The Rip in the Fabric of the Universe ...

" I will take care of her, why I wil take her to my quarters to ensure her safety - drool dribble -I will look after her until we can get her back to shore. We are only a week away from....................

everyone recovering from the shock of me not saying 'what'd 'e say?'. So I have aweek of uninterrupted leachery to enjoy!"
With which, he...

...wrapped his gnarled old Leading Artificer's arm around the curvaceous Mademoiselle de Saloon's amidship's region and led her gallantly into his 'tween decks workshop.

Things were going well for the deaf old bastard right up until a ripping sound was heard and - before the highly frustrated joint and several gazes of Groans and the Mademoiselle, that upimself Oirish hoofer, Moichael O'Flatulence materialised. In addition to his normal supercilious expression and tap shoes, Moichael was wearing a floppy beret.

Looking around Groans' workshop, Moichael placed a hand on one hip and said:

"Faith! What a lovely space ye have here!"

There was a stunned silence for no more than a heartbeat. Groans carefully disengaged from the delights of Mademoiselle Claire and seized Moichael by the scruff of his neck and the seat of his pantaloons. He hauled him up the nearest companionway. (Regrettably, several companions were trampled severely in the process, much to their customary discontent). Reaching the maindeck, Groans encountered the imposing bulk of Shorty.

"Shipmate," he said to the enormous Aussie. "Have you Down Under fellas heard of the Code of Practice?"

"Yair, mate. 'Course we have. Got a copy right here."

He pulled a well-thumbed booklet from his pocket and brandished it.

"Good," said Groans. "You'll understand then. This upimself Oirish hoofer just wandered into my workshop (a Shed within the defined meaning of the Code) wearing a floppy beret. He (and I find this difficult to believe) ... he actually called my workshop a...(gulp)... a space!"

"Mate!" exclaimed Shorty. "Let me give you a hand!"

He took firm hold of Moichael's feet and, with a mighty heave, he and Groans flung the hoofer over the taffrail.

("Olé!" from the hamsters).

"Erkk!" followed by a splash from Moichael.

Shorty turned to Groans and ....

said " Let's have another look at that Cod of Practice and see if there is anything about interfering hoofers and floppy hats" To which Groans complained " What now?? I got things to do in my cabin, I mean this is an oportunity too good to miss, I was just getting right up.............

close and personal with her naughtiness when I had to deal with his upimselfness and now you want to talk about fish! Bugger you matey, I'm going down...

to my cabin to read the Code of Practice to find out what breach I've committed that would explain why none of you have bothered to answer for three whole days. Her naughtiness has now gone off the boil thank you all very much!
So it's a sailor's life for me...

"Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum stick your finger up the....................."

... glottal stop".

"Wha' the hell's a glo'al stop?" asked a passing Scotsman.

"How did he escape from the brig?" demanded Nemo. "He's one of those two Highlanders I told Frontbottom to lock up!"

Nemo was right. Lester McLustar, the laird of Glen Lustar and his factor, Maxwell McKnackerlacquer were there, on the poop, fully kitted out in Highland regalia.

"We're here," said McLustar, "Because of a .....

"problem with my caber, you see the last time I tossed it something wierd happened......."

However, the crowd on the poop deck didn't get to hear what had happened to McLustar's caber, for he was interrupted in mid-flow.

"CLAP THE KILTED BUGGER IN IRONS!" roared Captain Nemo. "AND HIS BLOODY MATE MAX FACTOR!"

"Noo, noo," said McKnackerlacquer. "Ma name's McKnackerlacquer. No' Max Factor. People often get that wrong." He shook his head with amusement.

That didn't last long.

"I DON'T CARE IF YOUR NAME IS NEBUCHAD- BLOODY-NEZZER!" hooted Nemo. "GET HIM OFF MY POOP DECK. HIM AND HIS KILTED MATE! SPONCRACKER! WHERE ARE YOUR DROIDS?"

Scarcely had the words blasted from Nemo's vocal chords when a phalanx of Sponcracker's robots clattered up the companionway (to the anguished whinging of a bunch of downtrodden companions) and hoisted McLustar and McKnackerlacquer onto their shoulders.

The crowd on the poop got a most unwelcome view of what Scotsmen have beneath their kilts as the droids tramped off in the direction of the brig.

Dogsbreath ...

thought " If only I had kilt fittings like that" Captain Nemo shouted at Dogsbreath " Comon man get your act together, make sure those kilted madmen are secure in the brig" dogsbreath thought " One day Nemo, I'll......."

turn him back into a penguin and shove down the throat of a killer whale"
Just as the thought had left his mind a killer whale leapt out of the water and grabbed Catain Nemo in its mouth on the way past the bridge. Dogsbreath was sure he saw the whale wink and wave at him. "odd that "thought Dogsbeath 'but I'm sure...........

He didn't get to finish the thought for Groans, distracted as he was by thoughts of unfinished business with Mademoiselle Claire de Saloon, still managed to catch a glimpse of a fast-approaching Japanese whaler off the starboard quarter.

"Whaler off the starboard quarter!" he yelled.

Yes! It was none other than the Sushi Maru. Despite the loss of their erstwhile skipper: Nakalaka-san, the crew of the Sushi Maru had taken once again to their unpleasant trade and - via that beady-eyed little bugger, Eagaroo-Ayee-san, the lookout - had spotted the killer whale as it snatched up Nemo and bore him back into the ocean.

Speeya-Chaka-san the harpoonist was crouched over his bow-mounted weapon, ready to loose off a lance at the merest hint of a target.

He got more than he bargained for.

Directly in the path of the Sushi Maru an enormous conning tower broke the surface. Picked out in two-foot (610mm)-high bronze letters was the name of the gigantic submarine: "Nautilus"

"Aha!" thought Dogsbreath. "So I was right after all about Nemo. He is a descendant of that unscrupulous old submariner."

The crew of the Sushi Maru was galvanized into action by a harsh cry from their master-at-arms:

"Deparoy!" he cried (harshly), "Deparoy catching thing instruments of the Edo era! Fend off broody great submarine-san!"

A small forest of catching thing instruments of the Edo era appeared all down the portside rail of the Sushi Maru. Clasping each catching thing near its foot was a small, tense-looking son of Nippon.

Amid a flurry of salt-laden spray, the killer whale surfaced alongside the Nautilus, with Nemo astride its head, riding the whale like a bronco rider in a rodeo. (He always was a melodramatic bugger, thought Dogsbreath).

"Tell ya what, Shorty," said Dogsbreath. "That Nemo - he always was a melodramatic bugger."

Shorty ...

drained the last of his can, threw it nonchalantly at Groans head which luckily missed him but beaned Staines who collapsed in a heap at Miss Susans feet."bloody good shot there Shorty" said Dogsbreath "but more to the point what do you reckon we should do about that" pointing at Nemo who....

and said "That can was not empty! Next time make sure you drink it all, I mean beaning Staines is Ok but ..........."

pancakes are not. (ok)

..and wasting beer should be unthinkable!"
"A real man would...

dispose of the empty can thoughtfully and.......

open another.
Just as things appeared to be coming back to what passed as normal here.....SPROINGgggggg out of the ocean depths appeared Zebberdy who said "Gosh that ocean is deep. It took me from page 1 to here to get back on board ....and I nearly drowned too" HIs appearance had

....changed very little. A touch of light rust on the spring that comprised his lower limb(s), some seaweed strewn artistically about his personage and a red face from holding his breath for nigh on 20 months :rolleyes: .

He sproinged himself up the companionway ("Oh - that makes a change," commented a downsproinged companion in a voice heavy with mournful irony. "Battered by a bloody caricatured valve-spring, instead of the usual hobnailed seaboots!").

Reaching the poop, Zebedee gave a triumphant sproinging leap. He rebounded from the deck and would have disappeared back over the taffrail had it not been for several hamsters who grabbed him and bounced him back.

"That," said Hieronymous Hamster, "Was nearly a record for the shortest visit aboard the VLGI!"

"Y'know," said Hubert, "You may be right. I think even His Upimselfness has managed to last for a couple of minutes of bloody awful noisy, upimself exhibitionist dancing before we've managed to engineer a trip back into the 'oggin."

Zebedee greeted Dogsbreath and ....

Shorty and had a quick beer then said...."its time to go" and with that the three of them......

...went.

Meanwhile...

the rip in the fabric of the universe was fluctuating between getting bigger and smaller, this was of real concern to..............................

....Moichael O'Flatulence, who was trying to launch himself back aboard the VLGI. He took a run at the Rip just as it shrank. He bounced off it and landed fair on his fundament.

Furiously, he leapt to his feet and hurled himself bodily once more at the Rip. Just as he was about to collide heavily into it, the Rip gaped open.

Moichael was propelled at great speed through the Rip. He materialised on the port side of the VLGI's poop deck. Such was the impetus of his charging run, he clattered clean across the deck, tripped over the recumbent body of Staines (felled, as you will recall, by Shorty's not-quite-empty can) and hurtled over the taffrail before the hamsters had a chance to salute him with their customary 'Olé!'

His despairing 'ERK!' was abruptly cut off as Moichael was, yet again, swallowed by the foaming ocean's swell.

"Now that," declared Hieronymous. "Was definitely a record for the shortest visit yet to the good ship Very Little Gravitas Indeed!"

"OLE!!" agreed the other hamsters.

Meanwhile, Miss Susan was becoming concerned about Staines.

"I say!" she said. "I'm becoming concerned about Seaman Staines."

Frontbottom took a pull on his pipe and ....

said" This tastes like sh##, have to give it up" With that Frontbottom started to............

listen to the radio, which at that very moment was trying to impersonate everyone's email inbox by featuring a sexy female voice advising all listening blokes (and chaps) that more than thirty seconds would be very nice and added that her company the upturned banana could improve everyone's (err?)standing in the bedroom.
"I say" said Hieronymous, "perhaps we ought to get some of that for Moichael, it might help him stay on board for longer...

for when we have the next caber tossing event, that's if he ever gets back on board" Meanwhile Frontbottom's ear was still glued to the radio which was most inconvenient. Shorty was silently laughing to himself at this since he put the glue on the radio. The glue Shorty got hold of was slow in setting until it came in contact with something. Shorty wondered what would happen if he painted all the toilet seats with it. " Tonight would be good " he thought, " The ships cook is doing French onion Soup and a rather spicey Goulash hmmmmm...................."

Frontbottom, meanwhile, had given up trying to remove the radio from his ear, and was trying to juggle his mobile phone and his credit card. He had succumbed to the siren song of the spruiking sheila on the radio, and was in the process of dialing the number of the Upturned Banana. Little did he know that the number was that of a call centre in downtown Calcutta, and the call would be charged at several very large Euros a second.

"Brrrrrrrrrrr Brrrrrrrrrrr, Brrrrrrrrrrrr Brrrrrrrrrr....good morning sir, this are the offices of the upturning banana, Mr. Kari Mancha speaking, isn't it beautiful weather in Melbourne this morning, how may we being of assistance to you please?"

Frontbottom pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a second or two with a strange expression on his Royal Marine dial.

"Good heavens!" he said. "This device appears to be channelling Peter Sellers! How odd."

He tossed the mobile over the taffrail. Unbeknownst to anyone (except for the bloke in Calcutta, who heard a muffled "Erk!!") it beaned Moichael as he surfaced in the VLGI's wake.

Sally was still concerned about Seaman Staines.

"I'm still concerned about Seaman Staines," she said.

Frontbottom would have explained to her that Staines was someone on whom her concerns would be entirely wasted. However, before he could do so, something momentous happened.

The something was accompanied by a cataclysmic throbbing boom and a dreadful doom-laden disturbance across the entire light spectrum. It was the kind of noise and light effect you could imagine would accompany something utterly earth-shattering - like a shift in the space/time continuum.

Entirely appropriate because that was what the 'something' was. The space/time continuum did it's shift thing and, as usual, the results were interesting.

In the forward vision screens, the occupants of the Starship Very Little Gravitas Indeed's command bridge saw a gigantic penguin, riding a monocycle and pursued by an entire hockey team of octopuses. Nemo - for it was he - was trying to work out why his killer whale had become a one-wheeler and why the crew of the Sushi Maru had become a team of cephalopods brandishing striking thing implements of the Hockeyroo era.

Frontbottom had apparently been promoted because he wore the full dress uniform of a Galactic Admiral of the Agnurian Nebula Starfleet (bit of a bugger this, actually, because the full dress headgear was modelled on something remarkably similar to the Big Ram, a feature of the Wagin Woolarama in WA - although Frontbottom was not to know this. He just couldn't work out why his forward vision was impeded by what seemed to be an enormous ram's scrotum. Which meant, of course, that his head was up a ram's bottom).

Miss Sally was fetchingly attired as Marie Antoinette. So (regrettably) was Groans. Up until now his resemblance to Elton John had passed unnoticed but could not now be ignored.

Staines came to and took in the scene. Remarkably, he realised immediately that there had been a shift in the space/time continuum - with its customary weird effects on people. He swiftly checked to see what manifestation had been visited upon him and was frustrated to discover that the answer was - not much. He was clad in his normal striped guernsey and canvas pantaloons.

"Bugger!" he said. "Still a Seaman!"

"Oh!" said Sally. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Seaman Staines. You should have some cake. Shouldn't he, Mr Groans?"

"Yurss," said Groans, in a high-pitched falsetto squeak. "Let them eat cake!"

Meanwhile, Dogsbreath and Shorty ....

happily slept off their hangover due ,in part, to the over-indulgence of fine booze and pie floaters .through a hazy fog Dogsbreath heard .....'oi you, yes you laddie .........

"... that's right, you. Fellow wearing the kilt. Could you assist me in extracting my head from this enormous hat?"

Frontbottom - whose forward vision, as previously mentioned, was impeded by an enormous set of ovine wedding tackle, had failed to recognise Dogsbreath.

"Algernon!" quoth the Rip Lord. "Algie, mate! Is that you wearing the full dress uniform of a Galactic Admiral of the Agnurian Nebula Starfleet?"

"What?" said Frontbottom, pushing the ram's scrotum to one side. "Dogsbreath! Can you help me remove this hat? It's giving me a terrible neck ache. And what's this dangly bit in the front? It looks like...I mean, it can't be....Hwar, hwar! It looks like a....a....Bloody Hell! It looks like a bloody ball bag, a blasted goolie sack, I mean, Hell's Bells! It looks like a bloody great scrotum! ....What the hell is going on?!?"

Dogsbreath and Shorty carefully lifted the ram helmet from a relieved Frontbottom's scone. Placing it carefully on the deck of the starship's command bridge, they revealed to Frontbottom the disconcerting fact that he had had his head up a ram's fundament.

Frontbottom was disconcerted.

"I'm disconcerted!" he exclaimed. "I mean the rest of the uniform's rather splendid but what the hell is the idea of wearing a bloody great ram as a hat? It's really quite undignified to find that your head is halfway up a ram's bottom!"

"Yes sir!" said a starship rating, saluting as he came to attention. "You called, sir?"

"What!" said Frontbottom. "Who are you?"

"Ramsbottom, sir. You called for me, sir."

"No I didn't! I ....

was merely discussing this rediculous hat, dismissed Ramsbum, er Ramsbottom" His mind wandered back to Dogdbreath's cluster. " I say Dogsbreath, how did you come by that fine looking "sporan"? ho ha .Looks like you got the damn thing caught in a super jaw! "
Dogsbreath inhaled deepley and retored....................."

"Never mind that! The rip in the fabric of the universe is closing up for good. We are the only ones left, everyone else has dissapeared. What are we going to do?" Ramsbottom said " We can only................"

hope that some one will come ad rescue this much loved story before Miss Susan and Roger the Ready marry and beget more of those strange things called

...hamsters"

"Hamsters!" yelled Dogsbreath. "That's what's missing! Where are the bloody hamsters? They're normally lined up along the taffrail!"

He spun round, searching for the chubby-cheeked little chorus line, prominent because of their absence.

"Ahem!" coughed the Galactic Admiral of the Agnurian Nebula Starfleet, Algernon Frontbottom. Relieved of his quite remarkable headgear, he had assumed his more normal demeanour. "Ahem! It has clearly failed to register with you, Dogsbreath, old chap, but we're not on the sailing vessel Very Little Gravitas Indeed, we are on the starship Very Little Gravitas Indeed. It hasn't got a taffrail."

"Ah, yair. Thanks Frontbottom, you're right. So where do they go when there's no taffrail ..... just a minute! Frontbottom ..... and didn't you ...."

He turned to the young starship rating.

"...didn't you say your name is Ramsbottom?"

"Aye, aye sir!" quoth he.

"So that means ... that means I'm surrounded by...."

He paused.

Hieronymous Hamster popped his head out of an inspection hatch near the after portion of the navigation bridge.

"It means, Dogsbreath," said Hieronymous, "That you're surrounded by Bottoms. Or, putting it another way, by @rseholes!"

"Nothing new there, then," said Dogsbreath.

Meanwhile, just to the rear of the VLGI, and hidden from her after viewing screens by an impenetrable Image Dispersion and Diffusion Beam Generator from the Nemo Corporation's Department for After-Market Spacecraft Accessories, lurked the malevolent presence of .....

...the Mother Farquahar, accompanied by the inscrutable Nakalaka san and the estimable Speeya-chaka san.

"Orright, you scurvy fundaments, what have you done with my little Roger?" asked the large lady in her usual polite fashion. Behind her, in chorus, Nakalaka and Speeya-chaka added the refrain

"Yes, where is our rittle Lodger?"
"Jeez," pondered Dogsbreath, "this is all getting too much for me. Just when things couldn't get any worse, they did."

While the lower ranks, e.g. Dogsbreath, sank into a blue funk at the slightest hint of adversity the Galactic Admiral of the Agnurian Nebula Starfleet, Algernon Frontbottom, was made of sterner stuff. Years of leadership training in the finest Agnurian Starfleet Military Academies enabled him to react appropriately without even having to think (which was just as well, because, as thinkers went, he didn't go very far). Drawing himself up to his full height, he retrieved and replaced his previous headgear in a vain attempt to salvage some dignity, and striking a valiant pose, said.....

He was momentarily nonplussed as his head disappeared up into the capacious internal volume of his Merino ram facsimile headgear.

"I am only momentariley nonplussed!" His disembodied voice emerged, slightly muffled from inside his hat. Thrusting the hat upwards to reveal most of the lower portion of his head, Frontbottom peered out around the enormous ram's scrotum dangling in front of him and said:

"Madam! Don't think you can throw your appalling weight about in your customary manner aboard this vessel. You are addressing a Galactic Admiral of the Agnurian Nebula Starfleet!"

He placed one hand on his hip and stared down his upper-class nose.

The Mother Farcquar was unimpressed.

"Stand aside, Front@rse!" she said. "I was talking to the organ grinder!" (She pointed at Dogsbreath). "But, just for future reference, you'd probably get more respect if you didn't have your head jammed up a ram's bottom."
The afore-mentioned starship rating came smartly to attention. He didn't salute, being unsure of the Mother Farcquar's rank but he did respond:

"Yes ma'am." quoth he.

"Go away sonny." The Mother Fracquar made a dismissive gesture. "Who rattled your cage?"

"You did, ma'am." said Ramsbottom.

"What? No I didn't." She was distracted by the youth's serious demeanour.

"Yes, ma'am. You did. You called my name."

"What? I didn't call your name. I don't know your name. Go away!" She flapped a huge hand at him.

Undaunted, Ramsbottom held his ground.

"Ramsbottom, ma'am. Able-Bodied Starship Rating Ramsbottom."

The Mother Farcquar stopped flapping her hand and stared, open-mouthed. She lifted a hand to her mouth and slowly pointed a forefinger the size of a Cumberland sausage at Ramsbottom.

"You!" she whispered in horror-stricken tones. "It's you...! You're .....

...standing there on Talk like a Pirate day, prattling on as though you're little Lord Fauntleroy. Git yer scurvy tongue around the vaaarghnacular and start talkin' the talk, yer scummy little son of a beached walrus, or I'll have yer."

The grand dame's adoption of a gutteral north-country accent confused the oriental duo, whose command of the English language was none too good to start with. Nakalaka San, in particular, seemed perplexed by her instruction to Ramsbottom, perceiving it to be an order to start licking him. Grasping hold of the catching thing of the Edo era, he struck a beligerent pose and said.....

"Belay that, ye swab!"

Everyone was totally gobsmacked by Nakalaka-san's apparent grasp of Pirate Talk. As one, they all chorused:-

"We're totally gobsmacked!"

All, that is, except Hieronymus who, with his customary sharp instincts, had cottoned-on. Peering out of his inspection hatch, he said:-

"It's Moichael! That upimself Oirish gobshoite is either channelling himself through our scientific researching ship's captain here, or he's throwing his voice!"

With that, Moichael ....

started to put his head through the rip but spied Hieronymus watching him with an evil glint in his eye and baring his teeth so he could