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"Not without me you're not!" interrupted Sally.
Which dear reader, meant Roger had to stay in the school. If we allow Sally to enter the antics on board the Very Little Gravitas Indeed then who knows where it would end. Talk about a precedent. Wher would it end? Driver on the ship?:eek: SilentC? Me????
Alice could enter wonderland.
Michael can enter Neverland.
But we, the writers must never enter this story, or could we...
"no we couldn't Jim" commented Driver "or the next thing to happen is Al would become involved with hampsters as up until now we have no goats in this fable .....or trolls for that matter"
to resolve the problem Roger (minus VC & Bar) fell to his knee (german for nee) and proposed to Miss Sally and on her saying yes he popped back through the rip with a cheery "I will return" and Miss Sally with a tear in her eye said.........................
...while he's away at sea, I can probably resume where I left off with Sebastian ...."
Meanwhile, all unknowing of his putative fiancee's plot, Roger materialised on the poop deck of the the good ship VLGI.
"Cabin boy! Cabin boy there!" The captain was striding up and down the weather side of the poop. "Lay aft to the galley and bring me a cup of cocoa!"
"Aye aye, sir!" Roger sped galley-wards.
"Y'know," said Dogsbreath to Frontbottom. "This reminds me ..."
"I'm going to find it hard to believe that you drank a lot of cocoa in the Cowsucker's Udder or whatever that Orstraylian hostelry was called," said Frontbottom, blowing into his pipe to produce a cheerful tooting sound.
"Nah," said Dogsbreath. "Bugger cocoa, mate. I was reminded more of ..."
...the Guiness(spelling?) Factory in Dublin where...
...I first met a girl called sweet Mollie Malone - as she wheeled her wheelbarrow through the streets broad and narrow, crying: "Cockles and mussels! Alive! Alive-Oh!"
"You seem, old chap," said Frontbottom, giving vent to another toot. "To be extracting the antipodean urine."
"We-e-ell," said Dogsbreath. "Yer've gotta admit, the bloody plot's gorn a bit stale, mate. I mean - nothing much happening, is there?"
"True," said Frontbottom, between toots. "Very, very true."
There was a pause on the poop deck. Frontbottom and Dogsbreath observed the crew on the maindeck. Groans was occupied in re-loading his arquebus. Staines, with a typically gormless Stainesian expression, was occupied in scratching portions of his anatomy that need not concern the discerning reader. Roger passed swiftly by, bearing a steaming mug of cocoa for the captain.
Frontbottom drew a breath, expelled it through his pipe with a merry toot, filled said pipe with a heady mixture of Royal Marines' Best Shag, lit same and drew a calming lungful. Turning to Dogsbreath, he said:
"By the bye - been meaning to ask you this for a while. Seems like an opportune moment. When we were heading for a potentially sticky collision on the rocks recently, you did something with that pole of yours that seemed to avert the disaster. What was all that about? Hmm?"
"Yair," said Dogsbreath. "Wondered when you'd get round to asking about that. Well, it's because of the thing with Nemo Corporation, Sponcracker and his droids and that weird Tam O'Shanter and his brother Tim. Might help if I explain that my name's not really Dogsbreath Mechanical Engineer. It's Doctor Respiration du Chien."
"Doctor Who?" said Frontbottom.
"No mate, he's a bloody Time Lord. I'm a Rip Lord. Not the same thing at all."
"You've lost me completely." Frontbottom's pipe had gone out and nary a toot was to be heard in its near vicinity, such was the concentration he was focussing (not without good reason, as we shall see) on Dogsbreath.
"Rip Lord. I have powers in connection with the good old RITFOTU. I can ...."
"Ya ken?"
"I dinna even know ye were Scottish!" replied Frontbottom looking even more preplexed.
"I'm ...
.. beginning to think this conversation is not going anywhere." The normally imperturbable Dogsbreath was feeling rattled.
"I'm feeling rattled. Let's start again. You asked me about my pole and how I managed to prevent the Very Little Gravitas Indeed from foundering on those rocks ...."
"(Toot!) Yes, that's it, old chap. Then you said something utterly incomprehensible." Frontbottom looked not at all rattled but was unusually attentive. "I'm all ears," he said.
"Well, dunno about that, mate! I mean, there's a touch of the wingnut, for sure. But compared with some people - HRH Prince Chuck, for example ..."
"Oh do get on with it, for heaven's sake! No need to comment on a chap's ears, I mean to say ..." Frontbottom busied himself with his pipe, muttering under his breath. However, he continued to pay close attention to his fox-hatted companion.
"OK. It must have occurred to you before now that the events connected with the Rip are not purely random happenstance. Take Michelle of the Resistance, for example. She and her girls can cross the Rip when summoned. Sponcracker and his droids are able to move to and fro without let or hindrance. So it must also have occurred to you that someone exercises control over the Rip. Right!"
"Oh, well yes! Absolutely old man. Of course. Knew someone was in control all along (Toot!)" Frontbottom affected a knowing nonchalance.
Dogsbreath gazed at him for a long moment.
"Yair. Well. The control was exercised by me, sport. Yer friendly Aussie Rip Lord. Don't much like the Lord bit, meself. Doesn't sit well with my credentials as an Aussie but it's a convenient way of explaining that nothing and no-one gets through the Rip In The Fabric Of The Universe without my say-so. Until very recently, that is. There's been a bit of a blue in the space-time continuum and a couple of things have happened outside my control."
"Things like what, old chap? Or should I call you M'Lud?"
"Jeez, mate! No! Just call me Dogsbreath! Things like that upimself bugger Moichael O'Flatulence nipping in and out, for example. Not to mention Tim and Tam O'Shanter."
"Tim and Tam O'Shanter?"
"Thought I told you not to mention them!"
Frontbottom was completely gobsmacked.
"Bugger me." he said. "Just when I thought this thread was stuffed, when I thought the evil giant had destroyed the RITFOTU by introducing the orange room and taking away the need to bend the rules by being rude here and getting away with it. Open Slather they called it. Almost killed us as quick as video killed the radio star. Just so he didn't have any naughtiness to edit. Hmph! Now you tell me an Aussie is a time lord!"
"Not a Time lord you sook, a Rip Lord. Dogsbreath to you."
"But what about Roger trying to escape to the real world?"
"Well..." said Dogsbreath......"that is another matter. You see....
...Roger is really a figment of Frontbottom's imagination."
" Well, that's not exactly true." replied Dogsbreath. "Although I can see why you'd think that. You see, Roger is actually my assistant. He is at this very moment on the other side of the rip seeking guidance from the Rip god.
I sent him there in a desperate attempt to save this thread from deletion.
You see I am the spokesperson of the god on this side of the rip. Hence the name "Dog's breath."
"But, "said Frontbottom "Then your name would be God's breath, wouldn't it?"
"Ah yes said Dog's breath. But that would seem too much like sacrilege and anyway the readers all assumed that it was just dyslexia on the part of the writers. All those jokes about the dyslexic insomniac philosopher wondering if there really is a dog were closer to the truth than they ever knew."
Just then Roger, dressed like either the men in black or one of the blues brothers, came charging through the rip yelling we're on a mission from dog.
After conferring with Roger privately for several minutes the Rip lord announced.
"Listen to me. This is an emerency. This is a warship and we are now officially on a mission. Therefore I am ordering all non essential personell off the ship right now. Everyone who didn't originally come from this world or the original launching of this ship must get off right now. "
And as simply as that all and sundry departed through the Rip.
The ship rose several feet higher in the water and the Rip lord called to Nemo
"You, Penguin, stop buggerising around and change back into the captain, NOW. We're off on a little Time travel adventure. Back four thousand years to visit the Egyptian jackal headed god Anubis and see if we can get to the bottom of this story threatening apathy. We've been in the Dole Drums too long. It's because that theiving genius who lives near the Silent Sea has stolen the Aurora Boring Alice."
The crew were shocked.
"We're shocked" they all said "He's stolen the Southern Lights?"
" No, the southern lights are called the Aurora Australis. He stole the northern lights!"
"We have to get them back."
With that the Good ship finally had a purpose and feeling very frisky without all the extraneous cargo she darted through the space time continuum to the Nile River. The year 2560 BC....
.....was a good year, no wars, no elcetions and the taxation department had been vapourised, in fact it was this time in the mellenium that.........
the hamsters first landed their strange pyramid shaped spaceships on the plateau near Giza only to find absolutely no supply of fuel for the return trip.
Hieronomous hamster looked at his first mate and said...
"Looks like we might be stuck here for a while, Number One. You'd better find something for the crew to occupy their time with. You know how much trouble a crew full of bored hamsters can cause!"
"Aye, aye, sir!" Lieutenant Commander Hugo Hamster saluted and went off for a bit of a think.
The scheme he came up with had all the hallmarks of a major cock-up from Day One. He set up a committee of hamsters from the different divisions of the giant space-voyaging pyramid ships. The committee's task was to build a statue of a hamster to mark their presence in the Nile Valley.
Hamsters - especially those of the type that travel intergalactically - are capable of great energy and alacrity when fully engaged on a project. Consequently, it didn't take them long to complete an enormous statue of a hamster. It was set upon a plinth adjacent to the largest of the spacecraft. The hamster statue was depicted in a crouching stance, its front paws neatly placed in front of its chest, its head raised in an alert posture.
Regrettably, whilst intergalactic hamsters are capable of great energy and alacrity, they are also capable of disagreement amongst themselves on virtually any subject in the known universe and beyond. Consequently, the committee failed to agree at any point on a precise design for the huge statue. Various parts of it had been shielded from other parts during its construction while each was worked on by the different groups. Not a hamster involved had any aesthetic or creative talent.
It was with a sense of genuine curiosity - tinged with apprehension - that the CO, Hieronymus Hamster, presided at the unveiling ceremony.
He pulled the cord that released the great shroud-like cover that had thus far shielded the statue from general view. The cover fell away to reveal the full extent of the hamster committee's efforts.
Towering above the assembled hamsters was an edifice the like of which had previously never been seen.
Hieronymus gazed at it open-mouthed.
The first mate looked at him and said:
"So what d'you think, sir? Quite something, isn't it?"
"Oh yes, Number One! It's something, all right. Various somethings spring to mind: cock-up, for example - appalling mess; hugely ill-conceived pile of tat, for example. But actually, the word that springs most clearly to mind is a word my dear old dad used to utter if he dropped something on his foot. Yes - that's it. It's a bloody great SPHINX!!!"
And thus it was, Dear Reader, that an ill-conceived and badly-executed statue of an enormous hamster came to occupy a dominant position in the Nile Valley- and to receive a name that no-one ever truly understood - until now, that is ....
it is called the Sphinxter!
Anyway, Hieronymous Hamster said to his crew (with only a little facetiousness)
"Well done lads! Now that we have that enormous structure to occupy/ divert the attention of the natives of this planet, or at least keep them guessing for a few of their millenia, we can hide the truth about our strange spaceships and live like gods amongst these primitives."
"But Sir, why?"
Hieronymous sighed, rubbed his paw on his forehead in a gesture of condescending patience and explained
"Because we're out of fuel you ignoramus! We either settle back and wait the 4 or 5 thousand of this planet's years for them to advance enough to invent nuclear power or we teach them now."
"But sir, how are we going to make them listen to us?"
""We'll just convince them that we are gods."
"Captain... interrupted Lt. Commander Hugo Hamster " Why don't we send out a call for help?"
Hieronymous decided that would be good for morale so he sent a few Hamsters to set up the electronic sign that hamsters used throughout the galaxy to flag down passers by. ( Dear reader You will be familiar with this sort of sign but probably didn't realise it was a sign. Humans call it the Aurora Borealis or the northern lights. And it was still there until recently and is the reason that the good ship VLGI was on this particular mission.)
Anyway, while his crew were setting up their distress signal, lots of primitive humans were gathering around the strange sights on the Giza plateau saying...
"What the fox hat?"
Or, at least, that's what they seemed to be saying.
Dogsbreath, standing on the poop deck of the good ship Very Little Gravitas Indeed as it materialised out of the mist on the waters of the Nile, was quite moved that the locals had noticed his headgear.
"See?" he said to Frontbottom. "This hat attracts attention everywhere!"
Frontbottom....
realised that Dogsbreath was wrong.
" Doggie ole mate, they're not looking at you! See, they are pointing at those incredibly new looking pyramids."
Dogsbreath was quite taken aback. He said " I'm....
offended, how could those piles of stone look better than me???......
"We-e-ell," said Frontbottom. "Whilst your appearance might pass muster at the Cowpony's Buttocks - or whatever your local hostelry is called ..."
"That's the Cowcockies' Arms, mate." Dogsbreath gritted his teeth.
"Yerss, well, as I was saying. Your apparel may well meet the dress standards there, as it were. But you have to admit that a battered kilt, a plastic handbag doing admittedly sterling service as a sporran, a white singlet and a rather baroque fur hat is an unusual combination. Not to put too fine a point on it. Old chap." Frontbottom blew sharply into his pipe and produced a cheerful toot.
If this was intended to mollify his companion it wasn't so much a failure as a bloody disaster. Dogsbreath drew breath. Twice. This enabled him to give vent to a long speech. The speech started thus:-
"Listen, ya pommy drongo! ..."
and ended several minutes later with:-
".... so keep ya flamin' fashion commentary to ya bloody self!"
Frontbottom was unmoved. He ....
didn't need to elucidate this point however, his unmoving demeanor stated that quite obviously enough. What he did say was
"That may well be true old chap, however it does not for one millisecond change the fact that those people have not even noticed your hat, sporran or shoes. They are obviously preoccupied with those rather conspicuous erections that have recently appeared on their skyline.
Now where do you suppose those hamsters have gotten to.
It was a very astute observation, for along the taffrail there was not a hamster to be seen. This was quite unnerving for the crew, who gave voice to their consternations saying
" we're...
"... absolutely and completely, utterly bloody consternated! If we don't get our daily allowance of grog soon we'll probably be bloody spifflicated, too!"
Not unnaturally, the officers on the poop were taken aback.
Their joint and several abackedness was caused as much by their being impressed that the crew could, without any apparent rehearsal, manage such a complicated speech in perfect unison as by the fact that the buggers had managed to last this long between grog issues without mentioning the fact.
"Well," said Captain Nemo. "I don't know about you gentlemen but I'm taken aback!"
and after being a penguin for a long time I feel entitled to feeling thus; and in addition to that my mouth feels like the south end of a northbound camel. Which of you lads wants to join me for a cleansing ale in yonder drinking establishment?"
The crew were so surprised that the captain offered to shout ( they had oft voiced their suspicions and those suspicions had been confirmed recently when their captain in his penguin guise had indeed been bitten by a shark without shouting ) that they didn't find it odd that an Australian hotel labelled the camel jockey's arms had appeared conveniently beside a wharf.
they...
wondered why the pub was shaped like a pyramid. " This is not unusal " said the captain. " All pubs are........"
honour bound by their brotherhood to take on whatever shape endears them to their clients. What is surprising is that this particular pub has taken on an iconic shape even before the said shape has become an icon, after all these pyramid shaped space ships of the hamsters have only just landed here; we are, after all 4 thousand years into our own past. The pub must have made a fundamental misjudgement ;not in space, but in time.
But enough of that, it is after all a pub. There has not been a pub in this story before and I want a beer before it realises its error and disappears. Once we are in there it cannot leave without breaking many rules of hospitality.
So with the tune of "It's a big ad!" in their ears the crewrushed into the pub to find...
That the bloody pub had buggered off and left a wine bar in its place...
The rousing chorus of "It's a big ad. we're in..." died off.
"Well lads, shoutin' a beer is one thing, but there is no way I am buying a round of chardies..."
To this the crew, of course, said, "...
he was nicer when he was a penguin, blooody tight ar3e! Hey waiter what does the Pharaoh drink?
Realising the crew was talking to him, Fellatio checked his uniform. No longer was he ponced up in the navy blue and gold braid of an Admiral of the Royal Navy (or perhaps an Italian train conductor), he was ponced up in a second hand dinner suit, two sizes to big across the shoulders, two sizes too small in the crutch, and bearing various unidentifiable, but certainly suspicious, stains down the front.
Realizing that he had now been demoted to waiter, as evedenced by his new uniform, Fellatio replied "Well, of course, seeing he's the Pharaoh, and Egypt is indeed a dry place, he, of course drinks dry Martinis. Either that, or the canned camel urine that masquerades as beer in his benighted country. Now gentlemen (and I use the term in the loosest possible manner), may I have your orders please."
bashing his way to the bar over the beaten & bloodied bodies of his crewmates, Seaman Staines shouted "I'll have .......
"... a pint of Creme de Menthe and a packet of pork scratchings!"
"What about the rest of us?" yelled the crew. "It's your shout, Staines!"
"Not a bloody ..."
chance, would I lie to you, yibbida, yibbida!"
In the meantime the waiter brought out staines' drink (well the barman had too much self respect to do it;) ) and it was Green. A green hughie! He said "well it's what the pope drinks!"
the rest of the crew were impressed, they said...
religion is the crutch of the masses give us beer or give us VO port but none of that poncy green cats piddle.
On that comment Staines got belligerent who said......
"and why,Oh bartender, are you speaking with that outrageous Scottish accent?"
Just then a man walked into the bar who had a face like a mule....
and his name was Eawe...
and he scared everyone off except for...........
...Staines, who, ignoring the lop-eared newcomer, seized the green vitriol proffered by Fellatio and threw it down in one gulp. Green steam came out of his ears, and a noxious, rip-roaring belch indicated that the drink had gone at least a small way towards quenching his arid thirst.
"Rightoh boys, now that I've put out the fires in me throat, I need to put out the fire in me belly. Where's that lovely young lady, Miss Strapon. I reckon she'd be just what an old salt needs to clear his pipes," roared Staines.
Knowing Staines' lustful intent, and aware from bitter previous experience of his lack of discrimination, the rest of the crew backed up to the nearest vertical surface and tried to ease their collective way out of his field of vision. All, that is, except.....
... Groans, who said (and I quote):-
"What'd 'e say?"
However, despite Groans' failure to adopt a defensive posture against the wall, he was in no real danger from any stray Stainesian urge of a lustful hue. (Lustful Hugh? Another new character perhaps? We'll see).
Staines had different fish to fry. He had espied a door, shielded by a curtain. Being a curious type, he found this irresistible. He thrust the curtain aside and grasped the doorknob. This was a mistake. Someone had ...
...applied a liberal coating of CA glue to the doorknob, and Staines found himself securely stuck to it. No matter how much he swore and rattled the door, he was stuck. Not just stuck as in 'stuck in the mud' but stuck as in 'here for the rest of eternity, or until I rip the flesh from my hand'.
But wait! Let us leave Staines, knob in hand, and return to the poop deck of the Good Ship Very Little Gravitas Indeed, where....
... a figure had materialised in a manner thoroughly familiar to the crew of that distinguished vessel.
This was a well-dressed bloke with a distinct twinkle in his eye.
"May I speak to the Captain?" he enquired, by way of an opening remark.
"You would first be well advised to introduce yourself properly, laddie," said Frontbottom. "The old man's an absolute stickler for the proper form."
"Ah, I see," said the newcomer. "Sorry about that. Remiss of me. My name is Hugh Bastard. This can occasionally lead to difficulties, as you may imagine. Y'know the sort of thing. Someone asks for my name. I tell him. He thinks I'm calling him names .... and so on .... Saves a lot of time if I tell you that I'm normally known as Lustful Hugh (Editorial comment: Aha!). Can't think why." He winked.
The Captain emerged from below. Frontbottom effected an introduction:-
"Captain, sir." He said. "Hugh Bastard." He waved a hand in Lustful Hugh's direction.
"I BEG YOUR PARDON!" roared Nemo. "HOW DARE YOU ADDRESS YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER IN THAT MANNER!"
"No, no, sir!" said Frontbottom, appalled at the misunderstanding. "That's his name. Bastard, sir. First name Hugh. He's a member of the Bastard family, sir. Like the Bo'sun and the ship's cook."
Upon hearing this, a strange expression swiftly crossed Lustful Hugh's face. No-one noticed this - except for Dogsbreath.
Lustful Hugh quickly recovered and approached the Captain ....
Meanwhile, Frontbottom, realising that the captain had accepted his explanation, heaved a sigh of relief and turned to his friend Dogsbreath. He noticed - indeed, he could scarcely fail to notice - that the Rip Lord had removed his fox hat from his head and was staring at it with a strange expression upon his gnarled and weather beaten features.
"I say," said Frontbottom. "Is everything all right, old chap. You look a bit green about the gills, I must say."
Dogsbreath didn't answer him. Instead, a look of burgeoning comprehension spread across his countenance like the early morning spreads daylight across the boundless plains of the Australian outback.
Through clenched teeth, Dogsbreath muttered: "Starve the bloody lizards! That's it!" Suddenly, he hurled his fox hat to the deck and yelled: "THAT'S IT! THAT'S WHAT THEY MEANT! ....AND ALL THIS BLOODY TIME!...."
"I say! Steady on, old man!" Frontbottom was concerned. "What on earth has got into you?"
"It was when I saw the captain's reaction to you mentioning Hugh Bastard's name! I realised: it's a what-the-hell-d'ya-call-it .... a double-thing .... entendre. A double-entendre. You said 'Hugh Bastard' and he thought you said 'You bastard!' It made me realise. About this bloody hat! Remember? When you asked me why I was wearing a hat made from fox fur, I told you it was because me mates back in Oz told me 'Wear the fox hat' because I was going to Auchtermuchty. But they didn't tell me anything, did they? They didn't tell me. They asked me. They said 'Where the fu...?"
"Steady on, old man!" said Frontbottom. "Calm down. Of course that's what they said. Surprised it's taken you this long to work it out. Still. Look on the bright side. This means you no longer need to wear that bloody awful headgear! Good show! What?"
"Nah," said Dogsbreath. "I've grown quite fond of it." He picked up the fox hat, dusted it off and clapped it back on his scone.
"Ah," said Frontbottom. "I see. Oh well."
Lustful Hugh approached. He eyed Dogsbreath's choice in millinery with a knowing glance.
"Fox hat, eh? Friends of yours tell you to wear it, did they?"
"Keep that up, son, and people will be calling you Smart. And you know what they say: no-one likes a Smart Bastard, eh? Now, what do you want and how did you get through the Rip? I don't recall authorising it."
Hugh Bastard went pale. "You don't recall .... You? Does that mean that .... you're a .... Oh Hell! You're a Rip Lord, aren't you?"
"Got it in one, cobber."
"But that upimself Irish bugger told me I'd be OK and I might find Uncle Captain Bastard the chef ...."
"You might but I'm more interested in how you managed to get here via the Rip. So ... explain or you'll find more trouble than either you or any other Bastard can handle."
"We-e-ell," said Lustful Hugh. "It's like this ..."
... I was suffering from one or seven too many green beverages when I found myself in a deep and meaningful conversation with (and you're not going to believe this) a hamster. Rather nice chap 'e was too. Anyway he said that some bastard required my assistance in restarting his spaceship that had stalled some time ago...
I immediately thought it was a family emergency so I asked him where the spaceship had stalled. He replied Giza and when I asked him "where the f#@^'s that?" he said I'd fit right in and wouldn't elaborate, just pushed me through the rip and here I am...