The Rip in the Fabric of the Universe ...

.. surprised him by performing a distinctly Regency bow. Waving his hand foppishly above his head, Staines brought it down below knee level, simultaneously placing one foot behind him and bowing at the waist.

"Prithee Sir Hornblower!" quoth he. "May I be first to congratulate your honour on your elevation to the captaincy. Gramercy and hurrah!"

The crew were taken completely aback by this totally unexpected display of gallantry from Staines. In unison they said:

"We are taken completely aback by this totally unexpected display of gallantry from Staines!"

Meanwhile, the Mother Farcquar ...

was about to remonstrate and be her usual bolshie self but to her amazement she wasn't allowed to because Fellatio cried...

"Bosun Bastard, be so good as to clap yon harriden in irons and consign her to the orlop deck"

"Aye aye Cap'n" said Bastard as he simultainiously tugged his forelock and manhandled the bulk of Mother Farquar down the companionway .

The rest of the crew, having witnessed these carryings on, were a tad nervous as it had suddenly becomne clear that in Fellatio they had a skipper to be reckoned with.

Master Bates .....

... shook his head in astonishment and pulled himself together (which, in his case, made a change........ However, we'll skip lightly over that one and get back to the narrative).

Things had obviously changed. In Hornblower the ship had a captain who was decisive and capable, it seemed. Bates approved of this.

Staines, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. Bates watched him promenading about the maindeck with a powdered peruke wig atop his crusty old scone, waving a lace handkerchief, bowing to all and sundry and taking copious amounts of snuff.

"La, sir!" chirruped Beau Staines, the putative Regency dandy, to Leading Artificer Groans. "Would you do me the signal honour to take snuff with me? AAAAAAAHHHHHHCHOOOOO!"

He sneezed a great brown cloud of some noxious irritant in Groans' general direction. Groans leapt backwards to avoid the fallout and trod heavily on his arquebus - which he had propped against a bulwark. The ancient firearm promptly discharged a fusillade of nutritious and freshly-mixed muesli across the poop. It narrowly missed everyone but was the cause of not inconsiderable controversy for more than a few moments.

"Groans!' roared Hornblower. "Groans, there! Lay aft to the poop deck and bring that damn' fool Staines with ye!"

Groans ...

was about to make a monumentous comment when suddenly the stardust fairy appeared and with a flick of her wand all aboard the VGLI fell fast asleep transfixed in time waiting for someonr to break the spell............zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

And Lo! The spell was broken.

Stretching a somnolent leg, Staines awoke and belied his new-found Regency fop persona by cracking a tremendous fart.

Such was the momentously bass nature of this horrendous thrombugler that the very timbers of the vessel shivered from masthead to keelson.

The crew were jolted from their ....

Sally clapped her hands.

"Wasn't that the poorest segue we've ever experinced children?"

She enquired.

Tarquin ...

... who had bitten his tongue quite severely upon hearing of Staines' latest digestive transgressions, leapt to his feet:-

"Mith!" he lisped loudly, encumbered as he was by a tongue swollen to twice its normal size competing with the ill-fitting braces on his teeth. "Mith! I do feel that the authorth of thith thtwange thtorwy ought not to thpend time dethcwibing Thtaineth'th appalling habitth. Ith dithguthting!"

Sebastian was not particularly thrilled with Tarquin's outburst. He sat directly in front of Tarquin which put him well within effective spray range. He stood up carefully, wiping the back of his neck with his handkerchief. Turning, he fixed Tarquin with a gimlet eye and said, through clenched jaws:

"Pipe down, pipsqueak! No-one's interested in your half-witted pronouncements - and if you spray me once more with your manky spittle, I'll staple your buttocks together with your rotten teeth braces!"

Susan ....

was taken aback and then forwards but before she could deal with Sebastians outburst a dark fearsome shadow was cast over........

... the maindeck of the Very Little Gravitas Indeed.

Susan resumed reading:-

Yes! It was Her Horrible Self! The Mother Farcquar had been awakened, as had the ship's entire complement, by Staines' bottom and its fearsome output.

She lumbered across to where he lay in that half-awake, half-asleep state that most of us experience when morning breaks. However, poor Staines did not slowly come fully awake to the cheerful sound of the morning lark. Instead, he received yet another swift kick in the short ribs. This time delivered by the Mother Farcquar:

"Was that you?" she demanded. "Was that you who did that terrible brump? ANSWER ME!"

"Wha..?" Staines was perplexed. He ....

reached for his periwig but alas it had all been a dream and he wasn't a Regency fop at all, just a flatulent ne'er do well seaman.

Depressed at this sudden realisation of his station in life, Staines took the opportunity to make misery for the only unfortunate actually lower than he on the VLGI.

"Aha, young Roger!" he cried, with, it must be said, a rather evil glint in his eye, "berth yon buttocks alongside the good ship Staines for I have task for thee".

Roger was mortified. "Oh no" he thought to himself "not....

...another round of nominative determinism. Why couldn't I have been called Roland Rich, or some other pleasant vocation?"
His reverie was interrupted by the martinet Captain Hornblower. "You think you have problems! Ever since I was a junior midshipman I've had my unfortunate name shoved down my throat. And what about poor Bosun Bastard? Imagine if he'd been born to the Limpwrist family, instead of being born a Bastard? Just settle down young feller, there's lots worse things than finding Seaman Staines in your bed."

The Mother Farcquar, who had been listening with interest to this tirade, interrupted with...

... her customary grace and tact.

"What a lot of bollocks!" quoth she. "You've always been a fathead, Hornblower! Just because you've somehow become a captain hasn't changed any....errk!"

She was in turn interrupted by several of Sponcracker's droids who yanked her off her feet and carried her off to the brig.

"Thank you, Sponcracker," said Hornblower. "I was ....

about to say that the cook Captain Cook-Bastard has spied a sail from the Crow's Nest"

At this unexpected news a murmour that rapidly approached a hubub borke out among the crew.

Great was their excitement and talking over each other and interrupting each other they pressed Fellatio for details.

At length, when the clamour had at last died down he addressed them.

"Yes, a sail. Cook-Bastard has clearly spied what appears to be a 74 gun ship of the line. However, the bad news is that she's flying the Tricolour".

"Aha, bloody Frenchies!" cried Lieutenant Colonel Frontbottom "I thought...

... they might turn up just before we discover hawstraylia.

However, although several members of the crew were distracted by the sudden appearance of a Frog man 'o' war, stouter hearts aboard the Very Little Gravitas Indeed were not at all put out.

Muttering a phrase that had sprung, unbidden, into the forefront of what passed for his mind, to whit (anybody who is tempted to add "to woo" will be keel-hauled) .... I repeat, to whit:

"Cheese-eating surrender monkeys!"

Groans sprang to the portside gunwales, lifted a loudhailer to his salty old mush and, pointing the instrument at the French ship, yelled:-

"BOO!!'

in stentorian tones.

The effect was instantaneous and dramatic. The Frenchie's sails spilled air, she luffed, she yawed, she came about, she bloody near disappeared up her own transom...... White flags of surrender burst out in a flurry all over her upper yards.

"I say, Groans!" said Frontbottom. "Well done! Looks like the Frogs have given up!"

Just then ....

"Land Ho!" cried Cook-Bastard from the Crow's nest.

"Where away?" shouted Fellatio as he hurried up the companionway to the poop.

"Five points off the starboard bow" returned Cook-Bastard.

Rushing to the starboard rail, Fellatio was horrified to see that not only was land most definitely ho but the Very Little Gravitas Indeed was in fact
bearing directly toward a rather large pile of extremely sharp and nasty looking rocks.

Not only that but as the sea boiled and churned and crashed over the rocks on sailed the VLGI under full canvas reducing the distance between her and destruction by the second!

"Master Bates!" bellowed Fellatio as he sprang toward the wheel "you fool, you'll kill us all!"

"Hmppf, wha, whasat?" went Bates, waking from the rather disturbing dream he'd been having involving the Mother Farquar, a goat and a barrel of lard.

Roughly shoving Bates out of the way, Fellatio grabbed the wheel and swung it hard a port. Slowly the VLGI's bow began to swing away from the rocks but alas it was already too late.

With an almighty crash the ship hit the rocks! Timbers splintered, spars twisted and sheets shattered.

Frontbottom was thrown forward violently, collecting poor old Groans amidships. "Umph, argh, splat" went Groans as he hit the deck face first.

Seaman Staines .....

awoke and found it was only a dream and that he had tipped the contents of MF's chamberpot overhimself 'Bugger now what will we do for morning tea " he thought as he picked

splinters of oak from his backside and chunks of oakum from his ears.

"I wonder where this came from?" he thought to himself

"Staines" bellowed Hornblower "stop picking your bum and get your useless carcase to the quarterdeck. Can't you see we're on the rocks?"

"B-but that was just a dream" stammered Staines. "It was no dream you scurvy dog!" replied Fellatio. "We're in real danger of going down."

Upon hearing these fateful words from the Captain, Roger the Cabin Boy....

... started to twitch nervously. Just as he thought things were getting worse, a ripping noise was heard (which meant, although no-one knew it yet, that Roger was right - things were getting worse).

As ever, the ripping noise preceded something strange. A very odd figure materialised on the poop deck.

It was a tall, shambolic person, strangely attired. On his head he wore a cap that seemed to be made from fox fur (one wonders why?). His upper torso was clad in a rusty chainmail waistcoat over a startlingly clean white tee shirt. He wore no trousers - instead a long, tatty tartan kilt was slung about his waist. In front of this unappetising garment hung what was undoubtedly a lady's PVC handbag in place of a sporran. He had a long pole in his right hand and a scruffy, stuffed dead magpie was sewn loosely onto his left shoulder.

"G'day shipmates!" quoth this odd fellow. "Dogsbreath Mechanical Engineer at your service. Perhaps I can help."

He waved his pole aloft.

The ship, about to crash onto the rocks, halted its plummeting progress and veered away to safety.

Well ....

...that's some pole you've got there" said an old slapper around the back of the pub, I'll only charge you 2 bucks for a quick slide.....

DZZZZT-dzzzt - DZZZT - WAH-wah- DDDDZZZZZZZZttttt!

From all the atmospherics, it was apparent that there was a major disturbance in the Rip. Even to those on the poop deck - accustomed as they were to strangeness in all its infinite forms - hearing the disembodied voice of some aging person of ill-repute emanating apparently from licensed premises was a surprise.

Hornblower shook his head, concentrated hard on the bloke in the kilt and the chain-mail weskit and said:

"Thank you. Pulling us clear of those rocks was a remarkable feat. I don't know how you managed it but: Thank you."

"No worries, mate." replied Dogsbreath.

"Er ...." Hornblower was clearly reluctant to give voice to what was on his mind.

"Spit her out, cobber!" said Dogsbreath. "If you keep it to yerself, yer'll wind up constipated!"

"Well," said Fellatio. "I was wondering. Are you, by any chance, Australian? And also, you seem to be wearing a hat made from fox fur. Why is that?"

"Well, mate. To answer the first part of your question, I'll quote a bit of verse from me old mate Bazza McKenzie:

I'll tell yer straight
I'm Australian, mate
And I feel like getting plastered.
But this beer's crook
And the girls all look
Like you, Yer Pommy bastard!

As for me hat, it's like this. I told all me mates I was leavin' and they asked where I was goin'. To Invercockieleekie, I said. And they all said the same thing: 'Wear the fox hat'. That's what they all said. Fair dinkum. So I did."

Well...

..the crew upon the poop deck did pass their shifty eyes betwixt one t'other, and with a wink to the good Captain, the Bosun yelled forth "Roll out the barrel, me lads!! It might'n be Sundy, but let's drink to the health o' this Dogsbreath and his wise mate McKenzie!"
With that hearty call, the crew moved...

... down the various companionways (trampling the various companions as they passed, of course) and spliced (sploce?) the mainbrace.

This left an interesting group on the poop (The Poop Group, one might say - if one was so inclined, of course. Otherwise, one might skip lightly past this rather obvious piece of contrived phonics and get bloody on with it).

The group consisted of - reading from taffrail to binnacle:-

Several hamsters (looking, for no obvious reason, festive)
Seaman Staines (looking at Roger)
Roger the Cabin Boy (looking distinctly wary)
Leading Artificer Groans (looking for fresh muesli for his arquebus)
Nursing Sister Bo'sun Bastard (see - you'd forgotten that the Bo'sun had been transmogrified, hadn't you?)
Lieutenant-Colonel Frontbottom (RM) (looking self-satisfied)
Captain Fellatio Hornblower (looking at the compass heading)
Dogsbreath Mechanical Engineer (looking very pleased with himself - one wonders why?)

Anyone missing? Eh? ....Well, actually.....yes.

The crew is all below, on what Crabtree would undoubtedly call the pooss, the group on the poop are - collectively and individually - all looking at something or other. Even the hamsters are apparently frittering away their time.

So ..... who's steering the bloody ship? Eh? Eh?

(Answers on the back of an envelope, mailed to: TGS Very Little Gravitas Indeed, by no later than next Pancake Tuesday. No correspondence will be entered into).

It was Elvis! Yes Elvis, who had grown tired of appearing at 7/11 stores and gas stations, had decided now was the time to run away to sea. There he stood, resplendent in his sequined bell bottoms, hair magnificently blowing in the breeze, gripping the wheel as though it was a be-ponytailed bobby-soxer and gyrating as only The King can.

"Well, thank you very much," he said to no-one in particular.

So .... THAT'S why the hamsters were looking festive. It was Elvis at the helm!

Montmorency Hamster turned to his brother Marmaduke:

"D'you think he'll do requests, if we ask him nicely?"

"You could try," said Marmaduke. "I've always thought that Jailhouse Rock was one of his best."

With that...

Elvis turned to Sponcracker and said, in that well known Southern drawl "Well I'll be buggered, a talking hamster!"

"Yes and that's not all" replied Sponcracker. "Wait till you see this" And grabbing his remote control thingie that he used to control his 'droids, Sponcracker rapidly punched its' buttons.

This caused several odf the 'droids to form up in a line and produce various brass musical instruments from about their 'droid bodies.

The rest of the crew stood around open mouthed as the 'droids, sounding exactly like the Mussel Shoals Horns, launched into the opening bars of Suspicious Minds.

The King of course, sang: "We're caught in a trap.....

don't look back
because it's all rubbish baaaaby
this thread is crap
but don't you dare say that
because driver and craig will get upseeeeet:eek: :eek: :D :D :D

HH.

The King of course, sang: "We're caught in a trap.....
where upon all the hampsters cheered because each of them could recall at least 1 relative that was stuck in a wheel of furtune or worse a wheel of......

....perpetual self indulgence.....

HH.

Whereupon there was great rending in the sky, and solemn bearded face appeared through the clouds and all aboard the good ship did drop to their unworthy knees. An earsplitting shrill blasted from a gilded whistle in his holy lips. And the great moderator in the sky spake thus: "Get thee gone HH, and leave alone this tiny vessel and those that sail under the banner of light-hearted fun, lest you be given a red card! Surely one of so great an intellect as yourself have better tasks at hand. You have been warned!!" And with this dire message, grand curtains of crushed velvet in a nice paisley pattern drew closed with a final deafening clack of thunder, and a small fart...

Too late Andy fxst beat you to it, I guess having fun with the fun erodes some peoples sense of humour quicker than others....very sad.:(

........the fart smelled so bad that all sense of humour was lost.....

HH.

so the crew decided to call it "Happy Hammer".

So, for instance, Bosun Bastard would say to Groans "You've farted you old bugger haven't you?" but Groans would reply "No! I haven't! I may have Happied though. " he'd say with a leer.

Meanwhile, back on the poop, Elvis.....

O'Presleystein slammed his foot down onto the foot of a wee Unhappy Hammer and he became nought but a tacky little Tack Hammer with a funny pointed head and a strangely unpleasant aroma somewhat reminiscent of soccer players old inner sole. The poor benighted Unhappy Hammerstein promptly headed for...........

The nearest Bunnies.
With evil on his mind..........................

and an old fella in his hand.

The old fella was frail and bent, so bent that he needed a walking frame.
When they reached the paint section the old frail bent guy said.......................

"you know, this takes me back"

"Does it grandad" said the lad

"Aye son" said the old fella "Many's the tale I coild tell you of my seafaring days"

"Well off you go then" (said the boy)

"I remember it as if it were yesterday" reminisced the old fella "leading artificer was my position and ....

All I used to do was artifice....................

"And" said the young en...........

... the captain called down from the poop deck: ...."

"Groans! Groans there! Lay aft to the poop deck and bring that dam' fool Staines with ye!"

As the old man struggled to imitate Hornblowers's powerful roar, the years dropped away and he was (literally) transported back aboard the Very Little Gravitas Indeed.

He grabbed Staines by the shirt collar and trotted up the companionway to the poop deck. (He ignored a raft of whinging from various companions as they were trampled underfoot). Momentarily distracted by the entirely unexpected sight of the King of Rock 'N Roll manning the tiller, Groans pulled himself together and saluted Fellatio.

"Leading Artificer Groans, reporting as instructed, Captain!" he said.

"Yerss," said Hornblower. "Take Staines and ....

Get some paint from Bunnies, I have an idea to paint the...........