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shelf to confetti. Before I knew it Spike had fired his shotgun into the
ceiling, where it destroyed a light fixture in a shower of bright sparks.
'Who shot at us?' asked Spike. 'Did you see?'
'I think it's fair to say that it wasn't the light fixture.'
'I had to shoot at something. Cover me.'
He jumped up and fired. I joined him, fool that I was. I had thought that
being out of my depth was okay because Spike vaguely knew what he was doing.
Now that I was certain this was not the case, escape seemed a very good option
indeed. After firing several shots ineffectively down the corridor, we stopped
and dropped back round the corner.
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'Chesney!' shouted Spike. 'I want to talk to you!'
'What do you want here?' came a voice. 'This is my patch!'
'Let's have a head-to-head,' replied Spike, stifling a giggle. 'I'm sure we
can come to some sort of arrangement!'
There was a pause, then Chesney's voice rang out again:
'Hold your fire. We're coming out.'
Chesney stepped out into the open, just next to the children's helicopter ride
and a
Coriolanus
Will-Speak machine. His remaining henchman joined him, holding the President.
'Hello, Spike,' said Chesney. He was a tall man who looked as though he didn't
have a drop of liquid blood in his entire body. 'I haven't forgiven you for
killing me.'
'I kill vampires for a living, Dave. You became one I had to.'
'Had to?'
'Sure. You were about to sink your teeth into an eighteen-year-old virgin's
neck and turn her into a lifeless husk willing to do your every bidding.'
'Everyone should have a hobby.'
'Train sets I tolerate,' Spike replied, 'spreading the seed of vampirism I do
not.'
He nodded towards Chesney's neck.
'Nasty scratch you have there.'
'Very funny. What's the deal?'
'Simple. I want President Formby back.'
'And in return?'
Spike turned the shotgun towards me.
'I give you Thursday. She's got bags of life left in her. Give me your gun,
sweetheart.'
'What?' I yelled in a well-feigned cry of indignation.
'Do as I say. The President must be protected at all costs you told me so
yourself
I handed the gun over.
'Good. Now move forward.'
We walked slowly up the concourse, the cowering visitors watching us with a
sort of morbid fascination.
We stopped ten yards from Chesney just near the arcade game area.
'Send the President to me.'
Chesney nodded to his henchman, who let him go. Formby, a little confused by
now, tottered up to us.
'Now send me Thursday.'
'Whoa!' said Spike. 'Still using that old SpecOps-issue revolver? Here, have
her automatic she won't need it any more.'
And he tossed my gun towards his ex-partner. Chesney, in an unthinking moment,
went to catch the gun
but with the hand he used to keep his head on. Unrestrained, his head
wobbled dangerously. He tried to grab it but this made matters worse and his
head tumbled off to the front, past his flailing hands, and hit the floor with
the sound of a large cabbage. This unseemly situation had distracted Chesney's
number two, who was disarmed by a blast from Spike's shotgun. I didn't see why
Spike should have all the fun so I ran forward and caught Chesney's head on
the bounce and expertly booted it through the door of the arcade, where it
scored a direct hit on the SlamDunk! basketball game, earning three hundred
points.
Spike had thumped the now confused and headless Chesney in the stomach and
retrieved both my automatics. I grabbed the President and we legged it for the
car park while Chesney's head screamed obscenities from where he was stuck
upside down in the SlamDunk! basket.
Spike smiled as we reached his car. 'Well, Chesney really lost his '
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'No,' I said, 'don't say it. It's too corny.'
'Is this some sort of theme park?' asked Formby as we bundled him into Spike's
car.
'Of a sort, Mr President,' I replied as we reversed out of the car park with a
squeal of tyres and tore towards the exit ramp. No one tried to stop us and a
couple of seconds later we were blinking in the daylight and the rain of
the M4 westbound. The time, I noticed, was 5.03 lots of time to get the
President to a phone and oppose Kaine's vote in Parliament. I put out my hand
to Spike, who shook it happily and returned my gun, which was still covered in
the desiccated dust of Chesney's hoodlum friend.
'Did you see the look on his face when his head started to come off?' Spike
asked, chuckling. 'Man, I
live for moments like that!'
29
The Cat Formerly Known as Cheshire
DANISH KING IN TIDAL COMMAND FIASCO
In another staggering display of Danish Cupidity, King Canute of Denmark
attempted to use his authority to halt the incoming tide, our reporters have
discovered. It didn't, of course, and the Dopey Monarch
was soaked Danish authorities were quick to deny the story and rushed with
obscene haste to besmirch the excellent and unbiased English press with the
following hies: 'For a start it wasn't Canute, it was
Cnut
,' began the wild and wholly unconvincing tirade from the Danish minister of
propaganda. 'You English named him Canute to make it sound less like you were
ruled by foreigners for two hundred years. And
Cnut didn't try to command the sea it was to demonstrate to his overly
flattering courtiers that the tide wouldn't succumb to his will. And it all
happened nine hundred years ago if it happened at all.' King
Canute himself was unavailable for comment.
Article in
The Toad
, 18 July 1988
We told the President that yes, he was right - the whole thing was some sort
of motorway services theme park. Dowding and Parks were genuinely pleased to
get their President back, and Yorrick Kaine cancelled the vote in Parliament.
Instead, he led a silent prayer to thank providence for returning Formby to
our midst. As for Spike and me, we were each given a post-dated cheque and
told we would be sure to receive the 'Banjulele with Oak Clusters' for our
steadfast adherence to duty.
Spike and I parted after the tiring day's work and I returned to the SpecOps
office, where I found a slightly annoyed Major Drabb waiting for me near my
car.
'No Danish books found again, Agent Next!' he said through clenched teeth,
handing me his report.
'More failure and I will have to take the matter to higher authority.'
I glared at him, took a step closer and prodded him angrily in the chest. I
needed Flanker off my case until the Superhoop at the very least.
'You blame me for your failings?'
'Well,' he said, faltering slightly and taking a nervous step backward as I
moved even closer, 'that is to say '
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