out of the leerdammer pops a head. a ginger head (with a ginger beard and everything).
it peers around and is lifted out further, followed by shoulders and arms and kilted legs.
Hamish MacDougall stands tall, holds the bagpipes nervously to his lips and blows. they emit an excruciatingly high squeal, and he hastily stops.
"och noo," he mutters, "tha's not the player tha' used to be, MacDougall"
"did you call?" asks Nu Nu, hovering above the cheese
"noo i di'nay call no elephant," replies Hamish.
"you just did it again,"
"noo"
"and again"
Hamish is not a man to be messed with. He is a bagpipe player with perfect pitch. He picks up Nu Nu and hurls him into the duck pond. Turning away he rubs his hands together. "tha'll ta'ch im tae muss wi' 'a harra' crum'bli'n scoot lach mon hoots ya wee sassenach."
Sunday, August 20, 2006
ch04) earlier 2.30 pm
Through the stillness of the wood there came a haunting melody, the sound of someone playing a pipe. Zobe was mesmerized. She walked along the path in a daze, trying to work out where the music was coming from. The mice and Gimli followed, equally overcome by its beauty.
Soon they came out of the woods and to some rolling hills. They could still hear the music, and as they were starting to walk up the hill they met a leerdammer (Dutch cheese with holes) “over die heuvels!” he shouted, “en verre van hier!”
“Exactly!” replied Zobe, trying to make the newcomer feel welcome, “more uber those herbles indeedy!”
They reached the top of the hill, still pursuing (trivially) that remarkable music. Zobe could see the music makers.
She whipped out her ironing board and surfed down the hill after the teletubbies. But alas, she never quite reached them. A freak wave washed her eastwards and set her down many miles away, still clutching the wig, next to a kindly old lady. The leerdammer, the mice, Gimli and the pied Tubbies of Hamelin were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they were all together somewhere and had decided to set up a traveling circus. We’ll never know.
“Hello.” Said the tortoise, “I’m supposed to add comedy value. Apparently. Don’t see it, myself. I mean, sure, you’d think crazy talking tortoises would be funny, wouldn’t you? But what if I don’t want to be funny? I don’t know. My cousins could all do it. They’d add fun to any story. But not me. I’d rather just sit at home and read the papers. Sad, isn’t it?”
It should be pointed out about now that Shelly, the crazy talking tortoise, has no real role in this story. Just in case you were wondering. She is merely being added to distract from the *plot* (or lack thereof). She will not, rest assured, turn up later in an unexpectedly key role. There is nothing whatsoever to read into her gibbering. Or if there is, it’ll be a real surprise now, won’t it!?
Squeak
Soon they came out of the woods and to some rolling hills. They could still hear the music, and as they were starting to walk up the hill they met a leerdammer (Dutch cheese with holes) “over die heuvels!” he shouted, “en verre van hier!”
“Exactly!” replied Zobe, trying to make the newcomer feel welcome, “more uber those herbles indeedy!”
They reached the top of the hill, still pursuing (trivially) that remarkable music. Zobe could see the music makers.
She whipped out her ironing board and surfed down the hill after the teletubbies. But alas, she never quite reached them. A freak wave washed her eastwards and set her down many miles away, still clutching the wig, next to a kindly old lady. The leerdammer, the mice, Gimli and the pied Tubbies of Hamelin were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they were all together somewhere and had decided to set up a traveling circus. We’ll never know.“Hello.” Said the tortoise, “I’m supposed to add comedy value. Apparently. Don’t see it, myself. I mean, sure, you’d think crazy talking tortoises would be funny, wouldn’t you? But what if I don’t want to be funny? I don’t know. My cousins could all do it. They’d add fun to any story. But not me. I’d rather just sit at home and read the papers. Sad, isn’t it?”
It should be pointed out about now that Shelly, the crazy talking tortoise, has no real role in this story. Just in case you were wondering. She is merely being added to distract from the *plot* (or lack thereof). She will not, rest assured, turn up later in an unexpectedly key role. There is nothing whatsoever to read into her gibbering. Or if there is, it’ll be a real surprise now, won’t it!?
Squeak
Thursday, July 20, 2006
ch11) later 10pm
“…for Greg, a new member of the society. We have a special welcome balloon for you Greg! This year’s design is, I think you’ll agree, one of the most interesting we’ve ever had. The salmon pink and the mint go so beautifully together. Come on up, Greg.”
To deafening applause Greg walks to the front to receive his balloon.
“Congratulations!
“We are also awarding the second prize in our beauty contest - the mesmerising memorial balloon for services to beauty – to Zobe.”
Zobe blushes and hurries to the front. Treading in something warm and squishy, Zobe realizes with regret that she neglected to put on any shoes today.
“Treasure it most carefully and let it bask in your beauty. Truly this is the most amazing balloon ever.”
“So what was the first prize then, if this is the most amazing balloon ever?” asks Zobe.
Confused, the alifonts look at each other. “We’ve never actually awarded a first prize,” mutters Phil, shuffling self-conciously.
There is an awkward silence.
“And for everybody here today we have a golden SSAB (secret society for the appreciation of balloons) 20th anniversary balloon. These really are something else.”
He hands out the shiny balloons with glee. There is a lot of pushing and shoving and treading on each others' feet. But eventually it seems that everyone has one.
“OK!” shouts Phil, over the chattering, “it’s time for the jelly and ice cream. Who wants?”
To deafening applause Greg walks to the front to receive his balloon.
“Congratulations!
“We are also awarding the second prize in our beauty contest - the mesmerising memorial balloon for services to beauty – to Zobe.”
Zobe blushes and hurries to the front. Treading in something warm and squishy, Zobe realizes with regret that she neglected to put on any shoes today.
“Treasure it most carefully and let it bask in your beauty. Truly this is the most amazing balloon ever.”
“So what was the first prize then, if this is the most amazing balloon ever?” asks Zobe.
Confused, the alifonts look at each other. “We’ve never actually awarded a first prize,” mutters Phil, shuffling self-conciously.
There is an awkward silence.
“And for everybody here today we have a golden SSAB (secret society for the appreciation of balloons) 20th anniversary balloon. These really are something else.”
He hands out the shiny balloons with glee. There is a lot of pushing and shoving and treading on each others' feet. But eventually it seems that everyone has one.
“OK!” shouts Phil, over the chattering, “it’s time for the jelly and ice cream. Who wants?”
Monday, July 10, 2006
ch03) earlier 12.00pm
In square 41 she found herself outside of a police station, facing a flustered looking detective. Who, unusually, suddenly brightened up at the sight of Zobe.
“’Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello,” he said, “ it’s not often one sees a lovely young lady walking around such a fetching pet wig. I don’t suppose you’d be available this afternoon to help the police a bit?”
Zobe considered all the things she had planned to do with her day. Things like wandering round aimlessly and shouting at pigeons.
She decided to sacrifice this day of fun to help protect her fellow man.
“I’ll do it!” she said. The detective told her there had been a murder at the manor house, and gave her directions and a map! (no corners cut in this story!)
Zobe and her wig smiled at the detective and promised to do their best. They set off together with an air of adventure and excitement around them.
After going the second left, first right, right at the traffic lights, left by the big tree, round the roundabout, across the river (without a bridge or a boat), along the third fork and right into the wood… Zobe spotted something very worrying. There was a strange contraption just at the side of the road. With a slight sense of foreboding, Zobe decided to investigate.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed, “you poor things!”
The mice were just skin and bone, trapped for weeks, it seemed, in these tiny cages. Zobe tried to get lift the cages but there was a complicated locking mechanism. She walked around, hoping to find a clue (‘cos she didn’t have one) and, much to her surprise, found Gimli trapped in one of the cages, his axe thrown into a nearby bush. Zobe picked it up and with great strength and even greater accuracy cut through the cage and set the dwarf free. He was not as thankful as one might have expected. But he did help Zobe to get the mice out. She did not use the axe to cut them loose. That would have been too easy. Instead, she and Gimli constructed a highly elaborate device from an old stop sign, a boot, a bucket, a drainpipe, a helping hand, a crank, a diving board and diver, a gutter, a staircase and a ball bearing.
Having realised too late that they had walked straight into a trap, they used Gimli’s laser beam eyesight to cut their way free and let the mice out too.
Quite why Gimli had sat in the cage for such a long time when he had laser beam eyesight nobody is sure. Perhaps he just wanted to meet Zobe. And who could blame him, she’s such a lovely balloon-headed doll.
“’Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello,” he said, “ it’s not often one sees a lovely young lady walking around such a fetching pet wig. I don’t suppose you’d be available this afternoon to help the police a bit?”
Zobe considered all the things she had planned to do with her day. Things like wandering round aimlessly and shouting at pigeons.
She decided to sacrifice this day of fun to help protect her fellow man.
“I’ll do it!” she said. The detective told her there had been a murder at the manor house, and gave her directions and a map! (no corners cut in this story!)
Zobe and her wig smiled at the detective and promised to do their best. They set off together with an air of adventure and excitement around them.
After going the second left, first right, right at the traffic lights, left by the big tree, round the roundabout, across the river (without a bridge or a boat), along the third fork and right into the wood… Zobe spotted something very worrying. There was a strange contraption just at the side of the road. With a slight sense of foreboding, Zobe decided to investigate.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed, “you poor things!”
The mice were just skin and bone, trapped for weeks, it seemed, in these tiny cages. Zobe tried to get lift the cages but there was a complicated locking mechanism. She walked around, hoping to find a clue (‘cos she didn’t have one) and, much to her surprise, found Gimli trapped in one of the cages, his axe thrown into a nearby bush. Zobe picked it up and with great strength and even greater accuracy cut through the cage and set the dwarf free. He was not as thankful as one might have expected. But he did help Zobe to get the mice out. She did not use the axe to cut them loose. That would have been too easy. Instead, she and Gimli constructed a highly elaborate device from an old stop sign, a boot, a bucket, a drainpipe, a helping hand, a crank, a diving board and diver, a gutter, a staircase and a ball bearing.
Having realised too late that they had walked straight into a trap, they used Gimli’s laser beam eyesight to cut their way free and let the mice out too.
Quite why Gimli had sat in the cage for such a long time when he had laser beam eyesight nobody is sure. Perhaps he just wanted to meet Zobe. And who could blame him, she’s such a lovely balloon-headed doll.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
ch12) later 10.40pm
“OK!” shouts Phil, “it’s time for the jelly and ice cream. Who wants?”
Alliefonts are ice cream loving fools, so everyone at the party leaps up at these words and rushes towards Al, who is standing by the freezer. He opens the door and gasps, “the ice cream has gone!”
Phil turns to the crowd with a thunderous expression on his face.
“Who has eaten ice cream today without asking?” he demands. “It must be someone we know or the ice cream princess would not have taken the sacrifice from our freezer. Own up!!!”
There is nothing to be heard except the sound of shuffling feet and a few nervous coughs. Eventually Zobe steps forwards.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, shakily, “I don’t understand. I don’t know anything about an ice cream princess… But I did eat some ice cream today. It was given to me by an old lady today called Gladys.”
“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK THAT NAME!!!!” cries Phil, but on seeing that her confusion is genuine he tries to explain. “We elephants are the keepers of the ice cream, and the woman of whom you speak is our arch enemy. You are a silly child to be taken in by her.”
He pauses for a moment and his face softens. “But you did not know,” he says, “and you seem sorry now. Do not make the same mistake again.”
He turns away, and without another word Al starts serving up dishes of jelly. No one grumbles, and they sit down together to enjoy the end of the party. The balloons have all gone slightly limp and wrinkly (a bit like the elifants) but no one has really noticed. The sun is still hot and the jelly is wibbling peacefully…
Alliefonts are ice cream loving fools, so everyone at the party leaps up at these words and rushes towards Al, who is standing by the freezer. He opens the door and gasps, “the ice cream has gone!”
Phil turns to the crowd with a thunderous expression on his face.
“Who has eaten ice cream today without asking?” he demands. “It must be someone we know or the ice cream princess would not have taken the sacrifice from our freezer. Own up!!!”
There is nothing to be heard except the sound of shuffling feet and a few nervous coughs. Eventually Zobe steps forwards.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, shakily, “I don’t understand. I don’t know anything about an ice cream princess… But I did eat some ice cream today. It was given to me by an old lady today called Gladys.”
“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK THAT NAME!!!!” cries Phil, but on seeing that her confusion is genuine he tries to explain. “We elephants are the keepers of the ice cream, and the woman of whom you speak is our arch enemy. You are a silly child to be taken in by her.”
He pauses for a moment and his face softens. “But you did not know,” he says, “and you seem sorry now. Do not make the same mistake again.”
He turns away, and without another word Al starts serving up dishes of jelly. No one grumbles, and they sit down together to enjoy the end of the party. The balloons have all gone slightly limp and wrinkly (a bit like the elifants) but no one has really noticed. The sun is still hot and the jelly is wibbling peacefully…
Friday, June 23, 2006
ch02) earlier 10.30am
Zobe went downstairs and into the kitchen, closely followed by a small friendly cat called Mr. Kibbles. In the kitchen Zobe rolled the dice with eager anticipation, and much to her delight she found herself climbing up a ladder to number 34, having narrowly avoided a boa constrictor in number 32. She hadn’t yet noticed the Mexican grass snake occupying square 35, but we don’t need to worry about that for a little while.
She found an invitation on the billiards table:
“Do we need to establish that Ellie, Ollie, Oily et al. are elephantes?” inquired Ben.
“Yeh I guess so,” replies Judy, resigned now to the inevitable interruptions.
THEY ARE ELEPHANTS. It’s also useful to note at this point that all eliphants are balloon fanatics and have a network of secret balloon societies throughout the world. Balloons add meaning to an olifent’s life and are the reason they are usually so calm and peaceful.
“OK, it’s established….
“ooh, except that al isn’t an illyfunkt. He’s a croc!” exclaimed Judy.
“Oh yes, sorry,” said Ben, “easy mistake to make.”
This is true. Al is, after all, a master of disguise. It’s the wig that does it.
The wig, which is excitable even at the best of times, leapt up from Al’s head and into square 34 where it encountered Zobe. “Hello!” she said, “I’ve always wanted a pet!” she caught the wig and tied a lead onto it. The wig was not impressed, but its random flailings were very useful for fighting the snake in the next square, so Zobe could continue unafraid.
Squeak said the mice.
She found an invitation on the billiards table:
“Calling all balloons and balloon enthusiasts!
We are having a party today, and would love it if you could come.
Its at 7 o’clock in the zoo. Hope you can make it, lots of love from Ellie, Ollie, Oily and Phil.”
“Do we need to establish that Ellie, Ollie, Oily et al. are elephantes?” inquired Ben.
“Yeh I guess so,” replies Judy, resigned now to the inevitable interruptions.
THEY ARE ELEPHANTS. It’s also useful to note at this point that all eliphants are balloon fanatics and have a network of secret balloon societies throughout the world. Balloons add meaning to an olifent’s life and are the reason they are usually so calm and peaceful.
“OK, it’s established….
“ooh, except that al isn’t an illyfunkt. He’s a croc!” exclaimed Judy.
“Oh yes, sorry,” said Ben, “easy mistake to make.”
This is true. Al is, after all, a master of disguise. It’s the wig that does it.
The wig, which is excitable even at the best of times, leapt up from Al’s head and into square 34 where it encountered Zobe. “Hello!” she said, “I’ve always wanted a pet!” she caught the wig and tied a lead onto it. The wig was not impressed, but its random flailings were very useful for fighting the snake in the next square, so Zobe could continue unafraid.
Squeak said the mice.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Sunday, June 04, 2006
ch13) later 10.50 pm
The balloons have all gone slightly limp and wrinkly (a bit like the elifants) but no one has really noticed. The sun is still hot and the jelly is wibbling peacefully. Al picks some albatross from his teeth. Zobe moves to straighten her dress and a piano falls out of her pocket. All eyes turn to her as she scrabbles in the dirt to retrieve it. Ollie walks forwards, with fire in his eyes, and she stands up slowly to look at him.
“You have offended us in every possible way today. we were willing to let it go on the basis of a long and happy friendship but this final insult cannot be forgotten. You have killed one of us, and now you must pay the pies.”
“But I don’t have any pies,” sobs Zobe.
“Then you must pay the ultimate price, which is what I actually meant to type in the first place,” he replies.
The others form a tight circle around them as Zobe hands over her special shimmery balloon. She falls face down to the floor, weeping pitifully.
Ollie’s foot rises up into the air, and a second later – BANG!!
Zobe’s head cracks against the concrete floor, and her body goes limp. The elephant turns and walks away…
“You have offended us in every possible way today. we were willing to let it go on the basis of a long and happy friendship but this final insult cannot be forgotten. You have killed one of us, and now you must pay the pies.”
“But I don’t have any pies,” sobs Zobe.
“Then you must pay the ultimate price, which is what I actually meant to type in the first place,” he replies.
The others form a tight circle around them as Zobe hands over her special shimmery balloon. She falls face down to the floor, weeping pitifully.
Ollie’s foot rises up into the air, and a second later – BANG!!
Zobe’s head cracks against the concrete floor, and her body goes limp. The elephant turns and walks away…
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
driving
things i saw whilst driving home today:a vertical rainbow. it wasn't just huge and very uncurvy*, it was just vertical stripes, as in the very artistic impression to the left.
a lorry driving down the hard shoulder. not in an emergency, not in trouble, just using it as an extra lane of the motorway.
one lorry taking 12 miles to overtake another lorry, causing a several hundred car tailback.
lane closed signs over a lane that didn't exist.
a wandering minstrel (it was one i dropped).
a deer.
well it livened up the journey, anyway.
--
*ok, it probably was, but that's not the point.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Very special day today!
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Zoe
Happy birthday to you!!!!
Hip-hip Hooray
Hip-hip Hooray
Hip-hip Hooray
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Zoe
Happy birthday to you!!!!
Hip-hip Hooray
Hip-hip Hooray
Hip-hip Hooray
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
upset
it's also rather upsetting that my random throwaway 5-minute picture of the google homepage with the word ben very badly superimposed on it has garnered 8 comments, whilst the amazing first two installments of what is quite possible the best story ever written has elicited a grand total of none.
shame on you zobe, it's all your fault.
shame on you zobe, it's all your fault.
lost without you
i have left my mobile phone at home today. this was not a deliberate act and it is one that is causing me much trauma. just think of all the vitally important calls i must be missing. all those unanswered text messages just sitting there waiting for a reply. that comforting feeling of knowing that i am 'in touch', no matter where i am.
how am i going to cope?
funny to think that there was a time when we survived without mobile phones.
ring ring.
how am i going to cope?
funny to think that there was a time when we survived without mobile phones.
ring ring.
complaint
more people should be appreciating this story. actual effort went in to writing this one, but i'm not sure i'll bother to post the rest until someone (ie Zoe) reads it, comments on how wonderful it is and apologises for being so useless.
in the meantime i shall write a song about useless people:
zome people are zo uzeless
others are a little bit better
everybody's a bit useless though
....guess i'll just have to get over it.
in the meantime i shall write a song about useless people:
zome people are zo uzeless
others are a little bit better
everybody's a bit useless though
....guess i'll just have to get over it.
Monday, May 15, 2006
inspiration - chapter 5
Chapter 5
The escalators weren't halfway up or down themselves either. Or at least they were, but they were both at the same time, as well as being all the way up and all the way down, along with a little tiny bit of the way down and very near the bottom. What they thought on the matter of little green men with water pistols has yet to be recorded. But it was probably a short thought. And a metallic one too.
The escalators weren't halfway up or down themselves either. Or at least they were, but they were both at the same time, as well as being all the way up and all the way down, along with a little tiny bit of the way down and very near the bottom. What they thought on the matter of little green men with water pistols has yet to be recorded. But it was probably a short thought. And a metallic one too.
ch01) the beginning 9:30 am
Zobe woke up and stretched. Sunlight poured through the windows like lumpy custard, the sky was pale blue streaked with orange and purple and she could hear a gentle wind whispering in the trees. She tutted at the gossiping wind, and as she got out of bed thoughts flicked through her mind.
“Lovely weather for Frisbee”
“Should I wear the horizontally stripy socks or the vertically stripy socks?”
And, most importantly of all, “where did I put my hat?”
“Is it a big floppy hat?” asked Ben.
“Yes. And it has a big flower on it.”
“Definitely!”
Not so sure about this Judy decided to let Zobe have a finite hat. De-finite hats are fairly cumbersome and so last season.
Back to the story…
The anticyclonic conditions caused Zobe to feel light headed (I can justify this if you like. It does work with a little pseudo-physics) and she began to dance around the room.
By the way, she decided to wear one of each of the socks. And she did wear the hat, and may or may not decide to play Frisbee.
“Lovely weather for Frisbee”
“Should I wear the horizontally stripy socks or the vertically stripy socks?”
And, most importantly of all, “where did I put my hat?”
“Is it a big floppy hat?” asked Ben.
“Yes. And it has a big flower on it.”
“Definitely!”
Not so sure about this Judy decided to let Zobe have a finite hat. De-finite hats are fairly cumbersome and so last season.
Back to the story…
The anticyclonic conditions caused Zobe to feel light headed (I can justify this if you like. It does work with a little pseudo-physics) and she began to dance around the room.
By the way, she decided to wear one of each of the socks. And she did wear the hat, and may or may not decide to play Frisbee.
news
found something out today...
the existence of microwave ovens in a useable form is undeniable proof that the universe has a creator!
and even more excitingly, i get to dress Sanjeev up as a pirate with a glittery beard on friday. which i have been trying to do all year!
Saturday, May 13, 2006
ch14) you're gonna love us...
I’ve been thinking a lot recently. Mostly about albatrosses, it’s true, but that’s not really the point.
I’ve also been thinking about how Zobe is about to be trampled to death by an angry elephant…
enjoy.
THE END
Zobe’s head cracks against the concrete floor, and her body goes limp. The elephant turns and walks away.
There’s a whisper from the crowd, “he got the wrong balloon.”
“Whoops.” Breathes Ellie
Ollie turns round and looks embarrassed. “Well…” he says, “…Worse things happen at sea, eh?”
...to have been continued...
I’ve also been thinking about how Zobe is about to be trampled to death by an angry elephant…
enjoy.
Zobe’s good day
THE END
Zobe’s head cracks against the concrete floor, and her body goes limp. The elephant turns and walks away. There’s a whisper from the crowd, “he got the wrong balloon.”
“Whoops.” Breathes Ellie
Ollie turns round and looks embarrassed. “Well…” he says, “…Worse things happen at sea, eh?”
...to have been continued...
Monday, April 24, 2006
inspiration - chapter 4
Chapter 4
Agatha Christie wasn't halfway up or halfway down an escalator in Woolworths. She wasn't even in Woolworths. Not that she didn't like Woolworths, she often shopped there. She was especially partial to their two for the price of one offer on Mint Poppets. She couldn't abide the toffee ones though, her teeth weren't what they used to be. Still, that's what came of being over one thousand years old and having been born well before toothbrushes were invented.
As she sat soaking up the sun in the well appointed garden shed in Hampsted where she lived, she was startled by her telephone ringing. It was Arthur, her friend from the Telegraph who kept her up to date on the latest news.
"Hi Agatha", he said, "heard the latest news?"
"You mean the government's new initiative on crime?" She asked.
"No," replied Arthur, "the sudden disappearance of all the advertising executives in Islington".
Stunned, Agatha let the phone drop. The sudden disappearance of all the advertising executives in Islington could only mean one thing: that all the advertising executives in Islington had suddenly disappeared. Pausing only to grab her helmet and her A to Z, Agatha jumped on her green scooter and headed for Islington. Sure enough, a quick scan of the witterometer led her to the back garden of "Dunadvertising", where she was just in time to knock out a little green man with a water pistol as he materialised on the lawn.
"Are you still there?", said Arthur.
Agatha Christie wasn't halfway up or halfway down an escalator in Woolworths. She wasn't even in Woolworths. Not that she didn't like Woolworths, she often shopped there. She was especially partial to their two for the price of one offer on Mint Poppets. She couldn't abide the toffee ones though, her teeth weren't what they used to be. Still, that's what came of being over one thousand years old and having been born well before toothbrushes were invented.
As she sat soaking up the sun in the well appointed garden shed in Hampsted where she lived, she was startled by her telephone ringing. It was Arthur, her friend from the Telegraph who kept her up to date on the latest news.
"Hi Agatha", he said, "heard the latest news?"
"You mean the government's new initiative on crime?" She asked.
"No," replied Arthur, "the sudden disappearance of all the advertising executives in Islington".
Stunned, Agatha let the phone drop. The sudden disappearance of all the advertising executives in Islington could only mean one thing: that all the advertising executives in Islington had suddenly disappeared. Pausing only to grab her helmet and her A to Z, Agatha jumped on her green scooter and headed for Islington. Sure enough, a quick scan of the witterometer led her to the back garden of "Dunadvertising", where she was just in time to knock out a little green man with a water pistol as he materialised on the lawn.
"Are you still there?", said Arthur.
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