Bryn reset the bingo machine and started the next game.

“The first number out for a line on your bottom ticket, then carry on for a full house … man alive, number five … two little ducks, twenty two ..”

“Quack ! Quack !” shouted some of the players.

“Key of the door, twenty one, Debbie McGee, number three …”

“I like that, not a lot, but I like it.”    

“Rise and shine, twenty nine … on it’s own number nine … par for the course, seventy two … two fat ladies, eighty eight … “

“Sexist !” shouted Stephanie.

The game continued and eventually one of the players got a line. This time it was Garth. Bryn checked his ticket, verified the winning numbers and then continued …

“Line correct. Carry on for the full house … Kelly’s eye, number one … dirty knees, thirty three … snakes alive, fifty five … Danny La Rue, fifty two … Gordon’s den, number ten.”

“Not for much longer, I hope,” muttered Marvin.

“Everyone’s favourite, sixty nine.”  

There were chuckles from some of the players. I did not understand that one and decided to ask one of the other players after the game. As more numbers were called out, the excitement grew once again in the room.

“Someone must be sweating,” commented Toby.

“Not me, I have my hydraulic cooling system activated.”

“Clickety click, sixty six … dancing queen, seventeen … Bobby Moore, number four … Brighton Line, fifty nine …”

I now became very excited. There was only one number left to cross off on my ticket.

“Torquay in Devon, eighty seven.” That was the one I wanted.

“House !” I barked loudly.

Bryn and some of the other players jumped.

“Well done, Essenne,” congratulated Stephanie.

She picked up my ticket and went over to check the numbers with Bryn.

“House correct,” confirmed the caller.

Stephanie picked up the winnings from the bar and handed them to me.

I liked this game. Not only was eighty seven the winning number, it was also one I could comment on, so I did  …

“By the way, did I mention that I once visited a rather quaint little hotel in Torquay. Lovely place it was, with some really interesting views.”

Alvin and the others suspected that this may well be a joke, an anecdote, or just some clever linguistic manipulation but they asked me to continue anyway …

“Oh yes, there was a small café and snack bar run by Sid, one of the locals; some very impressive horticultural displays suspended outside a house owned by a former rugby star, and at certain times in the evening you could see numerous varieties of avian creatures flying over vehicles in the nearby railway station.”  

There were blank and puzzled looks all round. I could sense they were all wondering what I going on about ?

“Would you care to explain ?” asked Rowenta.

“Of course, I was referring to Sidney’s Coffee House, the hanging garden baskets of Barry John, and birds and wild geese swooping majestically across the trains. Well, what would expect to see out of a Torquay hotel bedroom window ?”

The room was filled with a mixture of groans and laughs.

“Nice one, hun. Now what would you like to drink ?” asked Stephanie.

“I think I’ll have a large WD40 and a can of Torro Rosso as the Italians or formula one racing team might call it.”

“Are you talking bullocks again ?” said Garth.

“Probably,” I replied, “I usually do when I’m well oiled !”

The bingo machine was put away for another week, the used tickets were thrown on the log burner, which was a bit pointless as it wasn’t lit, and Stephanie began spraying the tables with some strange smelling liquid. Dirk made a few exaggerated coughs and went outside for another cigarette.

As midnight approached, I reflected on another entertaining evening at my favourite pub and contemplated what to do tomorrow …

“Perhaps Teeza could do that for me. She likes polishing brass things.”

I logged back on to the ship’s computer and checked out the Bush Inn website. Tuesday night was bingo night but I did not know what bingo was. I entered “Bingo” into the search engine and studied the results …

Bingo – A game of chance in which each player taking part has one or more cards printed with fifteen different numbers arranged on a three by nine grid. When the respective numbers are drawn and announced by a caller, the player marks them off on the card. The first player to mark off a complete row of numbers or all the numbers on the card is declared the winner.

Some further research into the game showed that each of the numbers from one to ninety had one or more different nicknames which the caller could include when announcing the number drawn.  I was puzzled by some of these names and their origins but decided that the best way to find out was to go and play the game myself.

So just after eight that evening, I rolled into the lower bar of the Bush. At first I thought the bar was empty but then I spotted Stephanie sitting at one of the tables doing a crossword. She turned towards me.

“Hello Essenne, back again so soon. You really must like this place.”

“Oh yes,” I replied, sounding a bit like Churchill (the dog from the insurance advert, not the famous British politician). “It cetainly has a number of attractions, including your good self.”

Stephanie blushed slightly, put down her magazine and went behind the bar.  I ordered a can of WD40 then positioned myself next to the leather sofa by the side wall. Stephanie brought my drink over and placed it on the nearby table. I had a feeling of déjà vu … again.

“Where is everyone ? I thought tonight was bingo night.”

“Don’t worry. It’s still early yet and most of the regulars don’t come in until at least nine o’clock,” replied Stephanie.

“Guess I’ll just have to help you with your crossword then.”

“Okay. How about occupation that would suit a bibliophile …nine letters beginning with L.”

“Er …. Librarian,” I suggested.

“Oh yes,” replied Stephanie, looking a little embarrassed.

As the evening progressed, and a number of regular (and a few irregular) customers began filtering into the bar as Stephanie had suggested. First there was Alvin the teacher followed by Bryn the bingo caller and Marvin the local brewer.

Later they were joined by Dirk and Garth, who ordered their pints and then promptly disappeared outside for a cigarette. Meanwhile, I had been chatting to Bryn who had explained to me how the game of bingo (or Bryngo as he preferred to call it) worked. It all sounded quite straightforward and I was looking forward to playing.

Just after ten o’clock Stephanie placed what appeared to be some sort of electronic random number generator on the bar and began selling the bingo tickets to the customers.  I purchased a ticket, returned to my table and waited for the game to start. Twenty or so minutes passed and there was still no sign of the bingo starting. I was getting a little impatient.

“What are we waiting for ?”

“TK,” replied Bryn.      

“Who or what is TK ?”

“TK is Toby Katbreederson, one of the regulars. He should be here any minute. He never misses the bingo.”  

As if on cue, Toby came marching into the lower bar followed by his daughter Rowenta. He looked at Stephanie and said, “Two pints of Crow please, when you are ready.”

Stephanie poured the drinks, sold Toby and Rowenta some bingo tickets and then turned to Bryn.

“I think we are all ready to go now.” 

Bryn turned on the bingo machine and pressed the select button.

“Eyes down, the first number out for a line on your top ticket only … unlucky for some, thirteen … Burlington Bertie, number thirty … life’s begun, forty one … bullseye, number fifty …” 

“Great, smashing, super,” I thought as I crossed off the first number on my top ticket.

“Tom Mix, number six … legs eleven … droopy drawers, forty four …”

All the players in the bar were concentrating intently on their cards and marking off the numbers as they were called out. Some of the players appeared to be having more success than others.

“Bring back the balls !” called out Toby, somewhat predictably.

Bryn continued calling out the numbers and the tension in the room mounted as several of the players got closer to completing a line.

“Garden gate, number eight … Winnie the Pooh, forty two … Heinz varieties, fifty seven … top of the shop, ninety.”

There were several oohs and aahs as numbers were feverishly crossed off the cards and the anticipation grew.

“Stairway to heaven, twenty seven.”  There was complete silence.

“Hmm, not a good number,” I thought, “About as popular as a lead balloon of German origin.”

“Duck and dive, twenty five … seventy seven, sunset strip.”

“House !” shouted Dirk.

“Well done Dirk,” said Stephanie. “Now you can afford to buy your own pizza,” she added with a wry grin.

Bryn checked Dirk’s card and announced “Line correct.”

“Wakey ! Wakey ! Tin Dog.”

I opened my eyes, let out a huge yawn and then trundled slowly from my quarters, along the corridor and into the console room.

“Ah … there you are,” said the computer, “I was wondering when you were going to get up. Good night last night was it ?”

“Er … yes … I think so … what day is it ?”

“Monday,” replied the computer.

“I don’t like Mondays.”

“That’s because the silicon chip inside your head gets switched to overload,” sang the computer with just a hint of an Irish accent.

“Huh ?”

“Oh never mind, I’ll explain later,” chuckled the computer.

I wasn’t really in the mood for jokes. I was nursing a mild hangover and had a very busy day ahead. The ship was in need of a good spring clean (even though technically it was Autumn) and needed a few supplies from Q and B or Housebase in the town centre.

The whole morning was spent tidying up my quarters, workshop and console room. I even swept most of the corridors, which for a ship that is significantly bigger on the inside than the outside, is a LOT of corridors !

In the afternoon, I bought some new cleaning materials and a six pack of WD40 (just in case they had run out at the pub).

By five o’clock the ship looked clean and tidy and I was knackered ! After resting for a couple of hours and listening to some classical music (Bach, one of my favourite composers) I needed some fresh air and company. So, not surprisingly I went to the Bush …

As I rolled lethargically into the lower bar, I spotted Teeza the barmaid putting some bottles of Bongles cider in the fridge. She turned towards me.

“Are you alright Essenne ? You look rather tired.”

“Just another manic Monday, but I am sure I will feel much better after a WD40 and Red Bull.”

“Coming right up. I’ll bring it over to your table if you like.”

“Thank you very much.” I replied.

“No worries, babes,” said the barmaid.

I positioned myself next to the leather sofa by the side wall. Teeza brought my drink over and placed it on the nearby table. I was just about to take a sip of my drink when Alvin, one of the regular customers got up from the table near the fireplace and made his way towards the bar. I noticed that he was walking in a rather unusual way.

“New shoes ?” I enquired.

“Yes, they were a present from North Africa. They are very light and comfortable but they make you walk like an Egyptian !”

 Teeza laughed and then asked Alvin what he would like to drink.

“I’ll have a bottle of cider please, but none of that cloudy Bongles stuff. The last bottle I had looked like a hazy shade of winter.”

Teeza placed a few ice cubes in a pint glass, opened a bottle of Longbow cider and placed them both on the bar.

“By the way, where’s Melanie tonight ?” asked Alvin.

“She managed to get some tickets to see her favourite football team. She’s going down to Liverpool tomorrow morning so she’s got the night off.”

“So there is just you serving tonight then ?”

“Yes, just me … Teeza the trooper.”

“You’re a star Teeza, forever the bright spark behind the bar, like an eternal flame you might say.”

The barmaid blushed. Suddenly I had an idea. I turned to face the jukebox in the upper bar and sent it an invisible infra-red command. As if by magic, a track began playing and a gentle and familiar song came through the speakers …

“Close your eyes, give me your hand …”

Teeza turned and stared at me.

“Did you do that Essenne ?” she asked

“Affirmative, mistress.”

“Cheers, babes … you sentimental old dog.”

Now it was my turn to blush, or at least I would have, if my exterior chameleonic circuits had been switched on. I returned to my drink, humming along to the tune playing on the jukebox.

 The next few hours were spent happily chatting with Teeza, Alvin and some of the other regulars who turned up later that evening, some later than others.

Just before Monday evening morphed seamlessly into Tuesday morning, I decided that it was time to leave. As I was going out through the door, Alvin said to me “Hey Essenne, you really like this place don’t you ?”

“Oh yes … and to quote the Governor of California … I’ll be back.”

“Right folks, it’s quiz time. Question number one … if feline relates to cats and canine to dogs, what does ovine relate to ?” 

Dirk and the others were unusually silent and looked towards me for inspiration and preferably an answer.

“Sheep,” I said confidently. “If the rest of the questions are as easy as that one we should win this quiz.”

They weren’t all as easy and a few too many obsure sports questions dented our confidence somewhat.

After thirty minutes or so Steve had asked all twenty questions and Josie came round to collect the answer sheets from the teams. Shortly afterwards Steve’s voice came over the speakers with the results …

“In fourth place we have the Bush Babes with sixteen points, third were Persian Delight with twenty one, in second place the UCML with twenty two and this week’s winners are the Bad Sheep with twenty three.”

“Marvellous,” said Dirk, a big grin spreading across his face. He thanked me for some of the answers before going off to the bar to buy a round of drinks to celebrate our victory. 

Meanwhile Josie had got one of the customers in the upper bar to draw the raffle ticket for Open the Box and Steve announced the winning number …

“For the chance to open the box and win two hundred pounds is blue ticket number twenty three.”

I looked at the strip of tickets on the table in front of me … they were numbers twenty one to twenty five.

“It looks like twenty three is your lucky number tonight,” said Kevin.

“Indeed,” I replied.

I started to make my way to the upper bar, and then remembered the steps that joined the two rooms.

“Oh boll… !” I cursed somewhat louder than intended.

“Accessibility difficulties again ?” asked Teeza.

“Affirmative, mistress,” I replied.

Marvin came to my rescue once again. He put down his drink, carried me up the small flight of steps and then placed me gently on the floor by the pool table.

“Thank you very much.”

“No worries,” replied Marvin returning to the lower bar and his pint.

I moved forward and looked at the wall of boxes. Josie approached me with a bag containing five numbered balls. I asked one of the customers in the upper bar to pick out one of the balls. It was ball number four.

Josie returned the ball to the bag and then Steve said “Essenne, you can now open the box.”

I moved a little closer to the boxes, took aim and then fired a quick blast from my laser at box number four. I must have miscalculated the firing range as both boxes three, four and five exploded, showering myself, the pool table and the surrounding area with tiny fragments of wood.

“You’re not supposed to blow the bloody doors off !” exclaimed Steve.

“Ah … sorry about that,” I apologised.

“I should think so,” said Steve.

“By the way, did I win ?” I added rather sheepishly.

“Well actually, the money was in box four, so I guess you did.”

Steve, still shaken by the blast handed over the two hundred pounds.

I was feeling a bit guilty about wrecking the boxes so I returned twenty pounds to Steve.

“Here, take this … I think you may need some new boxes.”

I returned to the rest of the Bad Sheep in the lower bar, and offered to buy them a drink or two with the winnings.

“Well that was all quite exciting,” said Rhiannon. “The Sunday night quiz  doesn’t normally end with a bang.”

“Indeed,” agreed Dirk.

The Bad Sheep and myself then spent the rest of the evening chatting away with Marvin and the barmaids, partaking of the local ales until around midnight, when the landlord told us it was time to flock off … in the nicest possible way, of course.

Once inside, I spotted Dirk Powers, his father Kevin and two other humans sat at the table in the corner.

“Hey, Essenne why don’t you come over and join us,” suggested Dirk.

“Thank you. I’ll just go and get a drink first.”

“I’ll get that,” said Kevin. “What would you like ?”

“A pint of Crow please,” I replied.

Kevin went to the bar to order the drink and went over to the table where Dirk and his friends were sitting. Dirk introduced the other two people at the table.

“These are two of my best friends Nathaniel Parsons and Rhiannon Buckingham – Nicks.”

“What interesting names,” I thought. “I wonder if their respective parents were fans of War of the Worlds and Fleetwood Mac.”

Kevin returned from the bar and placed the pint of Crow on the table in front of me.  I nodded appreciatively.

“Are you going to join us for the quiz ?” asked Dirk.

“Certainly, I have travelled quite extensively in time and space you know.”

“You should come in handy for the history and science questions then,” suggested Rhiannon.

“If they have any,” commented Dirk. “Last week they seemed to be somewhat biased towards sport and particularly football.”

“Hmm … I don’t know too much about football … I always preferred frisbee golf myself.”

“I doubt if Steve the Quiz has even heard of frisbee golf,” said Dirk. “Come to think of it, I’m not too sure what it is myself.”

“I’ll explain later.”

Shortly afterwards Josie came down and started handing out answer sheets and picture quizzes to the various teams who had now gathered in the lower bar.  She collected the money from each group and noted down the team  names … The Upper Cwmbran Moderation League, Persian Delight, The Bush Babes (who I assumed must be the barmaids) and last, but not least the Bad Sheep, which was our team.

“I see the Bad Sheep have a new member this week,” said Josie.

“That’s right, we have invited Essenne to join us,” replied Dirk.

“Well best of luck everyone and don’t forget that Open the Box is worth two hundred pounds this week.” 

“What’s Open the Box ?” I asked.

Josie then explained that you buy raffle tickets for two pounds a strip and if you win the raffle you pick a numbered ball from a bag. The ball corresponds to one of the remaining boxes, one of which contains the jackpot and the others contain booby prizes.

I considered asking Josie what a ‘booby prize’ was but decided to ask Dirk or one of the others later.

“As there are only five boxes left you have a twenty percent chance of winning the money,” said Josie.

I weighed up the possibilities, probabilities and odds of winning the money and decided to have a go. Josie sold me a strip of tickets and then went back to the upper bar to chat with Steve the Quiz.

Dirk and the other Bad Sheep were studying the picture quiz. This week it was ten famous sci-fi characters from TV, film and literature. Dirk quickly wrote down the answers to four of them and then passed the sheet round the table for me to have a look.

“That chap with the big grin, floppy hat and long multi-coloured scarf looks rather familiar.”

“Who’s that ?” asked Kevin.

“That’s Who or rather the Doctor as he prefers to be called these days.”

“Of course,” said Dirk writing the answer below the picture.

I took another look at the pictures. They had already identified some of the characters as Captain Kirk, R2D2, Flash Gordon and Marvin the Paranoid Android. By sheer coincidence Marvin the local brewer was standing by the bar looking rather depressed and muttering into his pint …

“Beer … huh … don’t talk to me about beer.”

“Oh do cheer up, Marvin. We’ll be getting some more pickled eggs in tomorrow,” said Teeza the barmaid, trying to lighten the mood.

“Tomorrow is another day,” said Marvin glumly.

“Now you sound like that chap from Gone with the Wind,” said Teeza. “Which is rather appropriate if you have been eating pickled eggs.”

The barmaid laughed. Marvin just sighed and continued sipping his pint.

On Saturday I discovered that not everyone in this cosy Welsh town enjoyed a drink (in moderation, of course) and that some were quite fanatical in their preaching of alcoholic abstinence.  More significantly, from a universal point of view, I had encountered an alien sheep called O-Vine, a fascinating creature who I was sure I would meet up with again.

It was late Sunday afternoon and I had just returned from Cwmbran town centre after having lunch in Wetherforks. They didn’t sell WD40 there so I had tried a couple of bottles of WKD (the blue variety) instead which looked rather like Copper Sulphate and tasted just as bad ! 

Feeling rather tired after having made my way up from the town centre (no buses on a Sunday), I trundled inside the ship, made my way to the workshop and plugged myself into the mains charger for half an hour to rejuvenate my almost exhausted power cells.

By six o’clock I was electrolytically re-fuelled, but still feeling rather ‘fuzzy’ in the mental processing unit. I decided to rest for a while before planning what to do that evening.  I couldn’t find the alarm clock anywhere (having forgotten I had destroyed it on Saturday morning), so I instructed the ship’s computer to wake me at seven.

“Affirmative,” replied the computer, in an almost mocking tone. I just let out a quiet growl and nodded off to sleep.

“Bing ! Bing ! Bing !” went the computer. It then realised that this may be somewhat ill-advised following the events of Saturday morning, and rapidly changed the alarm tone to something more subtle and less irritating. 

I awoke from my slumbers and focused my eyes on the wall clock. It was just after seven. Feeling in need of a cuppa I wandered into the corridor and ordered a tea, Baron Grey, hot from the vending machine.

“Ah … that’s much better,” I thought as I sipped the tea. Suitably awake and refreshed I then made my way to the console room, logged onto the computer and checked out the Bush Inn website. 

“Hmm … it looks like it’s been updated recently.” I checked out the various sections on the site and then clicked on the ‘What’s On’ link at the bottom of the Home page …

Monday:            Free Pool and World Cuisine Appreciation.

Tuesday:            Bingo with Bryn ‘Bring Back The Balls’ Davidson.

Wednesday:      Pool Night.

Thursday:          Ladies Darts Night.

Friday:                Chart Hits and more with Steve the Clothes Maker.

Saturday:           Five Decades of Music with the other Steve.

Sunday:             General Knowledge Quiz, Open the Box plus Tunes.

“How very interesting. I shall have to pay a visit to the Bush on different nights.” I wasn’t sure about Saturdays though, discos were not really my thing, and just five decades of music seemed rather limited to a tin dog who had travelled through time and space. 

Sundays however looked more exciting. I enjoyed quizzes, as they were always an opportunity to gain knowledge. I was curious to know what ‘Open the Box’ was all about, but I had no idea where the cherry menthol or honey flavoured cough sweets figured in the evening’s entertainment !

Suddenly it dawned on me … which considering it was early in the evening was somewhat anachronistic … today was Sunday !

“Right, quiz night it is then.” I logged off the computer, opened the main door and left the ship.  It was a cool, but dry evening as I proceeded down the lane towards the Bush …

O-Vine smiled and then continued, “We enjoy intelligent conversation and generally relaxing in the company of like minded beings in warm and friendly surroundings. We are also very proud of our history, art and literature.”

“Does that include poetry because I know a charming young lady who writes poems.”

“It certainly does” replied O-Vine. “I often like to read poetry when I am relaxing with a glass of wine or brandy. One of my personal favourites is a short verse called Palm 23. I have a copy stored on my portable computer, if would you like to take a look.”

O-Vine handed over a small rectangular computer. The following text was displayed on the blue screen:

The Landlord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me sit down on green sofas, he leadeth me beside the still and sparkling waters.

He restoreth my Bols, he leadeth me in the paths of Allbright and Guinness for his pub name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of meths, I will fear no Bovril, for thou art with me, thy food and thy staff will Southern Comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of wine enemies; thou anointest my head with Felinfoel and my glass runneth over.

Surely Guinness and Kirsty shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Landlord for ever and ever … Cheers.

“That’s marvellous. It reminds me of a small place not very far from here where I have met some people who have a similar cultural background to yourself. Maybe you should go there one evening.”

“What, with me looking like a sheep ?” said O-Vine.

“That’s a good point. Perhaps you should change your appearance to a dog first, they like dogs,” I replied with a smile.

“I might just do that. I’m getting rather bored with eating grass all day.”

Having solved the mystery of the Bad Sheep (probably) and made a new friend with an alien sheep, my work for the day was done and I returned to the ship for a quiet night in.

“Hey, be careful with that laser. You could have turned me into roast mutton !”  exclaimed the sheep.

“Unlikely,” I replied. “Firstly, I wasn’t aiming directly at you, and secondly you are not a real sheep, are you ?”

The sheep looked well kind of sheepish and confessed.

“Alright, I’m not a real sheep. I’m a shape shifter called O-Vine, but I come here in peace.”

“You come from where, exactly ?”

“The twin planets of Bacchus and Dionysus. We landed here a few months ago, disguised ourselves as different animals and began to survey the area. Our mission is to determine if this land is suitable for the integration of our species.”

I noticed that the sheep had said ‘we’ and asked “So how many alien shape shifting animals are there in Cwmbran ?”

“I’m not sure. There were twenty of us originally, but Ur-Chin who was disguised as a hedgehog got run over. However, Ro-Ger and Jess-Ica have probably increased our numbers by now.”

“How’s that ?” I asked.

“They both took the form of rabbits,” replied O-Vine with a grin.

“Could you tell me more about your mission ?”

“Sure” replied O-Vine. “As long as you are not one of those religious fanatics from the local church. I’ve heard them ranting on and on about the evils of alcohol, and trying to persuade everyone they meet that abstinence is the only true way of living a full and meaningful life.”

“I know. I met one of them earlier. I wasn’t expecting the Cwmbranish inquisition ! They even told me to be wary of the bad sheep. They weren’t referring to you by any chance, were they ?”

“I don’t think so” replied O-Vine “You are the first one to realise that I am not a real sheep. I think they were referring to the Young Sheep, a popular drinking establishment up the hill towards Pontypool.”

“But why did they pick on that particular place ?”

“I think it was because some of them were barred from there after making ridiculous complaints about their opening hours,” explained O-Vine.

“Serves them right. Anyway, I’ve had enough of religion for one day, you were going to explain about your mission here.”

“Oh yes,” said O-Vine. “We are hoping to bring the rest of our species to this planet in the future providing that we can find a suitable community that is compatible with our culture.”

“Can you tell me more about your species and culture ?”

“I wonder what that means ?”

I ran the phrase though my universal translator and it came back with “Bad Sheep”. This was intriguing as it was the same phrase that had been painted on the side of the ship just a few days earlier. Further investigation was required.

I was about to head up towards the mountain when I saw a small group of people coming out of the church opposite. A tall, grey-haired man at the front of the group strode purposefully towards me.

“Hi, I’m Terry Watts, chairman on the Upper Cwmbran Abstinence League. We’ve just finished our weekly meeting and have decided to join forces with another like minded body of people in the area.”

“Really, who’s that ?” I asked.

“UCANT” he replied.

“Well, there’s no need to be rude. I was only asking.”

“It’s an acronym for Upper Cwmbran Against Non Teetotallers.”

“Oh I see,” I replied not really knowing what he was talking about.

“Would you like to join us ?” asked Terry.

“That’s very kind of you, but no thanks. I’m rather fond of the odd glass of WD40 and have recently developed a taste for Crow Valley bitter.”

“The demon ale,” said Terry. “It’s brewed by Martians you know.”

“Actually, I think you’ll find it’s brewed by Marvin.”

“Whatever it’s chosen name, all alcohol is evil, and should be banished forever from God’s fine Earth. Beware the bad sheep !” warned Terry.

This was beginning to sound like a sermon and I couldn’t help feeling that Terry and his band of followers may have been responsible for the graffiti on the ship and the bus shelter. I hastily bid Terry farewell and then continued with the journey up the mountain.

As I passed by a large field I sensed that I was being watched. There were over a hundred sheep grazing in the field, but there was one solitary sheep, slightly larger and darker than the rest, standing by the gate who seemed to be following my every movement along the narrow country road.

I turned and moved slowly towards the gate. The lone sheep backed off slightly and bleated rather unconvincingly. I was not fooled. I took careful aim and fired a short blast from my laser just in front of the sheep …

“Stop !” I ordered, a bit louder this time, but still the alarm went on. The “Bing ! Bing !” noise was bouncing around inside my head like a large marble in an empty bicuit tin and was not the most pleasant of sensations first thing in the morning.  When I realised that the voice recognition system on the alarm was not going to work, I decided on a different course of action. A quick blast from my laser instantly turned the alarm clock into a molten lump of electronic components and plastic. Silence … at last.

The noise had disappeared, but my head was still feeling a bit ‘fuzzy’.

I wandered over to the medicine cabinet in the corner of the workshop and looked inside. There were numerous plasters, bandages, potions and pills but I could not see what I was looking for. I turned to the computer and asked, “Are there any aspirins onboard the ship ?”

“Negative,” replied the computer. “The parrot’s ate ‘em all !”

This puzzled me. I could not remember ever seeing birds in the ship, never mind one as large and conspicuous as a parrot. I asked the computer for clarification. 

“What parrot ?”

“It was a joke,” chuckled the computer.

“Maybe, but not a very funny one. Any more quips like that and you’ll go the same way as the alarm clock.”

“Sorry,” apologised the computer. “May I suggest a strong black coffee and some fresh air.”

“That’s not such a bad idea,” I thought so I wandered over to the vending machine in the corridor outside the workshop and ordered a large espresso with two sugars. I returned to the workshop and slowly sipped the coffee. After about thirty minutes the caffeine started to take effect and my head began to clear. Feeling much improved and alert I went to the console room. The control panel in the centre was humming gently.

“Ah … that’s much better.”

The noise of the control panel was far more soothing than the Mad Toad alarm I had destroyed earlier that morning.  I checked the surveillance cameras to see if anything was happening outside the ship. It was all very quiet.  Occasionally a rabbit or grey squirrel would dart across the narrow lane and disappear into the hedgerow opposite, but apart from that there was no sign of life. I opened the main door and went outside …