombat, `is this the planet Hresnea... um... Earth?'
`I... I think so,' stammered Hilbert.
`Home at last!' said another of the wombats and put on its mirror tinted shades. Then they all trouped off out of the stable and Hilbert decided to have a little lie down.


Meanwhile in the Small Pot Pizza Ltd (again), there were no spare tables and Captain Polar asked Oscar, Doug and Tuesday if he and Myfanwy could sit at their table.

`Sure, go ahead,' said Doug casually.
`Thanks old chap, you're a brick.' said Polar.

There was a flash and a boom and Doug disappeared. Oscar looked over, and saw a large red housebrick sitting on the seat.

Polar hardly batted an eyelid, and sat down. Myfanwy edged shyly onto the seat next to Tuesday. Tuesday could hardly contain himself with excitement that he was actually sitting next to Myfanwy the amazing performing mule! He began to flow bright blue all over, and the lump on his forehead began to get bigger and bigger...

`Is he always that colour?' Captain Polar asked Oscar quietly.
`Only some days, he's a shunicorn you see' said Oscar as he tucked into his veggie pizza.
`Gosh, a real one? I say, young feller-me-lad, would you like a job? My assistante here's been complaining that she needs a holiday...'

Myfanwy shot him a look that clearly meant she had said no such thing, she had only mentioned that they could have an answerphone some nights instead of fighting the forces of evil 24 hours a day.

There was a flash and a crunch, and the housebrick next to Oscar turned into... a breezeblock.



And then the breezeblock turned into a bale of hay.

`Coo', said Myfanwy, `Hay is better than pizza!'

Myfanwy bent down to eat some of the hay. Just as she did so, the hay transformed into a rather large, smelly and brown pile of manure.

`EUGH!', said Myfanwy on whiffing the stink.
`This is all very interesting said Oscar', said Oscar (not realising that he was getting his quotes mixed up, but then, thats a different story). `Doug seems to be having a bit of a polymorph problem'.

`Doug, you're an amazing guy', said Tuesday, hoping that at least he would turn into something better than a birck of a breezeblock.

With a flash or light, who but Tim Jones was sitting with them.

`Thanks', said Doug (or Tim), `Someone very sinister is using psychotic suggestion on me, and turning me into all wierd things'.

`Lets get on with the pizzas', said Oscar (who was having a vegetarian one naturally), as they had just arrived.

To cut a long episode short, the pizzas were very tasty, and Doug did not change again. Tuesday was over-awed with Myfanwy and Oscar told everyone else not to eat meat (he was an active green and vegetarian). Having eaten the pizzas (and got the doggie bags to take home the bits they couldn't eat), they left the restaurant. Standing outside the restaurant (on Old Road, which was the name of the street outside), they decided what to do next.

`Well', said Doug, `We've got the following choices: We either go to the cinema, go to a pub, go to a nightclub and get our penknives taken off us or be boring wimpy farts and go home'. Doug was not one to be subtle about words. `Or', he announced, `I can break into a Tim Jones voice and busk on the road'.

Doug was so inpressed with his suggestion, that he immediately started singing (in the style of Tim Jones). This is how the song went:



My my my Compiler,
Why why why Complier,
Events, hooks and breakpoints some more,
Forgive me complier,
I just couldn't write anymore!


Clthulu took a long sip of soup from his Garfield mug, and hissed...

`Right then! Our plan's agreed! We'll meet at midnight on top of the clock tower! Remember to bring your hankies and some trifle!'


Back on Old Road, Myfanwy and Tuesday were contemplating a visit to the Broodeon Cineman, where they were showing Dead Zombie Screwdriver Slaughter, when all of a sudden...



A middle-aged, ordinary woman cradling a twig in her arms stopped by them.
`The foxes are not what they seem!' she said mysteriously.
`Coo' said Tuesday interestedlyish.
`Seek out the Black Large, there you will find CHAOS' said the Twig Lady.
`Why?' asked Doug.
`All my Twig knows is that the charlady is absent' said the Twig Lady, and with a shake of her head went on her way.
`What was all that about?' asked Doug.
`I dunno', said Oscar, `something about a lodge, freemasons I expect, and an absentee charlady.' Captain Polar squared his shoulders and held in his stomach and stepped forward.
`This can only mean one thing!...'



`We're going to have to watch the film', said Polar, `didn't you see the leaflets she was handing out, they were for the film "Dead Zombie Screwdriver Slaughter" '.
`Oh, I thought it was going to be part of the plot', replied Tuesday.
`Not quite, but I think the film may aid us in our quest to discover why Doug changes into various objects when we mention them.'

A discussion broke out on what to do next. Tuesday wouldn't leave Myfanwy, so they and Doug decided to watch the film. Oscar and Polar wanted to follow this mystery lady, just in case she wasn't selling the film.

The first thing to do was to transform Doug into something that would ensure he wouldnt have to pay to enter the cinema. so, they said `Doug, you're a pair of tickets'. Lo and behold, two tickets for that evenings performance appeared in the place of Tim Jones, and they went in. Leaving someone else to continue their part of the story, we move swiftly over to the other two.

Oscar and Polar watched the lady disappear in the distance.

`Quick, in here', said Oscar (stealing the lines from a well known character), pointing to a black cab parked on the side of the road.

They jumped in, and told the driver to follow the lady. The driver then put the central locking on all the doors, and a glass screen came up to protect him from them. Oscar and Polar sensed danger - then they looked at the driver. It was a fox.

`Hello chaps', said the driver, whose name happened to be Jim, `I'm awfully glad you could pop in. I'm afraid though that you're now a prisoner, I'm taking you to our secret hideaway under junction 6 of the M6.'

`Goodness gracious me', said Oscar, and fainted.



Back at the cinema, Myfanwy, Tuesday and Doug the pair of tickets settled down to see Dead Zombie Screwdriver Massacre. Doug was feeling rather uncomfortable after being ripped into bits by the usher, so he concentrated on turning into something else, and just about managed to convert himself into four sheets of used toilet paper.

`Urgh!' shrieked Myfanwy (she was carrying Doug at the time)
`Squelch!' went Doug as he hit the ground and Tuesday trod on him
`Yuk!' yukked Tuesday as something nasty squirted up his leg.
`Argh!' cried the person sitting in front of Tuesday as a pony's leg wiped itself down their back.

`Dada-dada-dada-dadadadah-dadada-dada-da-daaaah' went the Pearl+Deane commercial on the screen.


Meanwhile, back in the Taxi....



Captain Polar tried to revive the unconscious badger as his astonishing SuperHero's brain went into overdrive reviewing the situation. They were locked into the back of a taxi driven by a fox, heading for the M6 at 50mph. There seemed to be no hope of escape or rescue, since he couldn't unlock the central locking without a lockpick, and he didn't have one. The only raw materials available were a stack of library books on the back shelf, which are not ideal for picking locks with.
`Are these your library books?' Polar asked the fox in the front seat.
`They're from the library I work at if you must know,' barked the fox.
`Right then! Stop the cab or I burn your books!' growled Polar, whipping out his Zippo lighter.

The cab screeched to a halt, causing an instant traffic jam on the city's main ringroad.
`Now open the central locking!'
`But I can't let you go, I have to take you to our secret hideaway under Junction 6 of the M6' wailed the fox, obviously the pressure was getting to him.
`Right! Here goes War and Peace!' said Polar, and flicked on his lighter. No flame appeared. Then he tried again. And again.
'Oh bother' remarked Polar.

The fox just laughed, and gunned the taxi forward again, only to crash straight into the back of a pink and green polka dot ferrari.

There was a sudden silence.
`Ulp' said Jim.



`Ulp', said Jim again. Of all the people to have crashed into the back of, it couldnt be anyone worse than Jeremy Beedle.


During the meanwhile, the film had started. Doug had finally transformed himself into a rabbit with massive ears, thus blocking the view of the screen from all those behind him.

Myfanwy and Tuesday snuggled up to watch the exciting love story unfold - they had in fact gone into the wrong part of the cinema, and instead of watching a Zombie massacre loads of innocent people, they were watching 2 zombies making love on board a ship, which, by some strange coincidence (if you've read all the amazing tales of a certain marsupial), was called the good ship Strawberry Ferret.

One interesting part of the film was the things you could do with SEMOLINSA (no apologies for spelling!) and pink champagne.

`Um, thats interesting', said Tuesday, `We went, albeit very briefly, into the Yard of Lager earlier, and found this stuff on the walls'.
`Omigod', said Doug, `This can only mean one thing...'



`...either the world is controlled by someone who can't spell, or... we are about to be invaded by Hoomins!' interrupted Tuesday in a flash of blue inspiration.
`Ulp!' ulped Doug as he turned from a cuddly rabbit into a cuddly hoomin, with his razor-sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of the cinema. `You mean like this?'
`How did you know about Hoomins?' asked Myfanwy `I've only come across them once...'
`...I read it in "Captain Polar and the Hoomins"' replied Tuesday. `That's the one in which you escape from certain death by forcing a hoomin to eat a Ghastley's megaburger'

`Ulp!' ulped Doug again as he transformed into a large, greasy burger oozing enough coronary-clotting fat to kill off the entire Hungarian Olympic Gymnastic team.
` see...' carried on Tuesday
`...hoomins travel in Semolinsa-powered starships. When they land, the hoomins dig a huge burrow in the ground..." butted in Myfanwy
`...that must be what the Yard of Lager is, an underground hoomin hide-out!'

`Incidentally, did you notice this sticky white stuff oozing from under the seats...?'



Meanwhile, while Tuesday, Doug and Myfanwy were busy trying to escape the death trap of the Broodeon cinema, larger things were afoot above the ionosphere of the planet... fact, larger things were in fact spacecraft. The Hoomin invasion force, at last signalled by the appearance of Semolinsa on the planet's surface, was ready and waiting for the order to attack. At last, a large scale source of fuel for their starships, ready to be taken.

`Woll,' said Grantvix, leader of the Hoomin forces, `it sooms that tho Somolinsa is concotratod in ono of thoir Human citios know as Broom.'
`Yos,' replied Grantvix, second in command, `that would appoar tho caso'

[It should be pointer out at this stage, that all Hoomins are genetically incapable to pronoucing the letter `e', and also, they are all invariably called Grantvix. Imagination is not one of the traits of their species...]

`Nothing for it. Wo must mount the invasion at onco!!!!'
Grantvix then activated a switch on the console in front of him, quickly glossed over the (c) Insight Terminals message, and promptly typed in a command which would signal the other ships to attack.

Soon the whole invasion force was diving through the atmosphere, alarming the early warning networks of the planet, and bringing british rail to a standstill (the air turbulance caused by the ships induced the wrong kind of snow for the train engines). Soon, they were upon Broom. One of the petty officers onboard the main vessel (Grantvix), noticed that they were very near one of their planning centres, the Broodeon cinema. The fleet made it's way in that direction.

The laser at the top of high hall failed to rescue anyone...



...because it had got bored and gone off for a pint and a curry with a rather nice little Duracell torch it had met while having a light snack earlier that day.

The Hoomin ships screamed in over Five Ways, and headed off down Broad Street. Little did they realise that, since their last visit, someone had unwittingly erected a large steel and concrete edifice near the end of Broad Street. The effect of the steel frame of the Convention Centre and the HiHat Hotel was two fold. Firstly it had the effect of causing passers-by to say things like `What a crap building,' and `what pillock designed that heap then?' The second effect was to generate an energy field of the type that makes physicists rich and famous if they discover it. This field caused the Hoomin ships to go 'caflooie' [go caflooie,v. cease to operate in the manner expected, play up,etc.] and embed themselves in the Central TV studios during the making of an episode of Central Weekend.

After the smoke had cleared, thirty-seven Hoomins crawled free of the wreckage. `Bugger me,' said Grantvix, `who put tha- oo, argh, stoppit, urk...' [Hoomins being unimaginative beings, they had taken him rather literally!] After a few minutes, a party of Hoomins set off towards the City Centre, one doing a passable impression of a cowboy after three days in the saddle...


A large frightening figure got out of the Ferrari, and advanced towards the occupants of the taxi...



The large frightening figure was wearing a long white labcoat and an angry expression.
`Oh well,' said Captain Polar, `At least it wasn't Jeremy Beedle, it couldn't have been anyone worse than that.'

The L.F.F. brought his angry expression over to the taxi and let it in through the window. It bounced around inside the taxi and soaked well into Jim, Polar and Oscar who had just come round and was wishing he hadn't.

`Do you know who I am?!' exclaimed the L.F.F.
`No sir, sorry sir,' whittered Jim, and then `would you like some flapjack?' in a feeble attempt to change the subject, pulling some flapjack from the glovebox, and peeling off the gloves which had stuck to it.
`I am Ellis Bart, and I've recently become very rich and famous as a result of discovering a strange new energy field generated by buildings like the convention centre.'

Just then, they were interrupted by the reappearance of the Twig Lady climbing into the taxi.
`Quickly, driver,' she said, `Take me to the Silly Oak! The gateway to the Black Large is about to open!'
`Righto squire,' said Jim. He reversed the taxi out of the back of the ferrari, and zoomed off southwards. Ellis, looking not a little peeved, jumped back into the Ferrari and gave chase.

This was fortunate for him, because a few moments later 37 marauding Hoomins called Grantvix marauded past the spot, tearing all the other motorists to shrebbons in a quest to make the world safer for pedestrians everywhere.



Meanwhile, getting back to the plot which no one has done for the last 4 chapters, Tuesday, Myfanwy and Doug were investigating the white sticky stuff from under the chairs.

`Doug, you're an Electron Miscroscope', said Tuesday. He wanted to look in more detail at the white stuff. Doug promptly turned into the aforementioned item, only for Tuesday to find there were no power points in the cinema (well, have you ever seen any?).

`Damn, Doug, you're a torch,' hoping for better success. Promptly again, Doug was a blazing brand (not the type of torch Tuesday had in mind), and managed to set the smoke detectors off. The alarms went off and water poured through the ceiling, soaking the audience and putting out the fire.

Thery had to get out quick, to avoid the Cinema Secur'y for interrupting the film. There was only one thing for it. Myfanwy, in desperation said:

`Doug, you're a...



...cinema secur'y officer!' Immediately, Doug turned into this hideous monster, with an evil grin and a tray of hideously expensive refreshments hanging from his shoulders.

`Ok you!' he yelled, `let's be having you out of here! We've had enough of people like you!' Myfanwy and Tuesday marched out of the cinema followed by Doug, past some very bewildered looking secur'y people. Out in the street, Tuesday exclaimed `Doug, you hero!'

There was a flash, and Doug suddenly found that his underpants were over his tights, and he had a large yellow 'S' on his chest. The flash was quite fortunate, as it blinded a couple of Hoomins who had rounded the corner.

`Quick Doug,' pleaded Myfanwy, `fly us away from here, now!!!' Doug picked up Tuesday and Myfanwy (having super-hero strength, and that three shredded wheat feeling), and promptly flew up into the sky, nearly choking on the smoke pouring from the Central TV building. With Doug's super X-ray vision, he could see [right through the plot] the ferrari speeding off (who could miss Ellis's driving?), and flew off in a rapid manner towards Silly Oak.


Meanwhile, back in the city centre, the remaining broomoi's, who were understandably a tad concerned about their safty, with part of the Hoomin invasion force tearing around the streets, had the sense to call the National Guard, SAS, Terratorial army, RNLI, Police etc etc... who all arrived in the convention centre (the hoomin ships having disrupted the energy field, they could get in).

`Right!', yelled Colonel Saunders, who was in charge of operation Save-Dump, `We seem to have a hoomingous problem. We need to contain this, as we can't have the whole country filled with people called Grantfix. I mean, imagine how boring the census would be? [agreement from the audience] So, we need to split the job up, and get it done. Police, you can take the north side of the city and the sewers. RNLI, you help with the latter. The army can help me clear out Eggbashton and Silly Oak, as it's a nice day, and the SAS can just run around at high speed, bombing hoomins and enjoying themselves. Now the National Guard, I've got something special...'

At that instant, something quite dreadful came through the convention centre ceiling...



...namely a huge contingent of Villa supporters who for reasons best left unsaid had decided to meet up there. The ensuing chaos took several hours to clear up, leaving us to get on with the story of Tuesday.


Doug flew across the city sky, and set down in Silly Oak, well away from the riot in the city centre. A taxi driven by a fox pulled up beside him and the twig lady got out, closely followed by the others in the taxi escaping from the evil clutches of the Fox gang.

`Quick, SuperDoug, get rid of him!' shouted Tuesday. Doug used his super- mind-control-vision to hypnotise Jim, who drove off believing that Polar and Oscar were still in the back of his cab. Being in a trance he drove straight over Ellis Bart's Ferrari, flattening it. Bart climbed out and slunk off, muttering something about Stage Staff and bunches of keys.

Suddenly Tuesday came over all funny. His horn swung round and started pointing towards the nearby University of Broom.

`That's where the Black Large will open,' said the Twig Lady, `follow that horn!'


Midnight found the group at the Clock Tower. They didn't notice the shadowy figures above them, where Cthulhu, Dracula, Jeremy Beedle and Sonia lurked.

Tuesday's horn glowed brighter and brighter as they approached the archway under the clock tower. In its light they could make out a wooden door.

`The gateway to the Black Large,' said the Twig Lady mysteriously.

Tuesday began to walk towards it, not being able to resist the pull of his horn, which was now glowing nearly white. The others followed him, not wanting to leave him to face the mysteries of the Black Large on his own.

High above, the forces of CHAOS looked at each other.
`Ooh, grayte, sooper,' squealed Sonia, and they prepared to follow our heroes and heroines into the unknown.



Meanwhile, back in some dark, unsavoury corner of the plot lurked Captain Polar and Oscar, standing outside a small shop called `PizzaVile'. Not having anything to do, they decided to pop inside.

`Pop!' went Polar
`You supereeros are roight shaworfs oirnt yoi?' came a voice from behind the counter.

Polar didn't need super X-ray vision to see that the girl behind the counter was... in fact... a nun.

`Moi noims Sanny. Oim sorry about the geaoiuir [that last word was particularly strangled] but oim not roilly a nun see, loik, well loik not any more, roit, but loik on the waaaaiges [Oscar could feel an involuntary tightening around his neck here] thoiy pay here roit loik I carrnt afford anthing else.'

Polar looked at Oscar. Oscar looked at Polar. Polar looked at the menu half-hidden behind a Galaxians machine.

`And loiks what even more is loik I not a Brooomoi realloi. Sorry. What would you like to eat?'

Oscar looked at Polar looking at the menu, then Polar looked in his wallet, then looked at Oscar because he was out of readies. Oscar looked at the Galaxians machine and then handed Polar a ten pound note. Polar looked at the note (it was a new one, with a picture of Loretta the sheep signing the Cannon Hill Convention on the back), and Oscar looked at the menu (although with some difficulty, since Polar was in the way).

`We'll have a large Hot Fungus Breathy please'
`Would you loik some home made cherry pie?'

Polar looked at the note, and then looked at Oscar, who looked in his wallet and fished out a fiver, looked at it longingly, and then gave it to Polar who put it on the counter.

`Yes please. And a cup of deep black joe' replied Oscar.
`Sorry, woi've only got coke. A-cola that is.'
`Sure.' Oscar had a flash of insipiration. `Erm can you deliver it?'
`Sorroi pet?'
`Errr can you deliver it to the Black Large?'
`Errrmm orroight. That'll be fifty pee extra.' Sanny called into the kitchen,
`One order to go to the Black Large, Mooklj.'

`I'll get the skateboard out' replied a funny-looking green alien who was just visible in the kitchen behind.


As Cthulu glanced behind him, he could just about make out the figure of a pizza-waving alien wearing a T-shirt saying Radical Food who was skateboarding towards the tower. The entrance vanished.


At almost the same moment in time (well, it makes a change from Meanwhile), a smallish fleet of the surviving hoomin warships were flying southwards to their emergency base, the deep dark dungeons of the Broom University Library...



Tuesday found himself in a room, of which all the walls were covered in green curtains. There were a couple of art deco armchairs there, and a pile of ADM3A's in one corner. Myfanwy and Doug were right behind Tuesday, and his horn had stopped glowing, and Tuesday felt rather peckish. There was obviously no food in this room, so Tue trotted across it and out through a gap in the curtains. He cantered along a narrow corridor, also made of green curtains, past a statue of a Duck-Billed Platypus, and into another room lined with green curtains.

Here there were a couple more chairs, and a white machine on a desk. Tue trotted over to have a look at it. It had a large white screen and a keyboard. A label under the screen said SPARCStation SLC, and a label on the keyboard said Ordley.

Just then, Tuesday realised that Myfanwy and Doug were no longer with him, so he trotted back to the first room, noticing as he went that the statue was no longer there.

But when he got back to the first room, it looked subtly different. Myfanwy and Doug were no longer there. Tue whinnied anxiously, and galloped through the exit at the far side, but instead of the clock tower he found only another corridor. It led into a room more like the first, but on the pile of ADM3A's sat a tall, bearded software engineer wearing a red SERF sweatshirt. He was flipping through an A-Z.

`Hi,' he said as Tue approached, `I don't suppose you know where we are in relation to Maple Bank? I've been in here for ages!'
`Uh?' said Tuesday and fainted.



The night was dark. There was no moon, and a light covering of cloud covered the sky. It was just about to start drizzling, when a huge, pointed ship tore through the air at a terrifying pace. Others followed, equally terrifying, but maybe a bit less pointy.


`Well, we found the Black Large'
`Mmm' replied Polar as he tried to open the door. `It's locked.'

With a kick, Polar sent the door crashing open.

`It must be up here.'

Mookly started to say something, but stopped, and followed Oscar and Polar up the 500 steps to the tops of the clock tower.


Tuesday was admiring the revolutionary's sweatshirt. It had a design a bit like the label off a Newky Brown bottle, but was much more... err... revolutionary.

The pile of ADM3A's suddenly came to life (those that could manage it). The revolutionary jumped off (since one or two had burst into flames).

`Woo' he said, and then, grabbing the nearest of the one-true-terminals, he began trying to hack into the attached computer. Tuesday didn't know anything about computers, but he did know about hay because his stomach kept reminding him. He pottered off again, past the statue and through another curtain, where he found something alarming that put him off his tea.


Polar, Oscar and Mooklj stood at the top of the tower, in a small dusty room, stacked with tins of Spam dated `1954'.

`Erm' ermed Polar `it's not here.'
`No, it's down under the arch,' replied Mooklj.
Oscar growled. `Thanks for telling us.'
`You didn't ask. Besides you don't have the key to get in.'
`What is it?' replied Oscar.
`How much is it worth?'
`It's worth not finding out what I'm about to threaten you with' snarled Polar.
`Erm. OK. You'll need this pizza. I'll tell you at the bottom.'

[f/x footsteps down 500 stairs]

`You just hold the pizza, and step through this wall.'

So they did.


A millisecond later, one of the Hoomin ships dropped a large bomb on top of the library. The pilot was so impressed by the pretty flames and the burning librarians that he totally failed to steer round a large clock tower in his path.




Stepping through the wall (not around, over or below, but through) they came into a strange place with lots of curtains. All of the rooms were square and had a sofa in one corner.

At the opposite end of the room was sitting a fox.

`Allow me to introduce myself', said the fox. `I am the one and only Sonia, most people call me Sheila though, only those who forget the characters of the plot don't.'

`Wow!' said Polar.
`Coo!' said Oscar.
`Wotcha!' said a voice behind them. It was Jim.

`I am afraid that unfortuantely you are going to witness the destruction of the world by the hoomins and ourselves. You are trapped forever in this place. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahaaha!'
`Don't you just hate it when that happens,' said Polar, sipping a can of OzzypissTM he had secreted in his pocket.


Back with the others, an entity appeared, and something rather unexpected happened...



The entity was in fact the pointy end of a Hoomin spaceship, and what it was doing was the unexpected thing, as it was in fact crashing through the wall of the clock tower staircase, which the others (Myfanwy, Doug and the Twig Lady) were climbing up.

`Ulp!' yelped Doug and promptly changed into a rare Tibetan Killer Slug, probably rather unwisely.
`Ulp!' said Myfanwy as well and fainted.
`Hmm... the Hoomins are not what they seem...' said the Twig Lady mysteriously.


Meanwhile the tall bearded SERF revolutionary had managed to get into a computer called Ordley through an ADM3A and was reading through the motd:

/dev/earth is 98% full. Please remove any excess inhabitants.

New SysAdmin. See news file for further details.

nesw typed the SERFer.
nesw: command not found
replied the ADM3A.
/usr/local/bin/news replied the SERFer.
Chief MegaHero Parkplatz is unwell and is unable to continue with his duties as general secretary of the SERF party," the news program said. "He may need a long time to recover. As from now SERF will be run by a new central committee, headed by me.

`Ohmigodohmigodohmigod!' exclaimed the SERFer and fainted.



On the ground below, a large crowd of arts students had gathered, admiring the new modern-art structure that had been created - "Big Joe with a Hoomin Starship". The clock tower leaned over with the force of the impact, making startlingly worrying creaking noises. Just at that moment, it remembered that bricks arn't very flexible at the best of times, and crashed down into computer science, while the remains of the Starship crushed law.


Bob was leaning back in his comfty chair, admiring the wads of paper scattered across the room, and listening to the cute sound of the foundry across the fields. All of a sudden, just before he was gonna delete some more files for the fun of it, large chunks of clock tower started raining through the ceiling. Following a large tumble of bricks, concrete and clock-bits, an old crone, an unconscious being and a rare Tibetan Killer Slug crashed into the room, upsetting the chaotic organisation of papers (and bricks).

Bob examined his syringe, wondering what had got into it...


The arts students began to make sketches of "Law Faculty a la Hoomin Starship".


A strange being, wearing a beard, SERF sweatshirt, and the kind of face one expects of a BBC micro owner, was most surprised as the moment he woke up, it stated to rain bricks. The nice little SparcStation SLC got bored with reading news and singing ditties about pies, and decided to explode. Parkplatz thought of escape. Parkplatz thought of Newky Brown. He was still suffering from the worst news of his life...

At that moment, Sonia/Sheila ran past, screaming about ruined plans, and bricks.A few moments later, a shunicorn and assorted friends ran past in the other direction. Parkplatz went on a Newky Brown search-and-consume mission...



...which didn't take too long. He stumbled across the ruins, under a bridge, over another bridge, and into a building with a fountain in the centre. Going into the building, he looked around and found a nearby bar.

What the revolutionary didnt know, was that in five minutes, a foxy founders friday-night fun fantastic and free disco was about to take place. But he bought a drink anyway.

Suddenly, as if by magic, the Twig Lady appeared. She was closly followed by Myfanwy and Doug. They had shaken off the dust and bricks, and needed good stiff drinks (ooh errr!!). They dived for the bar and ordered their drinks.

And then the music started to play.

`I'm not a biscuit, I'm a fried onion'

was the name of the song, sung to an obscure tune. It wasn't too bad for the disco, but with the incredible turn out of as many as 5 people, it was a busy night for Foxy.

Foxy looked around. He obviously had something to do with the plot, but none of the charcaters in Founders knew this. His real name was Fred, the fox who we met much earlier in the saga, but was soooo thick, he forgot to turn up again till now.

Anyway, the songs got better and better with such timeless classics as:

sung to a whole variety of tunes.


Meanwhile Bob was trying to get another incredible fix from his syringe. He had seen Myfanwy, Doug and the Twig Lady appear and disappear without as much as a by-your-leave. But then, he thought that was part of the fix which he may get again.

Bob picked up the syringe. `Hey man, there's some left', he muttered to himself. `I wonder if it will be friends again?'

He stabbed the needle in his arm, and exclaimed...



Darkness came, and the inky fingers of night massaged the aching back of the countryside. As the gloom softly worked the warm baby oil of peace and quiet into the tired muscles of the world. The planet slowly turned over, the night asked if the Earth would like any personal services.

After a night of intent passion, the world woke up again with a splitting headache and a nasty rash.

Doug woke up under a large pile of Pelvic Wombat albums. Myfanwy was slowly stirring. She seemed to be covered in chocolate mousse. Fred, Jim and Sheila were pinned under a large elephant called Kevin. The Twig Lady was nowhere to be seen.

Doug was beginning to wish he had something for his headache, which explained why he happened to turn into a packet of aspirin. This was handy really because something totally unexpected was about to happen.



Yes, it was so unexpected, that I'll leave it to the next author.


...back in Bob's office, Bob was about to have a fix...

and also, meanwhile, but a bit later, Doug and Myfanwy were considering their position - which was not comfortable in the least. The elephant Kevin had captured (God knows how!) the three foxes by sitting on them. And, the unexpected thing was about to take place.

Back to Bob. He jabbed the needle in his arm and said `Wow man!' and fell asleep in a horizontal position on his desk.


Now, everyone seems to have forgotten about the others in the plot. We last left Polar sipping a can of lager. Tuesday was left in the Black Large looking for Polar and Oscar - but what happened to them? Well, Tuesday's horn started glowing again, but this time with a myriad of colours which suggested that something was up. He sniffed. Sniff. `I smell hay,' he said to himself, and pottered off into the next room. In the room, which was subtlely different from the last was a pile of hay in one corner.

Just then, Oscar and Polar appeared.

`Where have you been?' asked Tuesday, expecting a nice sensible answer.
`Well,' said Polar, `after my can of lager...'



` nicked by Jim the fox, three other fiends arrived - by the name of Cthulhu, Dracula and Jeremy Beedle. They started arguing about exactly whose prisoners were were and so we slipped away.'
`Munch' said Tuesday as he tucked into the hay
`I have also deduced that the forces of darkness must be in league with the Hoomins that have started invading the Earth, that's why they're using semolinsa - they're going to massacre every life-form on the planet!'
`Oh noo, ecodestruction!' shouted Oscar the green badger. `Tuesday, we've got to stop them!'
`You're putting me off my breakfast,' only it came out as `gmmgg gmmfffl e mff mg mggfggst' as he had his mouth full of straw.


Bob woke up slowly, managed to focus on his screen and like a true junkie managed to type forum -g serf and started reading the latest serf-digest. It seemed that the different sections of S*E*R*F had foiled his coup attempt, and all the SERF regions were busy asserting their independence, while Chief MegaHero Parkplatz was busy trying persuade them that they needed to stay together in some loose kind of union.


Meanwhile, the totally unexpected something had so far failed to happen, so with a flash Doug changed from being a packet of aspirin into a female aardvark. He yawned.

Just then, the totally unexpected something rather sneakily happened while Doug was in mid-yawn.

A wombat put its head round the door, looked bleary-eyed and said `coffee anyone?'

Doug looked down at the Pelvic wombat albums at his feet, and back up at the wombat. There were a few grey hairs round the wombat's nose, but yes... no... surely it couldn't be...

`Migglezimblatt the Wombat!' exclaimed Doug.
`The same. Myfanwy, I thought that was Polar we found you with last night?!'
`No, that's Doug, I haven't seen Polar since he went down PizzaVile last night, he was supposed to bring us all some pizza at the Black Large,' explained Myfanwy licking at her chocolate mousse.

`I think you'd better come and have some brekky and explain,' said Miggy.

After they left, the room fell silent for a few minutes. Then Kevin the elephant got up to go to the loo, and the foxes were freed...



`Mmpnph mmymm slrrp' munched Tuesday as he ate his way through the pile of hay.
`Ahem' coughed Polar as he waited for Tuesday to finish pigging out.
`I hope that's organically grown hay' remarked Oscar

Just as Tuesday was finishing off the hay, the sound of a clock tower chiming midnight could be heard, far away in the distance.

With a zap! and a ping! and a slight whoooshing noise, Tuesday magically transformed into a rather fat shetland pony.

`Uh-oh' uhohed Tuesday.

`Great' mumbled Polar `now we're stuck in a maze of rooms, all alike, with a radical veggie badger and a fat pony with a flatulence problem.'

Polar timed this last remark to coincide with some truly dreadful gastric outbursts from Tuesday (which was quite clever really.)

`Worse than that, there's a bug-eyed monster behind you.' remarked Oscar casually.


Kevin the Elephant was having a bit of difficulty finding a toilet he could fit into, so he wandered around the building until he found one with a nice big door. It had a nice big sign on it too, but Kevin couldn't read as he was a P.E. student. So he squeezed into the gents and shut the door behind him. The nice big sign fell to the floor, and landed upside down so that nobody could read the message reading Beware of the Zombie Telephone Sanitizers.


Meanwhile, back in the Black Large, Polar was brandishing his plastic shotgun at Eric the bug-eyed monster from Mars (who worked for BT if you remember).

`Get back!' shouted Polar in a dangerously unsure tone of voice.
`Hullo. Will you be my friend?' replied Eric.

Polar's finger twitched slightly against the trigger.

`I was wondering if this might be any use,' Eric continued, pointing at a large lawnmower.
`Errrmmmmmm,' ermed Polar, who was now looking nervous.
`Or maybe this,' said Eric pointing towards the curtain draw string.


The funny looking green flakes continued their circular motion in Miggy's cup as the jam trickled out of Myfanwy's jam and chocolate doughnut.

`I think you'd better tell me what's going on' said Miggy.
`Well, it's like this...'



`...No-one here really knows what's going on any more,' said Doug.
`Great, fine,' said Miggy, `so what are we going to do about it?'
`Dunno,' said the others.

They all sat around, watching the jam puddle on the floor while they tried to think of something.


Meanwhile, Kevin the elephant had done what he set out to do in the toilet. Unfortunately, normal sized toilets are not generally capable of handling elephant sized output, so the pipe got a bit blocked, deep in the bowels (sorry) of the building. The piping began to swell up. Rivets started to pop. A leak sprang in one of the pipes, and foul water began to pour through the cellars. It reached the main boiler control room, and in the best tradition of disaster movies, by freak chance managed to knock the heating lever over to the setting labelled 'Vindaloo and then some'. Fuel surged, flames roared, and the poorly maintained boilers swelled with the pressure inside them and exploded.


Eric pulled on the drawstring of the curtains. The curtains parted, revealing the walls of the clock tower, and another drawstring. Eric, in a curious frame of mind, pulled this. The walls parted, in much the same way as the curtains had. They looked out. What they saw was an elephant, flying towards them.
`Ooh look, a flying elephurgh,' said Eric as Kevin landed on him. Through the hole they could now see several other flying shapes. They appeared to be a female anteater, a wombat and a mule, all strangely familiar. Doug, Miggy and Myfanwy landed in the Black Large.
`Wow, what a trip,' said Miggy.

Sometime later, having disposed of a flat Bug Eyed Monster, they got down to deciding what to do...


Meanwhile, the Twig Lady was considering how best to deal with her situation. She was in a room, faced by three foxes. She decided.
`Aieee!' she said, as she ran away from them.


Back in the room with the hole, they heard a screaming noise approaching. The Twig Lady burst into the room, and just managed not to run out of the wall. The foxes, on the other hand, managed not to manage not to run out of the wall.
`Aieee!'they screamed in unison. A few seconds later, there was a muffled triple thud, far below.
`OK, let's split up and find a way out of here,' said Miggy. `Doug, Oscar, Tuesday and the Twig Lady, you go that way. The rest of you, come with me.'


They wandered. Tuesday and the others found a hatch in the wall labelled

			Escape Hatch: This way out!
Miggy and the others found something else altogether. They found a blue smartie. Miggy picked it up, sniffed it and popped it in his mouth. There was a puff of blue smoke, and Miggy, Myfanwy and Captain Polar vanished from the plot entirely, having been caught in a bizarre manifestation of something very bizarre. Where were they now? Only smarties had the answer, and they weren't telling.


What will happen now? Will Tuesday contribute so much to the Greenhouse effect that the ice caps melt and Greenpeace gets really annoyed over how people are messing up their environment? Will Doug meet a male anteater, settle down and raise a family, or would that be too much aardvark? Will I be shot for that last pun? And will Miggy and the others manage to make yet another appearance in this saga, despite the best efforts of this author, seeing as how it's supposed to be about Tuesday the Shunicorn, and Miggy's got six more sagas than Tuesday?



Down the hatch went Oscar, Tuesday, Twiggy the Twig Lady and Doug. It went down for a long while on a long slide.

Eventually they got to the bottom. It was like the inside of an underground warehouse. This wasnt too suprising, as it was the inside of an old underground warehouse. What was more suprising were the big vats of pink stuff in and around the area.

`Pink Champagne!', said Oscar, `I thinks we've stumbled on something that will make the plot get back on course again!'

`Not only Pink Champagne', said Tuesday, `but also Semolinsa. If you remember Shunicorns, which is what I am, like Semolinsa, not to eat, but to swim in.'

Tuesday then proceeded to jump into the nearest vat of Semolinsa and started singing as he bathed himself. However, what Tuesday didnt know that the horn on his head was getting shinier and shinier - the semolinsa was enhancing his powers as he was ducking and diving (know what i mean, Harry) in the vat.

`Coo', said Twiggy, the Twig Lady
`Wow', said Oscar, the badger
`Omigod', said Doug, the slug as he noticed three foxes coming though one of the underground passages.

Who had arrived, but Jim, Fred and Sheila.



They looked in a bad way, and were being carried on stretchers by Cthulhu, Dracula, Jeremy Beedle and Ellis Bart, who were having trouble since there were 3 stretchers and only 4 carriers.
`Quick, let's get out of here!' said Oscar as they ducked behind one of the vats.
`Hang on, we've got to wait for Tuesday!'
`We can`t hang around here for six days!' said Twiggy.
`No, I mean... oh no,' finished Osc as he noticed what Tuesday was doing. Tuesday had been swimming in the pink champagne as well as the semolinsa and was now weaving across the floor of the storeroom singing
`What shall we do with a drunked postgrad, what shwall we do with a drinken pissed-grad, what shall we do with... erk' as he came face to face with the evil_villains.
`Aha!' said Dracula, stepping forward.
`Zap!!' hiccuped Tue and swooshed his horn towards the baddies, or rather, would have if his horn had been there. Then he remembered he had turned back into a shetland pony at the stroke of midnight three chapters earlier.
`Ulp!' ulped Tuesday.

`Quick, do something!' whispered Oscar. `Doug, you're an uzi submachine gun!' Doug blinked. There wasn't a flash of light. There wasn't a boom. Doug continued to be a female aardvark.
`Oh fuck!' exclaimed Oscar. There was a flash, and a boom, and Doug transformed into a female badger. `Oh wow!' thought Oscar.
`This must be Wednesday... never could get the hang of Wednesdays...' sighed the Twig Lady as Oscar and Doug crept off to find somewhere private.


Meanwhile, the baddies had bundled the drunken Tuesday into a horsebox and set off for their secret hideaway under junction 6 of the M6, not far from Broom...


While this was happening, the Twig Lady found a payphone and decided to ring up her old friend Hilbert for some advice...



Meanwhile, back in a field, Hilbert was busy having lunch. He's starred off with a starter of some nice long green grass, and was just moving on to some tasty little shoots when the telephone rang. Roughly a millisecond later, the telephone exploded, and wiped out most of the surrounding countryside in a massive nuclear explosion.

`Bang' said the explosion.


Jim, Sheila and Fred were cackling up the Arson Expressway towards their hideout under junction 6 when the sky was unexpectedly illuminated by a huge flash to the south.

`What the fuc* was that!?' exclaimed Jim who'd been driving up until that point.
`Eeeeek' scream Fred and Sheila as their Range Rover crashed through the fence and headed down a steep embankment.
`Cackle' cackled Certain Death as he sharpened his scythe.


`Damn and blast BT' sighed Twiggy as the line went dead, at precisely the same moment she got an unexpected sun tan on one side from standing too close to a window.

Twiggy had luckily been in the special forces commando plant squad, and dived for cover behind a fizzy drinks machine just before the blast came.

`Crash' said the window
`Crunch' replied the ceiling
`Fizzboomfizz' exploded the fizzy drinks machine, covering Twiggy in Pepsi.

Back in the basement, the walls started to shake and bits of plaster rained down. Oscar and Doug were doing something unprintable, until with a flash and a ping, Doug turned into a Ultrakil Megaslorta hand-held rice-pudding power zap gun, much to the consternation of Oscar.

`Nuuueeerrghhh' gurgled Oscar as he recieved injuries to bits of his body he'd be embarrassed to show his GP.
`Blam! Blam! Blam!' went Doug, as he ricocheted death rays around the basement, killing Jeremy Beedle in the process.


Hilbert found himself munching on a small blue Smartie that had been dropped in his field, just before everything exploded. He now found himself swimming in a lake of half-set strawberry jelly, floating amongst blue and pink clouds made from marshmallow.

`Over here!' shouted Polar, who was sunbathing on a beach made from sherbert dip, as Miggy and Myfanwy sipped martinis underneath a pink plastic parasol.


Eric was meanwhile recuperating at home, and was busily rewiring the entire BT network from his living room, when he realised that he'd accidentally wired everything up together, causing a huge power drain in the network, centred just outside a small village somewhere to the south of Broom. Everything would be OK, just as long as nobody dialled the phone at the centre of the power drain. Unfortunately, someone did, and the whole shooting match exploded in a massive mushroom-shaped explosion.




Oscar rolled around on the floor, gnashing his teeth in pain. He happened to gnash them at one point on a small blue chocolatey thing. There was a puff of moderately expensive special effects, and Oscar, with Doug still attached, vanished.


The Twig Lady went off in search of a shower and some clean clothes. She eventually found a bag lying on the ground. She undid the zip. A large jet of tea blasted out of the bag, drenching her for the second time that day. Twiggy was a healthy shade of brown all over now, instead of just being tanned on one side (from the explosion). The Tea Bag chuckled to itself, and vanished, leaving a few wet leaves in its place.

Twiggy wandered around some more, and found a door labelled `Shower and Clean Clothes this way!' `Odd,' she thought, and went in. It was dark. It was so dark that she didn't see the hole in the floor, down which she fell.


Tuesday had sobered up after the shock of the crash. He had changed form again. Now he was...



A unicorn; a tall, noble-looking horse, gleaming white, with a bluish mane and a long, thick horn standing proudly erect on his forehead.
`Hey, this is a bit of all right,' thought Tuesday.

Three pairs of eyes were watching Tuesday practicing prancing nobly around from behind the fence.
`Oh no, how are we going to capture that?' asked Fred.
`We need a virgin,' said Sheila thoughtfully. `Unicorns can be enslaved by a virgin.'
`Err... I think I have to go...' said Jim.
`Oh, and I think it has to be a human virgin.'
`What a shame we didn't keep one of those villa supporters,' remarked Fred.


Meanwhile, on the beach, Miggy, Captain Polar, Myfanwy, Oscar and Hilbert the Horse were sipping Doug the Iced Pepsi and discussing what to do.

`Well, it's obviously a bizarre manifestation of something very bizarre,' said Hilbert.
`Yes, we'd worked that one out,' said Polar.
`Before we can work out how to escape, we need to know who made the blue smarties - it's obviously the work of some much higher power than CHAOS or the hoomins.'
`Poor Tuesday - I hope he's all right,' murmured Myfanwy. Everybody turned to look at her. Small red hearts where forming in her eyes and floating softly upwards.
`Oh, yeuch' said Oscar, `that's just too sentimental.'
`Hmm,' hummed Miggy, and captured one of the red hearts to put in a roll-up.


Meanwhile, the foxes had gone on to their secret hideout under Junction 6 of the M6 and rung up Challenge Anneka to see if she could find a virgin somewhere in Broom (they didn't say what they wanted one for). Sheila had just put the phone down after phoning up local radio to put out a special call out for virgins, when there was a strange slithering sound.

`Clunk' went a trapdoor in the ceiling as it clunked open, and out slid Twiggy, showered and perfumed and in nice clean clothes, looking a lot younger, in fact what with the suntan and everything, not unlike Kim Bolton.
`Aha!' said Twiggy.

`Aha!' said Cthulhu and Dracula, as they too dropped out of the trapdoor, also wearing clean clothes.

First they decided to tie the Twig Lady up to a stake, but Dracula wouldn't have one in the house, so they chained her to four metal rings in the ground instead.

`Now all we have to do is wait!'



`Wait for what?' asked Cthulhu
`Wait for the tide to come in,' replied Dracula.
`Eh??' said Cthulhu, `a tide in Broom..?'

With a click, a grate rolled up the other side of the room. Behind it could be seen the sea.

`Surreal', said Cthulhu.

Suddenly, a whole multitude of Villa supporters fell through the trap door.

`Who was looking for virgins?', asked the first one.
`Yeah, who wants us - or in fact the Villa football team?' said the next.
`We are all virgins, none of the team has ever scored in their life!' commented the first.

Fred, Jim and Sheila didn't know what to do.



The beachcombers were busy basking in the brilliant breakers from the breathtaking beach. Oscar started getting bored, so he wandered around the beach. Climbing up onto a grassy mound, he noticed something in the sand.

Oscar walked over and discovered a lamp. He picked it up, and rubbed it to get off the sand stuck to it.

All of a sudden, something came out of the lamp. It was a Genie with a guitar.

`My name's Jimmy Hendryx and you can have three wishes, but you've got to justify why you want them.'

`Bloody hell,' said Oscar, `can't I just have the wishes?'



Oscar regarded Jimmy Hendryx quizzically.

`Ummm.... I wish Villa would win the F.A. Cup'

The genie blinked a few times, and then muttered `Urrrrm why?'
`Because if you can arrange that you can arrange anything'
`Very well,' and with a swoosh of his hand, the genie granted the wish.

Just them Miggy sauntered along, kicking up a cloud of sherbert as he climbed over the spaghetti dunes.
`I wish I had a really big spliff,' muttered Miggy, `I need a fiiix!'

With another swoosh and a cloud of red smoke, a huge, six foot long spliff appeared in Miggy's left forepaw.
`Wooo!' exclaimed Miggy, as he took a loooong drag and started to see reality from a new and hitherto unexplored persepective.


The tide lapped up the ramp towards Twiggy, who was writhing about in the way the helpless damsel is supposed to. With a slow creeeak a large metal door opened, and a small crowd of Villa supporters dragged in Tuesday.

`Chain him to the ramp!' cackled Cthulu, as the Villa supporters chained him to the ramp.

Tuesday was totally helpless in the presence of the Villa supporters, and they easily fastened him down.
`Now, tell me Tuesday,' drawled Cthulu in a slow, evil voice, `tell me everything you know about..'

Suddenly, a loud cheer could be heard from far off in the distance.

`Wow!' wowed the Villa supporters in unison `we've scored!'


Somewhere, far out in the solar system, a second wave of hoomin ships was preparing to attack. Only this time they'd brought their secret weapon. And this time nothing was going to stop them. Or was it?



The Villa supporters, overcome by shock at their team having scored, all had heart attacks and dropped dead. Tuesday stopped being helpless and started being bl**dy annoyed at being chained up.

Some seconds later, Great Cthulhu was lying moaning in the corner, clutching parts of his anatomy more usually used for scaring the living daylights out of people with, and Tuesday was free. Dracula didn't last very long either. With mighty twists of his horn Tuesday freed Twiggy, and they set off to find out what was going on.


The Hoomin ships passed Mars, on their way to Earth with their secret weapon sooooo terrible that not even they were allowed to know what it was. This group of Hoomins was called Whelkfibble. No-one knew why.


`Well, what's your third wish then? I've got to get on with the paperwork for all this, you know.' said the Genie.
`I wish... for someone to tell me anything I want to know!' said Oscar, with a sudden flash of genius.
`OK,' said the Genie, and disappeared in a flash of moderately special effects, recycled from an earlier chapter to save money. The lamp vanished. A beachball sized fluffy creature appeared. It immediately started saying
`Ask me a question,' over and over again in a voice with absolutely no redeeming features whatsoever. This voice had been designed after a lifetime of work spent analysing every really annoying voice ever. You know, the seven year old girl on the train who won't stop singing the theme from `Neighbores', etc etc.
`OK, what's going on then?' asked Oscar. `And how do we make you stop saying "Ask me a question"? And what are you?'
The fluffy ball cleared its throat, and said...


Tuesday and Twiggy down to the edge of the sea, and looked out. In the distance, they could see a small island. Rising from it they could see a plume of smoke. The source looked like a small furry being holding a long splifflike object...


Sheila, Jim and Fred set off in search of a curry so they could decide what to do next.
Cthulhu turned to Dracula.
`Right, there's only one thing for it. We're going to have to summon up a demon or two.'
`You can't mean...' said Dracula, afraid even to speak the name.
`Yes,' said Cthulhu, `we'll have to call the Minogue demons.'



The problem that Tuesday had was, `Where was everyone?'. Twiggy and Tuesday thus just decided to wander around to try to sort it out.

Suddenyl, Tuesday had a flash of inspiration! The smoke from the far island. If he swam out to it, the person at the other end may be able to help. They jumped into the water and started swimming. What they didn't know was the sea was shark-infested.


Meanwhile, the others were sitting on the beach with the annoying beachball. Oscar decided to wander around to get away from the creature. Unfortunately, it had taken a liking for him, and bounced off after him, thus making the others happy, but not Oscar.

Oscar started running, to get away quicker, but something dropped from his pocket and he stopped to pick it up. It was a pair of tickets for a villa.

`Oh yes', he said to himself, `I forgiot about these which Tuesday had got from a Broomoi. I wonder where the villa is?'

The beachball bounced up to him, asking for a question.

`Where is this villa?', he asked.
`Behind the point over there' replied the ball, accurately of course.

Oscar called the others only so they could investigate together. They rounded the headland and found a villa behind, just as expected. Strangely though, they noticed blue smoke coming out of the chimney, so they cautiously went up to the house, and looked through a window beside the door. Inside, they could see a lots of tubes. The tubes were about 5 inches long and 3/4 inch in diameter, and had the word Smarties written on the side.


The hoomins meanwhile, were just entering into orbit above the earth, ready to do their worst on the inhabitants of the surface.



Deep in the dingiest, darkest depths of the hoomin ship, a match flared. A roving reporter for `The Sol' was on the trail of a big story about who was behind the hoomin invasions.

By the light of the match, the reporter could just make out a sign. It looked very ancient. She lit a candle with the match, put it down, and scraped some rust and gunge off the sign. Standing on her webbed feet, she could just about read the sign. It said


The journalist shrugged; this made no sense as yet. Taking the candle, she shuffled through the darkened hold. It was so quiet, she could hear a pin drop. In fact, one did.

The platypus whirled, and peered into the shadows. But no, there was only an old sandwich in the corner. Sandwiches can't possibly drop pins. The journalist relaxed and continued.

In the next hold, there was another sign. This one was clearer. She lifted up her candle and read it: the words sent a shiver through her spine. It said


Slowly, the duck-billed platypus turned round. She was surrounded by a semicircle of triangular, rather soggy-looking sandwiches. Slowly, silently, the sandwiches closed in.

This looked like Certain Death.

`Hello Emilia,' said Certain, `fancy a Jaffa Cake?'



`Thanks,' said Emilia, and took one. She threw it to the other end of the bay. It is a well known fact that no living being can resist Jaffa Cakes, and the sarnies were no exception. They charged after the orangey morsel, leaving the way clear for Emilia to leg it in the other direction. This she did. Certain Death, being dead (or at least Death) was immune to the call of the Jaffa Cake, shrugged, and shuffled off in pursuit.


Twiggy saw a shark heading for her, and grabbed hold of Tuesday in fright. Tuesday also saw the shark, and was so frightened that he levitated out of the water, with Twiggy clinging to his back.
`This is OK,' thought Tuesday happily, and sauntered through the air to the island, his horn glowing brightly with the power needed to hold him up in defiance of reason and gravity.
`Bugger,' said the shark (who was called Kelvin).


Tuesday and Twiggy dropped down onto the beach, and met up with the others. After the inevitable `Well fancy meeting you here,' etc, they went into the hut to find out what was happening with the Smarties. Strangely, when they went inside, all they could see was darkness. Tuesday got scared, and his horn lit up. This revealed the fact that they were falling, en masse, down a large hole.

A small ant walking along the beach heard a distant, `Aieee!' from the hut.


Up in space, Emmy had raced off to the ship's bridge, where she found something more bizarre than a load of mutant sandwiches.

The bridge was a bright purple colour. It was about ten feet long, and had waist-high railings along each side. It crossed a small stream, which flowed into and out of the room through low arches in the walls. Emmy loved water, and dived in. She swam through the arch, and into another room. It was very dark. On the wall was a sign saying, `The banana is pointing south,' in large neon letters.

`Odd,' thought Emmy.

There was a rushing noise, a rapidly loudening, `Aieee!' and everyone crashlanded on Emmy.

There was silence for a while, then groans.

`Where are we _now_?' said someone.

`We're in...' said the ball of answers. It never finished its answer because just then the author of the next chapter took over.



`...a space ship,' the ball continued.

`With a platypus!' exclaimed Twiggy.

Tuesday's horn was glowing more than ever before. Not because of the platypus, but due to the sound of singing from elsewhere in the ship.

Hoomin, Hoomin,
We're off to drink some Gin,
With a bottle and spade,
and a hand grenade,
Hoomin, Hoomin

It went.

Anyway, they quizzed the platypus quizzically, to determine whether she was friend or foe. They realised she was a friend when she asked them about where she could get some Colostomy bags.

The sound of the Hoomins was getting louder. Tuesday and Twiggy dived into the water, Oscar started digging a hole on the bank (bank of the river, not the inevitable bank of computers with flashing lights and coloured switches) to hide. The rest just hid under the bridge.

Then the hoomins came in.



They were running very fast. Most of them pounded across the bridge, but one noticed the hole that Oscar had dug and jumped down it instead. As hoomins are cute and furry Oscar didn't mind it too much.
`What's happening?' Osc asked.
`The sandwiches are revolting!' said the hoomin.
`Well, they're BritRail ones aren't they?'
`Yes but we borrowed their spaceship to attack the earth, in fact we've just discovered the sandwiches were supposed to be our secret weapon.'
`Oh... that's interesting... by the way, my name's Oscar the badger,' said Oscar, who liked to be introduced before he snuggled up to furry things in the bottoms of holes.
`Whelkfibble the hoomin' said Whelkfibble, and smiled revealing several rows of razor sharp fangs.

By now the hoomins had passed over the bridge and passed out of sight. Just as everyone was thinking of coming out of cover, they heard a completely indescribable sound. The sound grew louder and louder. Emilia stuck her head out from under the bridge to snap off a couple of photos for her report, and was in time to see hundreds of sandwiches, some of them very large indeed, running as fast as they could. They too thundered across the bridge and out of sight.

A few moments later they were followed by two small, blonde, australian-looking women. Emmy ducked back under the bridge.
`Oh no!' she said, `the Minogue Demons!!'
`Oh no!' everyone gasped, `not the Minogue Demons!!'
`Yes!!' contradicted Emmy.
`Oh noo!!!' everyone gasped even louder.

By this time the demons had also minced across the bridge in pursuit of the sandwiches. All was silent.

They trouped out from under the bridge. Tuesday looked around. He could see:



Whelkfibble leapt at Tuesday all of a sudden, hoping to surprise him.
`Oh, get stuffed,' said Tuesday. There was a bolt of bright purple light from his horn, and there was a cute and vicious stuffed Hoomin sitting on the floor. `Ooooh,' said Tuesday.
`Come on, everyone, lets get going,' said Hilbert, `and Doug, you're a Terminator.' A large, overmuscled being appeared, carrying a big stick.
`I thought Terminators had guns,' said Twiggy.
`Vell, itz ze cutz,' said Doug, in a thick Austrian accent.
They wandered off in search of anything interesting.


After a few minutes, they heard the sound of feet running towards them, and the sound of Hoomin singing. The Hoomins came round a bend in the corridor and charged towards them.
`Get stuffed, the lot of you,' said Tuesday. There was another, brighter flash of purple light, and a lot of soft thuds as about a thousand stuffed Hoomins hit the floor, then a gentle rumbling sound as the mound of toys avalanched on to the party. They dug themselves out, and were confronted with the sandwiches. Doug stepped forward.
`Hasta la pizza, sarnies,' he said. For reasons of taste and decency, we draw a curtain over the ensuing mess. To get a feel for the occasion, cover yourself and your terminal in bits of mouldy cheese and tomato, and bits of stale bread.
`That only leaves the Minogue Demons,' said Emmy. Everyone went pale. The Minogue demons came round the corner.
`This should be good,' said Certain Death.
`How do we get rid of them?' said Oscar to the AnswerBall.
`Erm, try good music,' said the Ball.
Miggy started singing Pelvic Wombat songs, and everyone joined in. The sound was terrible, but still better than the Minogues ever managed.
`Eek,' they screamed, and vanished.

After everyone had recovered from their fright, they set off in search of the Foxes, Dracula, Cthulhu etc. They found a small ship in the hangar, and got ready for launch.

Miggy, who had the most experience of flying, was piloting. He pulled the lever labelled 'Launch'

The hangar floor disappeared, and the ship plummeted straight down. Six inches from the ground, the retro rockets fired, and Miggy executed a perfect landing, upside-down in the side of the O.V.T.

What they saw inside was too terrible to mention, so I won't. They all jumped out of the ship, and ran off towards the University. As they passed one of the numerous curry houses, Dracula and Cthulhu sprang out at them.
`Aieeee!' screamed everyone at exactly the same time.
`Maybe this time,' muttered Certain Death.



They turned and ran the other way. But then, Fred Jim and Sheila sprang out of another of the curry houses!
`Ohmigodohmigodohmigod!' said Miggy.
`Tuesday, save us!' cried Myfanwy.
`Quick, in here!' shouted Captian Polar showing his innate leadership abilities coupled with his penchant for dialogue sounding like it was out of Enid Blyton.

They all dashed into the nearest building, which turned out to be a rather posh curry house called The Dilsh. They ran past a table at which Eric the bug eyed monster was having a quiet meal with the SERF revolutionary, and into the kitchens, where they were met with a sight almost too horrible to contemplate.

A diminutive being was there stirring a cauldron of semolinsa. Tuesday started to go weak at the knees.

`Aha,' said Ellis Bart, `forgotten about me hadn't you?'



Miggy decided to make a float for it, as the oesophagal tract of Tuesday convulsed violently.

`Urrrrrm' mumbled Tuesday in the most authoritative voice he could manage, `urrrmmmmmm.... get stuffed!'

With a flashy purply effect a bolt of energy zapped from Tuesday's horn, ricocheted off a large evil-looking saucepan, bounced around the room and then hit the Twig Lady who rather unfortunately turned into an incredibly curvacious latex doll.

`Phwoooarrrr' drooled Migglezimblatt as his paws twitched to get at her just as a second attempt at zapping vanished down the plughole of a large stainless steel sink, and then reappeared up the pan of a disgusting looking toilet that was lurking mysteriously in the corner of the kitchen.

The blast hit Miggy by surprise, and he gently floated to the floor as a little stuffed furry ball.

`Aww hell they were both minor characters anyway' reflected Tuesday as his third attempt vanished into a large pot of Dog Phall before emerging several seconds later with renewed vigour, heading straight back at Tuesday.

`Duck!' came a badgery voice from near Tuesday (so he did) `That's a duck bill you've got there, isn't it?' (Oscar had been busily trying to chat up Emmy)

The phosphorescent flash flickered faintly in a flaming frying pan, and then flew phenominally fast at the fidgeting physicist.

`FFOOMM!' alliterated the blast, turning the evil form of Ellis into a cute and cuddly figure of fun for all the family.

As the smoke (or at least some of it) cleared, Tuesday could see the extent of the devastation (or at least some of it). Miggy and Twiggy had been transformed into cute and/or rather suspect toys. Myfanwy had been caught by the last explosion and had turned into a rather nasty plastic toy (or at least some of her). Emmy appeared to have a large, plastic, yellow beak attached to her face.

Tuesday wondered what they were going to next. So he thought about. And then he thought about it a bit harder. And then he realised that he was going to have to ask the AnswerBall.



`Answerball, Answerball on the floor, Who in this saga is the biggest bore?' said Tuesday, wondering who there was left to get rid of so the loose ends of the saga could be tied up.

`You are,' it replied, not exactly the answer Tuesday wanted though.

Tuesday pondered the answer. But all of a sudden, the door burst open and the remaining characters from the saga came in.

So, in the kitchen of the Dilsh were: Tuesday, Oscar, Polar, Hilbert, Doug, An Answerball, Three Foxes, Dracula, and Cthulhu. Anyone else is of no relevance.

`But what of the Blue Smarties?' said Oscar, being rather keen on clearing up this story.
`And, when are we gonna get rid of the foxes?' asked Polar.
`And, when are we gonna get rid of Polar?' asked the foxes.
`Answerball, Answerball on the floor,' began Tuesday, `what's the secret of the Blue Smarties, cor!' Tuesday, not being the best at rhyming in the world just added a `cor' for effect.

The answerball started...



...but didn't get much out because Fred leapt forward and flattened it with a frying pan. Bits of machinery flew everywhere - it appeared that the Ball was a mobile version of the Hitchhikers Guide with a Genuine People Personality added. Unfortunately for Fred, it also had a trans-dimensional collapsatron power supply, which chose to collape at this moment and take Fred to another dimension. There was a deafening explosion and Fred and the remains of the Ball vanished.

`Ow, my ears are ringing,' said Doug. Indeed they were - his ears had turned into the bells off an alarm clock, and were merrily jangling away.
`Doug, you're a terminator again,' said Oscar (there was a pop as a large figure with muscles replaced a much smaller one), `now get them, everyone!'

There ensued a fight, as you might expect. Dracula grabbed Polar, who grabbed the garlic off the shelf, and a lump of steak from the counter. They disappeared, kicking and biting, through a door. Tuesday tried to control his powers, and succeeded in turning the alarming figure of Great Cthulhu into a less alarming cuddly glove puppet. This left Oscar, Hilbert and Doug the Terminator to face the two remaining foxes.
Sheila turned to Jim. `Now,' she said, quietly.
Jim pulled out a little box, and pressed a button on it. The cauldron of semolinsa exploded, showering everyone with the stuff. Jim and Sheila moved in for the attack.

The battle raged back and forth for some minutes, and eventually the semolinsa settled. Captain Polar staggered in, looking anaemic, but still clutching the garlic. Jim had had a sizeable quantity of Chillies force-fed to him, and was consequently not very well. Doug had somehow been turned into an onion, and wasn't doing much. Tuesday had been caught by the backblast from Cthulhu, and was draped over a fridge, panting. Oscar and Sheila had knocked each other out, and Hilbert was now sitting on a cauldron which he'd trapped Sheila under.

`Now all we need is to sort out what's happened,' said Hilbert. `I think it's time to...'



`...get rid of these foxes so that the world will be safe from them forever, and work out how to reverse the effects on our friends. Tuesday, do you think you could manage a reversal?'
`Nay,' say Tue looking rather ill.
`Errr, Tuesday,' said Polar, `where has your horn gone?'

What with the massive dose of semolinsa and the high-energy trans-dimensional output of Tuesday's horn, he had instantaneously re-metamorphosed transcendentally, with a high anti-surreality coefficient, and turned back into an ordinary looking shetland pony.

`Oh, that's just brilliant' quacked Emilia in severely irritated tones, through her yellow plastic beak.

`I think we need to go somewhere quiet to sit and work this one out,' suggested Hilbert. So they gathered together some of the things lying around, put them in a spare cauldron, and between Hilbert, Polar, Tuesday and Emilia, carried it away. They wandered along for a while, and soon found themselves in the quiet space of a Broom Uni quadrangle. The clock tower appeared to have been hastily rebuilt during the day. An owl flitted past overhead.
`This seems quiet enough,' suggested Hilbert, so they sat down and emptied out the cauldron. In a heap lay: Two foxes and a green badger, unconscious; a furry ball, a mule shaped plastic toy, a latex doll, and a packet of smarties.

`Where did the smarties come from?' asked Tuesday, as if he expected an answer.



It was dark. Dark and damp. Dark, damp and with a peculiar sort of earthy smell. Dark, damp, earthy and with a mole in it.

At this time in the morning, what this particular mole liked best was sleeping and dreaming about worms. At this time in the morning, what this particular mole liked least was to be disturbed, certainly not after a late night working at the Broom Uni Institute of Bizarre Thingies and Hard to Explain Studies. At this time in the morning, this particular mole was trying to get some shuteye before his early morning power-pre-breakfast-coffee meeting with the VC who had dragged him in to explain his request for funding for the institute's Tippex Munginess Research Project, which was leading the field into researching exactly why Tippex goes so mungy. It was going to be a hard job persuading the VC, as his last major project had been examining the reasons why OzzyPiss Lager tastes so good. It had taken them five years of study and half-a-million Broomie Pounds to discover that it actually tastes like piss.

At this particular time in this particular morning, this particular mole was going to be particularly pissed off when he is woken in a couple of moments time.


Six feet above the sleeping mole, a motley group of individuals stood around yet another molehill in the quadrangle lawn, trying to work out what the tiny braille sign said next to it.

`Umm I think this is it,' mumbled Hilbert.
`I didn't know you could read braille Uncle Hilbert!'
`Umm I can't, but I can read the address on this bit of SERF junk mail sticking out of his letter box.'
`So do you think that he can be of any help?' asked Tuesday hopefully.
`Umm do you want a true answer, or a really positive one?'
`Errrr I think I'll go for a really positive one.'
`Probably not.'
`Oh that's wonderful. Truly wonderful,' murmed Emmy in a not-all-all-sarcastic voice, `I mean I'm minding my own business, when suddenly you lot come out of nowhere and all fuck breaks loose. I'm almost killed, eaten, sliced and shredded. I get covered in vindaloo sauce, which I'm not sure will wash out easily. My assignment is late in. And now I've got this silly plastic beak which means I'm going to have to get my passport photos retaken.'

`Have you got any better ideas?' asked Hilbert in as polite a fashion as he could manage.
`How about this one?' snarled Emmy as she inserted a tube of Smarties somwhere that was going to give Hilbert's vet a lot of trouble later.
`Nnng,' nnnged Hilbert, `well, thanks very much for your input.'


The doorbell rang in that nasty sort of way usually reserved for use by Jehovah's Witnesses, though Professor Moley tried to ignore it, but it rang again, trying to persuade the occupant to come to the door and discuss God or something equally unpleasant, which in fact includes a wide range of things that seem to be deeply unattractive at 3am, such as being canvassed for a sabbatical election, Jeremy Beedle in drag, having to read this particular sentence, or having an old horse ask you difficult questions about stuffed wombats, which by some remarkable coincidence was exactly what was about to happen.

Moley slowly opened his eyes. Everything was dark and blurry, so he rubbed his eyes to try to make things clear. This wasn't going to be desperately successful, as moles' eyesight is usually dark and blurry. Prof Moley always tried just in case he'd unexpectedly metamorphised into something with better eyesight, such as a small box of Havana cigars, or a six-year-old chicken phall encased in lead and buried in a cesspit. Or something.

Anyway, things didn't get any less blurry, so Prof Moley got out of bed in a sort of falling-out-and-smacking-your-head-against-the-bedside-cabinet way, crawled to the door and thought about what he was goind to say to whoever it was. After a moments contemplation he narrowed it down to (a) What the fuck do you want? (b) What the fuck do you want? or (c) What the fuck do you want?

He opened the door.

`Yacht the wuck do you font? Oh bugger.'
`Professor Moley? It's Hilbert the Horse.'
He closed the door.
`I told you this wan't going to work,' remarked Emmy, despite the fact that she hadn't.

The door opened.

`What the f...' started Moley. Or rather stopped Moley, as his bad eyesight appeared to be playing up and in looked suspiciously as though there was a duck-billed platypus with a silly plastic beak at his door.

`Professor Moley, we have a bizarre and very hard to explain thingy that we need some help with.'

Moley was only half-listening as he peered at what appeared to be a half-naked latex doll lolling out of a large cauldron.

`Triffic' thought the talpine tutor.
`Professor Moley?'
`There could be a book in this.'
`Mmmmmm. Ah. And who might you be?' as he drifted back from absent mindedness. `I'm Hilbert the Horse. I was a student of yours back in 89/90, just after the Cannon Hill convention.'

Moley stared at Hilbert closely. This didn't help much, but he did it anyway. `Didn't you write a paper on Celtic Equine Legends?'
Hilbert grinned, showing off all his nasty, yellowing teeth in a highly unappetising manner. `Yes, that was me.'
`Oh yes. It was crap. You should know that Shunicorns don't exist.'

A medium-sized garden snail munching on some cabbages heard a nearby Shunicorn coughing pointedly.


High above the planet, a motley collection of Hoomin spaceships regrouped for a final attempt to take over Earth, or whatever the damn place was called. Their last attack had almost succeeded, but they were beaten back at the last minute by an orbiting ro-ro ferry that had pelted them with empty Newky Brown bottles. They had managed to put it out of action by nipping back in time and nuking Scottish and Nucastle Breweries out of existence sometime during the great war of 1991.

Grantvix stood onboard the fleet's flagship, the SS Grantvix deep in thought. He looked up, and ordered Grantvix to implement plan 87b. Grantvix looked around in horror at Grantvix. Science officer Grantvix asked Grantvix politely if he really meant 87b, to which Grantvix replied that he did. First officer Grantvix gulped nervously.

Grantvix turned to his terminal and typed:
The terminal replied:
Are you sure? (Y/N)
Grantvix typed "Y"
Are you really sure?
Umm are you really really sure, cos this is a really nasty thing to do?
Please enter your top-secret really-hard-to-guess password.
Initiating plan87b. Shit, this is a really nasty thing to do to this poor bloody planet. I hope you'll feel guilty about it for ages afterwards.
typed Grantvix, who really couldn't give a damn, and besides he was at the tricky keep level, with no wand of opening and half a dozen cockatrices that he'd just accidentally created.


The Institure of Bizarre Thingies and Hard to Explain Studies was set slightly back from the road, hidden behind some trees that were, in point of fact, native to a medium sized world in the Alpha Centuri system. This is worth mentioning, as some time in the distant future these trees have an incredibly important role in the saving of all life in the universe. At the moment though, they were just standing around with a couple of posters tacked on to them advertising a band called A Bunch of Accountants which apparently had a dalek as the lead singer. This is also worth pointing out as it will have no effect at all on the plot, and can be safely ignored.

A ragtag band came marching up the gravel driveway, dragging a large cauldron along behind them. Professor Moley led the way, navigating more by a sense of feel rather than anything else (apart from the fifteen foot high neon sign with an arrow on it situated halfway down the drive). Behind him were two equine shapes, one large and a bit hobbly, one much smaller, reading a copy of the Amazing Adventures of Captain Polar (and Myfanwy the Mule) by the light of a small Duracell torch with nearly-dead batteries.

Perched on top of Hilbert were a semi-concious badger called Oscar who has hardly been mentioned for ages, and a plastic-beaked platypus who was covered in curry. The large cauldron was being dragged by Captain Polar who was wearing his underpants outside a pair of orange tights. These underpants will be mentioned later in order to raise a gratuitous giggle.

At the end of the satifyingly crunchy driveway sat a Victorian-Gothic mansion with unnecessary turrets and strange pointy bits that looked like it should be out of a Hammer horror movie, apart from the fact that in this case it was quite tastefully floodlit. An official-looking plaque spelled out the name of the institute. Below it a slightly more official looking plaque read
All visitors must report to security. A very official-looking plaque then read Correct Passes Must Be Carried at All Times.

Professor Moley climbed up the stairs and pushed the door open (which is quite a trick for a little mole). With the rest following behind him, he went to the security desk and rang the brass bell that had a sign on it saying RING.

`Squelch' said the bell, just to be awkward.

A twelve-foot high man-eating alien came out of an unfeasibly tiny office.

`Good evening sir,' said the alien politely, `can I see your pass?'
`Certainly,' replied Professor Moley, reaching inside his tiny embroidered waistcoat, and handing over a small card to the alien Security Guard.
`This appears to be a 1973 Tufty Club membership card, Sir.'


There was this entity and something unexpected happened.

The entity was a large marble bust of Elly Listeria, the first animal Chancellor of Broom Uni. Elly was a large elephant who had previously been a sabb in the Guild of Stewed Ents, in the days before it became semi-submerged in the Lake (but this is all a different story). Being of an elephant, the bust was quite big, and being quite ugly, it had been situated in a very difficult-to-see cranny some way up the wall.

The unexpected event was a high velocity Smartie hitting the bust at a particular location near the base somewhere off to the left.

The cause of the unexpected event will not be revealed, but suffice it to say that it involves extreme fear and a close study of the text of this chapter.

The result of the unexpected event will be revealed shortly.


`Up yours big job!' Emmy knew how to throw a cutting insult or two, `I'm not going to let you stop me!'

Now, it so happened that crammed into the infeasibly small office was a rather old Cray III, which, for some obscure reason, took the above remark rather badly. The Cray III unexpectedly activated it's circuit called RING_EVERY_BLOODY_ALARM_IN_THE_PLACE_AND_THEN_SOME which rang every bloody alarm in the place and then some.

Lights flashed. Alarms rang. Klaxons sounded. With a thud huge steel plates sealed all the ways out of the building.

The twelve-foot high man-eating alien snarled nastily, revealing its triple row of nasty jagged teeth. It leapt over the counter, grabbed Professor Mole and was just about to tuck into mole-in-its-jacket when there was a funny noise and a nasty eggy smell, followed by the unexpected appearance of a high-velocity Smartie which ricocheted twice, pinged of the light fittings and then hit a rather ugly marble bust at a point where there was an ever-so-slight flaw.

The top half of the bust slid forwards. The bottom half slid backwards. In a slow, almost graceful movement the entire lot slid out of its cranny, and then accelerated downwards, on to the head of the alien Security Guard.

`Splop' said the alien Security Guard's brains as they splopped all over Emmy. `Super' chirped Emmy happily.


The inky void carried on doing whatever inky voids do, as a large metallic thingy, shaped a bit like a cigar, dropped out of Bay 87.

On the bridge of the Grantvix, Captain Grantvix grinned evilly as he watched the cannister start to float away from the ship. His evil grin was matched only by the of the captain of a large RoRo ferry that suddendly appeared from nowhere (the ferry that is, not the grin).

`YeeeeHAH!' cried Captain Jimblewix of the Strawberry Ferret, as the rather battered ferry swooped towards the Grantvix.

The SS Grantvix stayed unmoved as the ferry zoomed towards it. Captain Grantvix's grin widened at this new development. Without Newky Brown bottles the Ferret didn't stand a change.

The ferry got closer and closer, and then, almost at the last moment, the entire ship transmogrified into the biggest empty Newky Brown bottle in the entire Universe.

With a horrible sound of splintering metal and grinding glass, the two ships collided at incredible speed.

There was going to be at least one evil grin less any second now.


The flames slowly licked the smouldering logs in a slow, sensuous fashion. Professor Moley slowly wobbled on top of the ladder in a slow, wobbly fashion.

He carefully prized out a tiny leather-bound volume entitled Shurnicornae, and crawled down the ladder.

`Is that it?' asked Emmy impatiently.
`The only known copy that there is,' replied Moley irritably.

With a tiny creak, the gold-edged pages of the little book opened. The text was in an ancient, barely readable typeface.

`Umm I haven't got my glasses' mumbled Moley.
`Here, let me,' offered Polar superheroely.


Sun glinted off a cloud of slowly spinning debris. In a nearby spaceship, a wickedly sharp set of teeth grinned out from a small, furry face.


Hilbert and Oscar found themselves in Omco, the store that sells everything (or so it claims). The book had told them to get eye of newt, leg of New Zealand lamb, half-a-kilo of used photocopier toner and a copy of the Pelvic Wombat album Pustulent Eruptions. They managed to find most of what they needed, although the leg of New Zealand lamb was hidden behind some packets of Dehydrated Trains that Run on Time (Just Add Water and Two Billion Pounds).

They had to ask at the counter for the Pelvic Wombat album at the counter.

`Umm have you got Pustulent Eruptions?' asked Oscar.
`Yes,' said the shop assistant.
`So I see' grooed Polar.
`Thud' fainted Oscar.


`Right all we need now is a Rolex watch and a large cauldron.'
`Umm" said Hilbert as he dematerialised, and then rematerialised in a fit of guilt, `like this one?'

`Right, we just need a cauldron now.'
`Oh well we're buggered then,' said Oscar tripping over a large metal object by the door.


Somewhere in the upper atmosphere, something was stirring. It was, in fact, a huge plastic spoon skimming over the upper atmosphere. The Strawberry Ferret shaked and bumped its way into the thin layer of polluted air.

Captain Jimblewix tucked into his Jaffa Cake as the ship made another pass over the city of Broom.

`All scans are negative, Captain' said McVax in his best Star Trek voice. `Where the fuck has he got to? We've got a gig on Gauda Prime in six hours.' `Oh well, we'd better practice without him.'

So they did.

Whump whump whump whump
Whump whump whump whump

Yo! Beam me up
And beam me down
Beam me into rock
Way underground
Don't care as long
There's a wobbly sound
Yo! Beam me up
And beam me down.

But the song was so crap they decided to go and have a cup of tea and a choccy biscuit instead. Unfortunately in doing this they missed spotting a large cigar shaped canister that was in a slowly decaying orbit above the planet.


The cauldron contained a foul grey liquid, that splatted and bubbled in a highly disgusting manner.

`You want me to drink that?' asked Tuesday.
`Umm yes. And drink it all mind, else it won't work properly.'
`So what exactly will it do to me?'
`Well, according to this book, it will enhance your powers, put hairs on your chest and put you in touch with a higher astral plane. Have a straw.' Polar passed Tuesday one of those really naff curly plastic straws that were around in the 70s.

Tuesday put the straw in the cauldron, and carefully sucked on one end. The foul grey liquid looped up the straw towards his mouth. And then...

...something bubbled. Something gurgled. Tuesday's whole alimentary tract began to heave in response to the horrific liquid being poured into it

`All of it. Else it won't work!'

With a considerable amount of slurping, Tuesday finished off the nasty bubbling stuff and then started to go a sickly green sort of colour.

And as Tuesday got greener and greener some other amazing things started to happen. Emmy's beak started to get less and less plasticky. The latex doll got less and less latexy. The little furry ball turned into a little furry ball with a splitting headache. The little mule shaped toy started to turn into a large mule shaped mule. Doug the Slug magically transformed out from the metal cauldron, which was handy since I'd forgotten about him. A couple of foxes began to stir. A short while, and a HUGE special effects budget passed, and everybody was back to normal, apart from Tuesday who was now looking very green indeed.

`Are you alright, Tuesday?' asked Hilbert.
`Bleeeuuuurrgh!' replied Tuesday as he sicked up all over Emilia.
`Thanks' replied Emmy `you've just made my day.'
`Ooops' fretted Moley `is it still going to work?'

Nothing happened.

`Ooops' fretted Moley (again) `is it still going to work?'

Almost on cue, the Answerball dropped down the chimney.

`Well, it's almost going to work now. Except that there are going to be a couple of problems. Firstly, Tuesday's special powers are only going to work after half a dozen bottles of Diamond Green. And the others will have a habit of slipping into their changed states in moments of extreme stress.'

`Coo. Now all we have to do is wait for the rest of the loose ends to be tied up.'

So they waited for a bit.


But they didn't have to wait for long, because the ever-vigilant crew of the Strawberry Ferret were playing Risk on the ship's computer, and they had totally failed to notice the large metal canister with the letters PLAN 87B engraved on it. This was bad news because it was straight in front of the Ferret.

There was a hideous crunch as the oversized teaspoon hit the cigar shaped thingy.

				 OH FUCK

said the ship's computer in very large letters across the main viewer screen.


it added, as the ship started to spiral out of control.

Now, onboard a proper spaceship the conversation would be going something like this:
`Engage automatic retro dampers!'
`Automatic retro dampers not responding, sir.'
`Activate primary deflective field!'
`Primary deflective field is inoperable at this time.'
`Engage reverse impulse power units!'
Etcetera etcetera.

On board the Strawberry Ferret, the conversation went more as follows:
And so on.

And then the ship ploughed into the ground, tore through a small wood, cartwheel three times and came to rest half way down a gravel drive outside a nasty gothic-looing building.

`What the fuck was that?! swore Professor Moley as the above events happened outside the Institute.

`Excuse me,' commented Emilia, `but we've mentioned the word ``fuck'' seven times in this chapter so far.'
`Umm eight' interruped Polar, trying not to feel self-conscious about wearing his underpants outside his tights.
`Fuck off. Nine. Anyway, can we try and finish off the saga in a more polite fashion?'
`Certainly Emilia,' said Hilbert politely.

There was a knock on the door.

`Do come in.'

The door opened. Standing outside were McVax, Zeroc, Jimblewix and Shritwod, who were all (apparently) members of the band Pelvic Wombat.

`Well well, there you are Miggy my friend. We have been looking for you all over the place because we might be a teensy bit late for our gig.'
`Oh deary me!' said Miggy `I am terribly sorry. I will come along right away.'

There was another knock on the door.

`Do come in.'

The door opened. Standing outside was a brain-damaged twelve-foot-high man-eating (and furry animal-eating) alien.

`Good evening, said the alien, `I'm a little bit peturbed about having my brains smeared all over the place. I'm afraid I'm going to have to be a tiny bit violent with you.'
`Oh deary me! said Miggy, and he fainted.
`Douglas, I hate to disturb you, but I've often looked on you as being some sort of anti-tank howitzer,' suggested Polar, `is that alright?
`No problem at all' replied Doug the anti-tank howitzer as he loosed off half a dozen rounds at the alien. `Oh, I am most terribly sorry, Mr Alien, I hope you don't mind.'
`No, it's quite alright' said the alien as he disintegrated into a million bits.


Two cups of tea and a slice of dundee cake later, Tuesday and his friends waved goodbye to the Strawberry Ferret as it took off for its gig on Gauda Prime (the Federation's after us but we've still got time to rhyme).

`Well, Tuesday my dear chap, we've had quite an adventure!'
`Yes, we helped save the planet from the Hoomins' said Tuesday
`And Cthulu and his mob' added Doug.
`We visited the Black Large' continued Tuesday.
`And lots of other fun things too!'
`So what shall we do now?' asked Tuesday.
`How the fuck should I know?' replied Emmy.


The canister fell through the atmosphere. At an altitude of about half-a-mile, a parachute emerged, and the container started to drift down towards the southern part of the city of Broom. Eventually it landed in a small wood with a large gash in it.

The metal tube lay on the ground, underneath the parachute's canopy that had caught in the trees. With a fizz and a glow, the chute metamorphised into a camouflage net. Owls began to gather. Time started to pass. The canister waited.



(for now)



Tuesday opened his eyes, and saw that he was in a room lined with green curtains like the Black Large. A caption flashed up in front of him:


There were two armchairs across the room; in one of them sat the Twig Lady, and in the other sat two foxes. Tuesday blinked.
`She makes the blue smarties,' said one fox cryptically.
`But it's Kim Bolton,' Tuesday pointed out, without knowing why. `Are you Kim Bolton?'

Kim walked across the room. She bent over and kissed Tuesday, and his horn flashed blue as if he had been drinking Diamond Green. Then she whispered something in his ear.

Music swelled in the background, and the two foxes started to dance the tango. It seemed to Tuesday that the following text scrolled up in front of them:


	Tuesday the Shunicorn
	Hilbert the Horse
	Oscar the (green) Badger
	Doug the slug etc.
	Captain Polar the Superhero
	Myfanwy the Amazing Performing Mule
	The Twig Lady
	Mooklj the Boggle (PizzaVile's delivery alien)
	Migglezimblatt the Wombat
	Eric the bug-eyed monster from Mars
	Jimmy Hendryx the Genie
	The Answerball
	Emilia the Duck Billed Platypus
	The Blue Smarties
	Professor Moley

	Fred Fox			[blown into another dimension]
	Jim Fox
	Sheila Fox
	Cthulhu the Chef		[turned into a glove puppet]
	Jeremy Beedle			[killed by death-rays]
	Dracula the chairfiend of CHAOS	[killed by a steak through the heart]
	Grantvix the Hoomin/s		[blown up mainly]
	Whelkfibble the Hoomin/s	[turned into soft toys]
	Ellis Bart the Physicist	[turned into a cute plastic figure]
	The Minogue Demons		[retired after hearing Pelvic Wombat]
	Kelvin the Shark		[in the surreal world]
	Certain Death

	A broomoi
	Colonel Saunders, c-i-c SAS, TA, National Guard, RNLI.
	Sanny of PizzaVile
	Ordley the SPARCStation
	Parkplatz the tall bearded SERF revolutionary
	Kevin the Elephant
	The Villa Supporters
	A small ant
	A medium sized garden snail

Then there was a fade to black.