

Villainous Vic

By Nathan A. Jones

© 2012 Nathan A. Jones. All rights reserved.

Cover illustration by Sharon Davey

© 2017 Sharon Davey. All rights reserved.

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# Bogamus and Friends Series

Bogamus the Troll

Villainous Vic

Bogamus in Space

# Contents

Previously

Escape

Police Duty

Bealey Bugle - Monday

Police Briefing

On the Run

Edith and Vera

An Important Delivery

Bealey Bugle - Tuesday

Town Hall Tour

Out and About

Bealey Bugle - Wednesday

Grand Unveiling

Theft

Police Investigations

Bealey Bugle - Thursday

In the Office

On the Beat

Jumble Sale

Clearing Up

Bealey Bugle - Friday

Justice

Happy Endings

Bogamus in Space

#  Previously

'My oh my, what do we have here then?' said police constable George. As a new recruit George was yet to see much crime in the quiet town of Bealey. In spite of this George was certain that what he could see was not altogether normal. He was looking at what seemed to be a perfectly unremarkable lamppost, exactly the same as all the others in Bealey. Or at least it would be unremarkable were it not for the large sack that lay at its base, crammed full of people's belongings with the word "SWAG" printed on the side. At the top of the lamppost there was a man wearing a black and white stripy jumper. George thought he could hear the man moaning.

'Now sir, why don't you come down and give yourself up,' said George. 'Where are you going to run to? You can't go up any higher and I'm down here waiting for you.'

'I'm not coming down. There's a troll down there. It's not safe,' cried the man.

'There's a what?'

'A troll! A big, green, lumbering troll with enormous arms who wants to do bad fings to poor burglars like me.'

'Excuse me sir, are you saying that you won't come down because there is a troll in the area?' asked P.C. George.

'Yeah, a troll! Big and green he is, you can't miss 'im. I'm not coming down.'

'And he wants to do bad things to you?'

'Bad, bad fings. I'm not coming down.'

'And why might a large green troll want to do "bad things" as you call them?'

'You see, my name's Vic, although most people call me Villainous Vic, and I've been doing a bit of, er, innocent burglarising this evening.'

'Innocent burglarising?' said George.

'Well, maybe not that innocent,' replied Vic. 'But anyway, I was just nabbing some swag when this great big, green troll bursts in. I guess he didn't like me doing my burglarising.'

'But surely there's no such thing as trolls, everybody knows that.'

'I'm telling you this troll is real,' screamed the burglar who was in no mood for logic or debate. 'He's ten feet tall and green and he put me up 'ere. I'm not coming down until that troll's gone.'

P.C. George thought for a moment. 'Now what if I could take you to a building where there are no trolls?'

'No trolls? Are you sure?'

'I can guarantee it. They put bars on the windows to stop trolls getting in.'

'A place where trolls can't get in! Are you saying that I could go to this building and there would definitely be no trolls?'

'Definitely.'

'How long could I stay there?'

'As long as you like.'

'And you can take me there now?'

'You could come in my police car. We'd be there in no time.'

'And I'd never have to face a troll again?'

'Not one.'

'Ever, ever, ever again?'

'Not ever.'

Villainous Vic looked around. From the top of the lamppost he could see a long way and there didn't seem to be any trolls about right now. If he was quick he might get to this safe building before the troll came back. He thought of spending the rest of his days in a place with no trolls. He would never be chased by a troll again, never be picked up and put on top of a lamppost. What is more, no troll would ever do "bad things" to him, whatever those "bad things" might be. He would be safe from trolls. He had made up his mind.

'Ok, I'm coming down,' said Vic.

'Very good sir,' replied P.C. George.

Actually, the troll was real, although only a few people in the town of Bealey ever got to see him. The troll, who was called Bogamus, does not appear in this story, although some of the people who were lucky enough to see a real live troll will appear. Bogamus, who was not a bad sort as trolls go, had a great many adventures, which you can read about in the book Bogamus the Troll. Perhaps you've already read it. If not, then don't worry, you don't need to have read it to enjoy this story.

As I'm sure you have guessed George took Villainous Vic off to prison. With there being no trolls in prison he might have spent the rest of his life there quite happily, but a few short months later that all changed.

#  Escape

'Oi Vic, wot you up to?'

'Never you mind Tel, go back to your bunk and pretend like you never saw nothin'.'

'But I can't see nothin', it's dark in here.'

Indeed, in the depths of the night the inside of the prison cell was pitch black. Toothsome Terry, the notorious "Bealey Brigand" and Vic's cellmate, had been woken from his slumbers by the sound of metal grating on metal.

'Good, that way you won't get in no trouble,' replied Vic.

'Naa, youse is up to something, I knows it. What's that noise I can hear?'

'I'm just filing the bars on our cell window.'

'Where'd you get the file from?'

'You're asking too many questions Tel. What you don't know can't get you in trouble. Know what I mean?'

'Yeah, s'pose so. But what you doing it for?'

'I is escaping, gettin' out of here. I've been cooped up in this prison cell for too long. You wanna come with me?'

'Escape! Go out there, into the outside world! No way, I know where I'm safe and I'm safe here in this cell, with four walls to protect me.'

'Fine with me, stay here if you want, but I'm getting my freedom back and taking my chances on the outside.'

'But Vic, I fought you was scared of the outside. I fought you said there's trolls on the outside. Big, green, scary trolls that will do bad things to hard working criminals like you and me. You said you was going to stay here forever in a nice safe prison.'

'Yeah I did say that, but fings change,' the filing noise stopped as Vic spoke. 'I got taken to this doctor, who told me that the troll was just my mind playing tricks on me.'

'Really?'

'Yeah, apparently there is no such fing as a troll so it can't have been a troll that chased me up a lamppost that night. It can't have been a huge, green troll that threatened to do bad fings to me, as trolls just don't exist. Apparently the troll was just an an-throw-morph-a-fing.'

'A what?'

'I'm not sure what it means either Tel, it's a big word that the doctor used. I fink it means that the troll is sort of everyfing that I've ever worried about.'

'How can that be? I worry all the time and I don't see anyfing big an' green chase me up lampposts.'

'I guess these doctors are just so clever that they invented somefing where your fears and worries can become a big, green troll. Anyway, it don't really matter, what's important is that there is no such fing as trolls. Not then, not now, not never. If there aren't any trolls then I don't need to hide in 'ere, acting like some scared-y-cat worried a troll might be about to bosh 'im.' The sound of Vic filing the cell bars started again. Vic had soon filed straight through one of the bars. He caught the falling bar and carefully placed it on the floor.

'Is this it Vic, are you going?'

'Yeah, I fink I can just fit through this gap and then I'll be outside and free again. You sure you don't want to come with me?'

'No fear Vic, I'm staying right here. This prison cell is my home and I ain't leaving it.'

'Suit yourself. It's been nice knowing you Tel but this is it, goodbye,' said Vic.

'Bye Vic,' replied Toothsome Terry.

With that Vic squeezed his thin body through the gap in the bars and disappeared into the night. Toothsome Terry sat in his bunk bed wondering what to do now that he was alone in his prison cell. He was worried, worried about his old mate Vic and what might happen to him now that he was on the outside. Lying down in his bed Terry turned on his side and said, 'I fink he's just made a terrible mistake,' before closing his eyes. Soon the only sound in the prison cell was Terry's deep snoring.

#  Police Duty

'Good evening and thank-you for holding. Welcome to the Majesto Pencil Sharpening Helpline. Majesto Pencil Sharpeners - sharpening your pencils to the point of perfection. How can I help you today?'

The sergeant at Bealey police station was a large, powerful man. But for all his strength the current night shift was presenting him with a problem. He was sitting at his desk with one hand holding a telephone receiver and one of the fingers on his other hand sticking into a machine in front of him on his desk.

'Evening all,' said Sarge, 'I'm using one of your pencil sharpeners and I seem to have a... pencil stuck in it.'

'I'm sorry to hear that sir. So, just to confirm I've understood this, you have a pencil stuck in the sharpening mechanism.'

'A pencil, yeah.'

'Well I'm glad to say sir that all Majesto Pencil Sharpeners come with a safety release mechanism, we'll have that pencil unstuck in a jiffy. You see the pencil clasping levers?'

'The ones holding the pencil in place?'

'That's correct sir. If you squeeze those levers together with one hand and press the release button on the back of the unit with the...'

'Wait a sec,' Sarge placed the telephone between his shoulder and his ear, squeezed the clasping levers and gasped as metal teeth released their grip on his finger. 'Right I'm squeezing the levers, now what?'

'With your other hand press the release button.'

'What other hand?'

'You have two hands sir?'

'Of course.'

'Well, squeeze the levers with one hand and press the release button with the other?'

'But... I can't do that?'

'Well you've got two hands haven't you sir, one for the levers and one for the button. Are you sure it's a pencil you've got stuck in the machine?'

Sarge placed the phone on the desk and, heaving himself out of his chair, peered at the back of the machine. Sure enough there was the release button. Maybe if he reached over he could press the button with his nose and release his finger. He leant over the machine straining his neck as far as he could, his nose reaching for the button. At this precise moment there was a loud knock on his office door and in sprang P.C. George.

'Something's happened at the prison sir,' blurted out George.

'You've only been here a few months, George. When you've got a few more years under your belt you'll learn when not to disturb a senior officer.'

'But a prisoner's escaped from Bealey Prison.'

'I'll deal with it in a minute George. Now leave me alone.'

'But it's Villainous Vic who's...'

'In a minute George.'

'Okay Sarge, I can see you're busy. Is everything alright with that pencil sharpener?'

'Yes, just fine. Now if you could just leave me alone for a moment.'

'Only you seem to have your finger stuck in it.'

'Well that's where you're wrong. I don't have my finger stuck, I'm just examining the machine.'

'Only if you have your finger caught then all you need to do is squeeze the clasping levers and press the release button. You'll have it free in no time.'

'Yes, I know, but I don't have my finger stuck so I don't need your help. Now if you could just leave me alone for a moment.'

'Very good Sarge,' George turned and left, shutting the door as he went.

Sarge uncoiled himself from the pencil sharpener and reaching for the telephone receiver he realised, just a little too late, that releasing the clasping levers would free the metal teeth to bite into his finger.

'Are you all right sir?' asked the helpful voice on the end of the phone.

'I'm just having a little difficulty reaching the release button.'

'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that sir. Majesto Pencil Sharpeners prides itself on the quality and usability of its mechanical pencil sharpeners. Pencils sharpened to the point of perfection, that's our motto.'

'Is there any other way to release my finger... I mean pencil from the sharpener?'

'No sir.'

'Goodbye.' Sarge put the phone down.

'It was a good job we were able to free you from the pencil sharpener,' said P.C. George. Sarge's finger was bandaged up, making it impossible for him to drive. As a result P.C. George had to drive Sarge out to Bealey Prison to investigate the breakout.

'Yeah, I suppose so. Is it much further to the prison?' replied Sarge.

'Not far now.'

Bealey Prison was a few miles out of town, with the last mile or so being a narrow country lane. George peered out through the car's lights, into the pre-dawn gloom. In the distance two lights shone back at him.

'Looks like there's a vehicle coming towards us sir,' said George.

'Yeah, so?' replied Sarge.

'Well, maybe we should ask them whether they've seen anything suspicious this morning.'

'Such as?'

'Well, maybe they caught a glimpse of Villainous Vic on the run. I mean, if he's on foot then he can't have gone too far,' said George.

'I suppose so,' replied Sarge. 'What kind of vehicle is it?'

George tried to see past the dazzle of the approaching lights.

'It looks like a... like a... like a milk float. I think we've found the milkman.'

Unable to pass each other on the narrow lane both vehicles came to a halt. P.C. George and Sarge got out of their car and approached the milk float. The driver stayed put in the cab of his milk float.

'A little early to be out and about would you not say?' asked Sarge.

'Well, er, you see I wos, er, just er, out an' about, er, of a morning,' replied the figure from the darkness of the cab.

'He's the milkman Sarge. They're always up early, got to do their milk rounds, to get you your milk in time for breakfast,' said George.

'Yeah, that's right, I'm the milkman an' I'm doing my milk round,' said the figure.

'Thank-you for that George. So, who are you delivering to out here then?'

'Out 'ere, crumbs I dunno. I guess there's 'ouses with people in 'em who wants their milk,' replied the figure. George strained his eyes to see into the cab, but he could not quite make out the figure in there.

'But Sarge, this road only leads to Bealey Prison,' said George, 'so either he picked up his milk there or he just delivered some.'

'Yeah, that's right, I just delivered milk to the prison, 'course I did, silly me,' said the figure.

'And now you're off to Bealey for more deliveries?' added George.

'Yeah, that's right. Gotta hurry up into town, I've got lots of milk to deliver. Can't keep the people waiting.'

'Hmmm,' Sarge thought about what he had heard. 'Well, we'd best not detain you.'

George and Sarge went back to their car and reversed back to a passing place to allow the milkman to continue on to Bealey. Before too long they were back on their way to Bealey Prison.

'What do we know about this Villainous Vic then?' said Sarge.

'Well it was me that caught him a few months ago,' replied George.

'What? You?'

'Yes. A strange one he was though. I found him at the top of a lamppost. He said there was a big, green troll about and that he wasn't coming down in case the troll got him. In the end I offered to take him to prison so that he'd be safe from the troll.'

'But I thought that Villainous Vic was the most infamous villain that Bealey has ever known?'

'Oh he is, but it turns out that the most infamous villain that Bealey has ever known happens to be scared of trolls.'

'Were there any trolls around that night?' asked Sarge.

'Of course not. There's no such thing as trolls, everybody knows that.'

'So why, if he is so scared of trolls, has he decided to escape. I mean trolls are no less real now than they were then?'

'I don't know, maybe a short stint in prison has changed him.'

'But this means that you've seen Villainous Vic, in the flesh?'

'Oh yeah.'

'So you'd recognise him if you saw him?'

'Definitely.'

A few minutes later the car pulled up at the prison gates. George showed his police badge to the prison guard on duty who opened the gates for them. As they approached the main building a figure came running through their car's headlights heading straight for them.

'Who's this now?' asked Sarge.

'It's the prison governor,' replied George as he wound down his window.

Breathless the governor arrived at their car. 'Thank-you for coming so quickly. We've had a second crime tonight. We've just found the milkman, gagged and tied. What's more, someone has stolen his uniform, his security pass and his milk float.'

'Two crimes in one night! What sort of a person lives in a place like this?' bellowed Sarge.

'Well criminals mainly, this is a prison you know,' said the governor.

'Oh yeah, I forgot,' said Sarge.

'But aren't we missing something?' said George. 'Maybe it's just one crime. Perhaps it's Villainous Vic who gagged the milkman and then made off in his milk float.'

'But we saw the milk float out on the road,' said Sarge.

'You mean you've seen Villainous Vic tonight?' asked the governor.

'Yes, it looks as though we did pass him on our way here,' said George.

'I thought you said that you'd be able to recognise him. Why didn't you say something when we saw him?'

'Maybe he recognised me and stayed in the dark of his cab so that I couldn't see him.'

#  Bealey Bugle - Monday

Bealey's Premier Newspaper

Villainous Vic Escapes

Last night Bealey's most infamous criminal, Villainous Vic, made a bid for freedom from Bealey Prison. Reports from the prison suggest that he filed his way through the bars on his cell window and lowered himself down using the sheets from his bed. His cellmate, Toothsome Terry the Bealey Brigand, is reported to have said, 'I didn't see nothin', it was dark in there and I didn't see nothin'. You can't blame me for wot I didn't see.'

In a statement the governor at Bealey Prison had this to say, 'Here in Bealey we try to understand the criminal mind in order to help the prisoners help themselves. We know that Vic has recently been very troubled by thoughts of big, green trolls and what they might do to him. I suspect that this has got something to do with his desperate action.'

In case anyone is in any doubt just how villainous Villainous Vic is, consider this: only moments after escaping from his cell Villainous Vic committed his first crime since he was locked up. We spoke to the prison milkman:

'Well I was just delivering the milk to the prison, same as everyday. I mean I guess prisoners need a bit of milk on their breakfast cereal just like the rest of us. When suddenly I get this bonk on the head and it all goes dark. I wake up a bit later and find that I've been tied up, gagged and someone has pinched my uniform.'

A tragic tale to be sure, but unlikely to be the last tale of crime in Bealey now that Villainous Vic is free. We asked Sarge at the police station what he thought:

'Well, it's not too bad now, the pain's dying down a bit and I hope to have the bandage removed in a few days. Oh, you mean what do I think about the escaped prisoner? Well it seems he escaped in a stolen milk float. We later found the abandoned milk float a few miles outside the prison on the road to Bealey. I should stress that Villainous Vic is a very dangerous criminal and should not be approached by members of the public.'

When asked about rumours that members of the police force had actually spoken with Vic since his escape Sarge said, 'There is absolutely no truth in that. The police are doing all they can to catch this dangerous criminal.'

I don't know about you but until Villainous Vic is safely locked up again then this reporter is a worried man who wants to help the police in anyway he can. Thanks to P.C. George the front page of the Bealey Bugle has a picture of Villainous Vic. If you see him, then be sure to contact the police.

New Invention

Yes, it's true, Bealey's very own inventor, Professor Rawbling, will be announcing his new, secret invention this Wednesday in Bealey Town Hall. Those of you who have not heard of Professor Rawbling will surely have heard of his inventions. Who can forget the self-eating sandwich, a sandwich that can be consumed without human intervention and was favoured by businessmen who are just too busy to waste time actually eating lunch. But let us not forget his other famous inventions, such as the self-eating breakfast (for people who can never get out of bed in time for breakfast), the self-eating cabbage (for people who don't like cabbage) and the ten minutes fast watch (for people who are ten minutes late for everything). It was due to these and his many other inventions that some people have dubbed him the "nutty inventor". We spoke to Professor Rawbling about his latest invention:

'Well I think that this invention is really going to set the world alight. I've been putting a lot of thought into what is going to change people's lives for the better and I think I've finally cracked it. This invention is really going to put Bealey on the map as the place where smart ideas come from. They'll have to stop calling me the "nutty inventor" when they see this. They'll have to start calling me the "surprisingly sensible inventor". I mean I'm not nutty, do I look even the slightest bit nutty to you? But there are spies everywhere who want to steal my inventions and so I'm having to keep my new invention secret until the official unveiling at the town hall on Wednesday.

'And another thing, what's all this escaped prisoner nonsense? My brilliant, secret, sensible invention should be the number one story. I'm going to put Bealey on the map for the next century. This Villy Vic criminal isn't going to put Bealey on anything. I mean, what's this place coming to when a hard-working inventor like me can't get the top headline.'

This reporter will have to wait and see just how sensible Professor Rawbling and his inventions have become.

Jumble Sale

There will be a jumble sale arranged by the local police force in aid of charity this Friday in Bealey Town Hall. Police officers will be touring the town collecting your old jumble during the week for the sale on Friday.

Police Constable George was quoted as saying, 'The Bealey Police jumble sale looks set to be the biggest ever this year. Be sure to get there in good time before the best bargains get snapped up.'

Judge Breaks Gavel

Judge Fotheringay at Bealey Crown Court got a surprise last week when her gavel, a small wooden mallet used by judges to keep order in court, snapped in half. She was quoted as saying:

'One minute I was shouting, "Silence in court! Silence in court!" and hammering my gavel as well as anyone can. The next thing I knew its head had popped off, leaving me waving the handle around in the air and not making any sound at all. I don't know quite how I'm going to get any judging done without my trusty gavel.'

This reporter will wait to pass judgement.

Janitor Wanted

A new janitor is needed at Bealey Town Hall. If interested then please apply in person at Bealey Town Hall.

#  Police Briefing

Bealey police station was awash with noise and excited chatter among the police officers.

'All right, that's enough,' bellowed Sarge, glaring around the room expecting quiet. 'Okay, I'm sure you've all heard last night's big news that Villainous Vic has escaped from prison.'

'Well I don't think it is really big news,' interrupted Professor Rawbling as he removed his spectacles. The professor, who had been invited to the weekly police briefing, was looking around the room and pointing his glasses at the police officers. 'Just one escaped prisoner doesn't strike me as that important, at least not when compared to my invention which will really put Bealey on the map.'

'Well, thank-you for your opinion Professor Rawbling, but Villainous Vic is not just any petty criminal,' replied Sarge. 'He's the most villainous villain in the history of villainy.'

'He'll vaporise your vitals with vip, vim and vigour,' suggested one of the police officers.

'He's a veteran versed in vanishing the value of your vault,' said George.

'Verified as a viable Viking, vetted for vice and a victor at vacating your villa,' said another policeman.

'Verily our verdict has him voted the most vicious vermin that ever vexed the vigilant and valiant,' concluded Sarge.

'You really think so?' asked the professor as he cleaned the lenses of his glasses.

'Trust me professor,' said Sarge, 'if we don't find him and arrest him soon then a wave of crime will sweep over Bealey, leaving the town a shadow of its former self.'

'Well, if you are sure then I suppose that you must do what is right,' conceded Professor Rawbling. He replaced his glasses and brushed his wiry hair out of the way of his eyes.

'Good,' said Sarge. Then turning towards the police officers in the room he continued, 'Right, Villainous Vic escaped on a milk float which we found abandoned on the road to Bealey. It looks like he's come back to town. We need to catch him before he starts stealing people's belongings. I want each and every one of you to search high and low, far and wide for him.'

'If we know he's in the town, then why do we need to search far and wide?' asked George.

'Never you mind, George.' Sarge started pacing up and down the room. He drew out his truncheon and started slapping it into the palm of his hand as he paced. 'If people start getting their stuff burgled then they will blame the police for not catching him. Do you understand?'

'Err, yeah, I err...' mumbled the officers.

'I said, do you understand?'

'Yes sir,' said the officers in unison.

'Good. We'll divide up into teams and each search a different part of town. We've got a photo of him,' Sarge pointed to a copy of Vic's front and side police photos on the wall, 'so if you see him you'll recognise him.'

'Why don't we make some copies of the photo and put them around town? That way people will know what he looks like and can tell us where he is if they see him,' said George.

Sarge stopped pacing and pointed his truncheon at George, 'When I want your ideas, George, I'll ask for them. All right?'

'Yes sir, sorry sir.'

'He's got to be hiding in the town, so if we look everywhere then we're bound to find him somewhere. Now, there's also the matter of the professor's invention.'

'Thank-you sergeant,' said Professor Rawbling. 'As you know I will be unveiling my latest invention on Wednesday of this week. This is my best one yet so there's going to be quite a crowd at the town hall eager to see my invention.'

'What exactly is your invention?' asked Sarge.

'I'm afraid that the invention is a secret and will have to remain that way until it is unveiled on Wednesday,' replied the professor. 'I need you to keep unwanted eyes away from the invention. I can't have people stealing my ideas, can I?'

'Well no, but if we don't know what your invention is then how will we know what's to be kept safe?'

'Simple,' said the professor, 'the invention will be in a wooden crate marked "Top Secret" and secured with a lock to which only I have the key. All you need to do is stop anyone touching the crate before the unveiling.'

'Right, we'll post guards around the invention twenty-four hours a day,' said Sarge.

'Isn't it possible that Villainous Vic will try to steal the invention?' suggested George. 'After all he is the most villainous villain in the history of villainy, stealing the professor's invention would be right up his street.'

'What did I say about you and your ideas George?' Sarge thrust his truncheon towards George and glared at him.

'That you would ask me when you wanted them. Sorry sir,' said George.

'When Villainous Vic sees how well guarded the professor's invention is he'll give up any idea of pinching it. I'll put a ring of steel around the invention!' Sarge was slapping his truncheon into his palm again and looking around the room.

'Well, I must say that is very encouraging,' said the professor.

'What about the...' begun George, but he stopped the moment he noticed Sarge staring straight at him.

'What about what?' shouted Sarge as he strode over to George.

'Well, er, the, er... Police Jumble Sale. We've got to collect and sort the jumble for Friday's sale,' George could sense everyone in the room looking at him. 'If we're all busy guarding and searching then there'll be nobody left to organise the jumble sale.'

'You can do it George.'

'What on my own? I can't do it all, I'll need help.'

'Everyone else is too busy. We've got an escaped prisoner to catch and a secret invention to guard. You'll have to do it on your...' As Sarge said this he drew his truncheon up into the air, until it just touched the ceiling. In a whoosh, he slammed it down hard. '... own. Arrghhh! Ooohhhh! Eeeeeh! Arrghhh!'

'Are you alright sir?' asked George.

'Of course I'm not alright,' yelled Sarge, 'I've just smashed my thumb.'

'Well, we'd better get the first aid kit and have it bandaged up then,' said George.

#  On the Run

'Mummy, what's the man doing sleeping on a bench?'

'Get away from him dear. The man is a tramp and he's dirty, you mustn't go near him. Please dear, come with mummy.'

Vic looked up from the park bench he had been sleeping on, the morning light dazzled his bleary eyes. As his vision cleared he could see the woman and her daughter walking away from him, along the edge of the duck pond in the centre of Bealey Park. So, this was freedom? This was what he had wanted?

'I fought I was bang to rights when those coppers stopped me last night,' said Vic to no one in particular. 'Lucky the coppers didn't recognise me.'

After his encounter with George and Sarge last night, Vic had realised that it would not be long before they found out that he had stolen a milk float to make his escape. He had had to ditch the milk float and had run cross-country into town. He then found himself in the park, sat down on a bench to catch his breath and fell into a deep sleep that he had only just been roused from.

'I guess I was lucky that that woman and 'er daughter didn't recognise me as well. Then again, I guess I is also lucky that there is no trolls about right now.'

Vic sat up and scanned the park. He was sitting on a bench by the duck pond, surrounded by lush, green grass. Paths led from the pond to a children's play area with swings and slides on one side of the park and onto a wooded area on the far side of the park.

'What I need to do is find a way of not being noticed until the coppers stop looking for me,' thought Vic. 'Perhaps I could find a place to hide. Those trees would make a good place to hide. Although with all the leaves it would be easier if I were green, I could just blend in and nobody would see me. Of course, if I were a troll then I would hide in the woods, a big, green troll could easily stay hidden with all those tall trees and green leaves. Nobody would know it was there, even if they walked straight past it.'

Why was he still thinking about trolls? He knew that they were not real and could only exist in his mind, the doctors at Bealey Prison had told him so. As trolls did not exist he'd be perfectly safe hiding out in the park. But what if the doctors were wrong? Was it worth taking a risk and hiding in the woods? Perhaps he should explore the rest of the town first.

Vic had another glance around the park. There didn't seem to be anyone about so he got up from the bench and left the park. He would have to ensure that no one recognised him around town. There would be too many people around the high street, it would be too dangerous to go there. But if he did not explore then he would never find a safe hiding place. Instead he would have to keep to the back streets where hopefully he wouldn't be seen by too many people and wouldn't get recognised.

Vic was lost in thoughts of hiding and police and trolls when suddenly a man walking his dog turned a corner in front of him. Quick as a flash Vic moved his hand to his forehead, trying to cover his face from the approaching man.

'Lovely morning, isn't it?' said the man.

'Oh, er, suppose so, yeah,' said Vic.

'The sun's a bit bright for you, is it? You're having to shade your eyes.'

'No not really, er, I mean yeah that's it. Gotta shade me eyes from the sun. Doctor says so.'

'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.'

'Oh, it's nuffin.'

'Well I must be going, she just can't wait,' said the man pointing at his dog.

'Phew,' thought Vic, 'that was close. I fought he was onto me.'

Cautiously Vic continued around the corner. Ahead of him was a newsagent. Just outside the store the day's newspapers were on display. Vic stopped and looked at the front pages. "Villainous Vic Escapes" read the headline in the Bugle, beneath this there was a photo of Vic and the word "Wanted". The image looked just the same as he did now, the same skinny frame, short hair and thin face. Having abandoned the milkman's uniform he now had on the same stripy top that was used in the picture and that he had been wearing the day he was caught, the day he met the troll. The only positive was that his face was now covered in stubble, while the face in the paper was clean-shaven. The paper would be all across town, everyone and anyone could recognise him. Vic grabbed a copy of the Bugle and kept walking. He didn't even pay for it.

The newspaper proved invaluable. Vic tore two small holes in the front page where the eyes in his picture were. He was then able to hide behind the newspaper as he walked but could still see where he was going. Protected by the newspaper Vic felt bolder and headed towards the town centre, listening to the conversations of passers-by.

'Did you hear that Villainous Vic has escaped?' said one passer-by to another.

'So I hear, on a milk float they say,' came the reply.

'Apparently he's somewhere in Bealey at this very moment.'

'I know, he could be right under our noses even as we speak.'

Vic kept going. Ahead of him he saw two policemen out on the beat. His heart quickened the moment he saw them. Immediately he turned into the nearest shop, which happened to be a cafe. Vic sat down at a table and, with the newspaper still raised, looked around him. The policemen had followed him in!

'What will it be dear?' said the waitress.

'Two cups of tea to go,' replied one of the policemen.

While the tea was being made the policemen chatted.

'So, we've got to look high and low for this Villainous Vic.'

'Yeah, which do you want to do?'

'I'm sorry, I don't understand.'

'Well, search high and low, which do you want to do? Search high or search low?'

'Oh, I see. I think I'll do the high.'

'The roofs and upper storeys. Ok, I'll take the low: pavements, cellars and ground floors.'

'Suits me.'

'Here's your teas,' said the waitress.

'Thanks,' replied the policemen who paid for the teas and left.

Vic's heart had been racing the whole time the policemen were in the cafe. He was just getting his thoughts together on what to do next when the waitress came up to him.

'You with your face in the paper, you can't sit there all day. What do you want to order?'

'Er, just making my mind up,' replied Vic.

'Maybe try reading the menu and not your newspaper then,' suggested the waitress.

Vic couldn't put the paper down as someone might recognise him. Instead he pointed his eyeholes at the menu in front of him. 'Just a cup of tea.'

'One cup of tea coming up,' the waitress left Vic.

Vic could not spend the rest of his life with his head buried in a newspaper. He would have to think of something else. He sat in his chair and, using the two eyeholes, looked out through the cafe's window at the stores on the other side of the road. There was a bakery, a flower shop and a butcher but Vic's eyes settled on another shop. This shop had a sign that read "The Bealey Costume Emporium" and then in smaller print "Costumes, masks and disguises for all occasions". Vic got up and left the cafe immediately.

'Ere, what about your cup of tea?' called the waitress.

But Vic was gone. He had a plan and there was no time to lose.

#  Edith and Vera

On the other side of town there were two houses and you could never hope to find two houses so charming. At their front were low, neat, square-cut hedges with a latch gate in the centre of each. From these gates led stone paths through rich, green grass to brightly painted front doors (one red, the other blue) set in white stone walls up which roses climbed and wove around the window frames. Between the houses ran a low wooden fence and on either side of the fence stood the owners of the homes.

'Good morning Edith,' said Vera, 'and how are you today?'

'Very well thank-you,' replied Edith, 'and yourself?'

'Likewise.'

To the untrained eye Edith and Vera would appear to be two perfectly normal elderly ladies and indeed that is how they appeared to everybody in Bealey. But the simple truth is that everybody was wrong. A particularly observant person might have noticed that things just seemed to work out for them or that nobody in town ever had a disagreement with Edith or Vera or that nobody was quite sure just how old they were, although they had lived in Bealey for longer than anyone could remember. You see there was a very good reason why things worked out for Edith and Vera and why people who had a disagreement with them soon saw Edith and Vera's point of view and changed their tone. Edith and Vera were not as they seemed.

'The grass is growing a little long,' said Edith.

'Yes, it could do with a mow,' replied Vera, 'my lawn as well.'

'What's more I think there'll be rain this afternoon.'

'So, we'd best get the grass cut right away.'

Edith turned and looked up the road while Vera turned the other way and looked down the road. There was nobody about. Turning to face their houses they each extended an arm and grasped each other's hand. Then, holding hands across the fence, they began to chant.

'Calling insects, spiders and bugs,

come forth and feast on grub.

Make grass that once was sown,

appear neat and mown.

Make as new the lawn,

the long grass shorn,

daisies sawn,

a sight to make all fawn.'

As they spoke a yellow light shone within their eyes. The grass around them started to stir as insects, centipedes, spiders and all manner of tiny creatures awoke. Each bug climbed the grass stems around it and bit off the top. Edith and Vera, their eyes still aglow, looked on as the grass was clipped back and the cuttings carried away by more arms and legs than can be imagined. In a few moments the grass appeared to have been freshly mown, both their lawns even had stripes rolled up and down their lengths. The glow in Edith and Vera's eyes faded and their hands parted.

'Hmmm, not bad,' said Edith looking at the results.

'Not bad indeed,' replied Vera. 'Perhaps we could also get the roses to climb a little higher up the walls of our houses?'

'I think that that's enough for today, we don't want to be greedy. Maybe a cup of tea instead?'

'My place or yours?'

'How about mine?' offered Edith.

'Why, thank-you very much,' said Vera opening her front gate to walk round to her neighbour.

A few minutes later Edith was pouring boiling water from the kettle into the teapot. Cups, saucers, a sugar bowl and teaspoons stood by expectantly.

'Did you see in the paper that a prisoner has escaped?' said Vera.

'Oh really,' replied Edith, 'did they say who he was?'

'Apparently it's Villainous Vic.'

'Wasn't he the one who was scared of Bogamus?'

(You will not be surprised to hear that Edith and Vera were among the handful of people who saw Bogamus the Troll when he visited Bealey. Indeed, for the time that Bogamus spent in Bealey, Edith and Vera counted him as a friend.)

'You know, I think he was,' said Vera.

'Do you think he might cause trouble?'

'Well, not to us.'

'Oh absolutely, not to us, I meant to the people of Bealey?' asked Edith as she poured the tea into the teacups.

'Quite possibly yes.'

'Do you think that we should do something about it?'

'Perhaps we should see if the police can manage it first?'

'I think that you are right. We should be careful, we don't want people to uncover our little secret.'

'Indeed,' said Vera.

Edith smiled and, offering Vera a cup of tea, asked, 'One lump or two?'

#  An Important Delivery

Bealey Town Hall is a grand old building situated in the heart of Bealey town centre. From the outside you first notice the two carved stone columns, then there is a short flight of steps between the columns that leads up to two enormous wooden doors. Open the doors and you enter the magnificent Great Hall. The walls of the Great Hall are covered in pictures and photographs showing scenes of life in Bealey over the centuries. But more prominent than these is the statue of Bealeca that stands in the middle of the hall. Bealeca was a Celtic queen whose tribe had made a heroic stand against the Roman invaders. The town had been named in her honour.

Normally Bealey Town Hall was a quiet refuge compared to the hustle and bustle of the high street outside, but today was different. Workmen had been busy all morning setting up a stage at the far end of the hall. Huge green curtains separated the stage from the rest of the Great Hall.

In addition to the workmen there were also a number of policemen arrayed around the room. Sarge, who now had the thumb on one hand bandaged as well as a finger on the other, was standing on the stage surveying the workmen and the police officers.

'Is it ready yet?' asked Sarge, 'Professor Rawbling will be here in a moment.'

'We're just attaching the last curtain,' replied one of the workmen. 'Oh, and then there's the ramps. We need them in place so that the crate can get through the door and up on the stage.'

'Will that take long?'

'Nah, the boys are doing it as we speak.'

Professor Rawbling's invention was being delivered to the town hall that day. A temporary stage had been set up for the unveiling of the invention on Wednesday. At Professor Rawbling's insistence curtains had been installed on the stage and police guards put in place to ensure the security of his invention. All too soon there came the sound of police sirens from outside the town hall. An approaching police escort could only mean one thing, the professor's invention was about to arrive.

'Is everything ready now?' asked Sarge.

'Yeah, the curtains are all up and the ramps are in place.'

Sarge climbed down off the stage and rushed towards the front door. The doors were wide open and he could see a large wooden crate with the words "Top Secret" written on its side being lowered from a truck onto the pavement. Professor Rawbling stood by watching.

'Careful with that, you must not damage my invention,' urged Professor Rawbling. 'I cannot stress how important it is. This invention is really going to push Bealey forward and make it a place where top inventions come from.'

Soon the invention, hidden inside its wooden crate, had been lowered onto a trolley. The professor gave the crate and the lock on its front a quick check. When he was satisfied that everything was in order the trolley, with the crate sat on top of it, was pushed up the ramp and into the Great Hall.

As soon as he entered the Great Hall Professor Rawbling grabbed his wiry hair and called out, 'No! This will not do!'

'What won't do?' asked Sarge. 'Everything looks alright to me.'

'It's the lighting in here,' said Professor Rawbling. 'How is anybody going to see me and my precious invention when the light in here is so dim?'

'That's as maybe,' said Sarge, 'but right now we need to get this invention of yours in place.'

'Yes, I suppose that you had better do that.'

The invention, or at any rate the crate that housed it, was extremely heavy. The workmen had to push and heave to get the crate up on the stage. The professor gave orders as to exactly where the trolley and the invention were to go. Eventually the workmen got the trolley in the right place.

'Right,' said the professor, 'now I want you to lift my secret invention up and put it down just here,' he pointed to the middle of the stage.

As the workmen got themselves in position to lower the invention into place Sarge moved alongside the professor right next to where the invention would go.

'So, this is where your invention is going to stay?' asked Sarge.

'Yes, my secret invention will stay in this very place until it is unveiled on Wednesday,' replied the professor. Looking at the workmen straining with the weight of the invention and its crate he continued, 'No, a bit towards me, a bit more, a little bit more. That's perfect, now put it down just there.'

The workmen put the crate down with a thud and were about to sigh with relief when Sarge screamed.

'Arrgggh! Not there!'

'Why not? Is it not secure? Can spies see it?' asked the professor.

'No!' yelled Sarge.

'Is the crate too heavy for the stage?'

'No!' yelled Sarge again.

'Then just what is the problem?'

'You've gone and dropped the crate on my toes,' screamed Sarge.

#  Bealey Bugle - Tuesday

Bealey's Premier Newspaper

Costumes Stolen

Yesterday the Bealey Costume Emporium was burgled. The store owner was quoted as saying, 'I was getting the emporium ready and had gone into the back room for a quick cup of tea before opening. I had just set the kettle to boil when I heard a noise from the store. When I went to see what was happening I found that two boxes of costumes had disappeared.'

Sarge, from the police station, had the following statement: 'Obviously we are keen to solve this crime. Thankfully there were a number of witnesses who reported seeing suspicious people in the area. As a result, we are looking to track down a man wearing a top hat and monocle, a cowboy, a spaceman, an Egyptian pharaoh and a Viking warrior. Anyone with information on these people should contact the police.'

When asked about reports that a copy of Monday's Bealey Bugle with two holes cut out of the front page had been found at the scene Sarge replied, 'We're looking into all the evidence and are leaving no stone, or in this case paper, unturned.'

When asked about rumours that Villainous Vic was responsible for the raid Sarge said, 'While the timing of this raid, coming just a day after he escaped from prison, is noteworthy it's a bit early to be drawing conclusions like that. There's no reason to suggest that Villainous Vic is responsible for this crime or that some kind of crime wave is going to sweep Bealey over the next few days.'

Professor's Invention is Safe - Say Police

Yesterday Professor Rawbling's latest invention was successfully delivered to Bealey Town Hall. The invention, which is due to be unveiled to an expectant public tomorrow, is shrouded in secrecy. Sarge from the police station was quoted as saying, 'The professor's invention is so secret that not even top policemen like myself know what it is. All we know is that it's got to be kept safe until the unveiling on Wednesday. To ensure this we have mounted a round-the-clock police guard in the town hall to keep it safe. The security in place is so tight that nobody could possibly steal it.'

Professor Rawbling had this to say, 'What do you mean I'm the second news item again? This invention of mine is going to change the way we lead our lives. It will revolutionise everything, and you are trying to tell me that a burglary at a costume shop is more important than my invention? Madness, that is absolute madness.'

Like everyone else this reporter will have to wait until tomorrow to see exactly what Professor Rawbling's new invention is.

Gavel on the Way

It was confirmed today that Judge Fotheringay has ordered a replacement gavel. She was quoted as saying, 'I tried doing the judging without my gavel, but it's just not the same. You can shout "Silence in court" all you like, but it is so much more fun when you can bang your gavel at the same time. The new gavel should be delivered any day now and I'm looking forward to getting back to the judging.'

Janitor Appointed

The Mayor of Bealey was pleased to announce that the position of town hall janitor has been filled. The mayor said, 'For a while I was concerned that nobody would come forward for the job, but I'm very pleased to say that a Mr. Phillainous Phic offered his janitorial services yesterday and seems to be just what we're looking for.' Apparently Mr. Phic has already started his new role, which will see him both working and living in Bealey Town Hall.

When asked what made him think that Mr. Phic was the right person for the job, the mayor replied, 'When Mr. Phic introduced himself he was wearing a bright red beret, a stripy jumper and sported a pencil-thin moustache. This is just the sort of smartly dressed person I want to see working in Bealey Town Hall, a real example to the people of Bealey.'

#  Town Hall Tour

'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Bealey Town Hall.'

One of the duties of the Mayor of Bealey was to act as guide for the weekly tours of Bealey Town Hall. The current mayor entered into this with gusto, insisting on wearing his mayoral regalia for each tour. He was currently stood outside the front doors of the town hall, with an umbrella held above his head and a group of four tourists in front of him. This small gathering did not seem to dampen the mayor's spirits one jot.

'Bealey Town Hall was originally built in 1888 and was designed to host civic ceremonies and serve as a headquarters for...'

The tourists listened intently as the mayor droned on about the design of the columns, the number of stairs leading up to the front doors and the town hall clock.

'It's a bit chilly out here so I think we should go inside now,' said the mayor as he started climbing the stairs. Opening the doors to the town hall he walked into the Great Hall. Standing by the statue of Bealeca he continued, 'The founders of Bealey Town Hall wanted to commemorate Bealeca, the Celtic warrior queen who ruled this part of the country over two-thousand years ago. They created this magnificent statue which, standing ten feet tall, depicts her in mid-battle, charging towards the Roman invaders. For over a century this statue has dominated the Great Hall, inspiring the citizens of Bealey.'

The mayor turned and walked into the centre of the Great Hall with the group of tourists quietly following him.

'Of course, today is not a normal town hall tour as we are currently preparing for the unveiling of one of Professor Rawbling's great inventions. We have high hopes for this invention and are sure that it will make Bealey famous. Now you can see how busy we are getting ready for the great day, but I'll just see if we can have a quick word with a new addition to our team here in the town hall.'

The mayor gestured to one of the workmen, who wandered over to him. He had a moustache and wore a hardhat with a red beret perched on top.

'This is Phillainous Phic, our new janitor here in Bealey Town Hall. We are very glad to have Phil, as we call him, on our team. Why don't you tell the people what's being done today?' said the mayor.

'Right, er,' said Phil, 'we're settin' up a spotlight so that the people can see the professor on the stage.' The tourists looked at the workers fixing the light into place on one side of the stage and wiring it up. 'The professor wanted to be sure that people can see 'im tomorrow you see.'

'And do you like the look of the stage?' asked the mayor.

'Well I'm not that keen on green. What with the green curtains and all it's a bit too much green for me. Still, it's what the professor wanted.'

'Very true, and will you be at the grand unveiling tomorrow?'

'Oh yeah, er...' Phil paused while he thought about his answer, 'er I mean no, I won't be 'ere. I'll be in the janitor's office tomorrow. I'll be in there the whole time, I'm not coming out, not even for a moment.'

'Just so long as everything works on the day, eh?'

'Oh yeah, it'll work on the day,' said Phil, 'I've checked out every inch of this stage and the hall. I know where everyfing is and how it all works down to the last detail.'

'Well that's very reassuring,' said the mayor. Then turning to the group of tourists he added, 'Now we had best leave these people to get on with their work. I'll show you the mayoral office.'

The mayor and his group of tourists left the Great Hall and continued on their tour. Relieved Phil wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm.

'Oi Phil,' said one of the workers, 'you've just knocked your moustache off.'

Phil looked at the floor and saw that his moustache was indeed lying on the floor of the hall. Quickly he reached down, picked up his false moustache and stuck it back on his upper lip.

#  Out and About

Edith put down her newspaper and took a sip from her afternoon cup of tea.

'It says here that there are rumours that Villainous Vic was responsible for the raid on the Bealey Costume Emporium. What do you think about that, Vera?'

Vera put down her teacup and said, 'If that's true then it's a pity that he didn't stay in prison. Does it say if the police are close to re-capturing him?'

'I don't think so. Maybe they will need a bit of help this time,' answered Edith.

'Yes, I suspect that you are right. But when we help we do need to make sure that nobody finds out about our secret.' Vera and Edith exchanged knowing smiles.

'But just how are we going to help them without raising suspicion?' asked Edith.

At that very moment there was a knock at the front door.

'I'll get that,' said Vera as she lifted herself out of her armchair and hobbled towards the hall. Before opening the front door she peered through a peephole to see who was on the other side. 'Well I never, it's a policeman.'

'A policeman,' replied Edith from the living room, 'are you sure?'

'Well he's wearing a police uniform, and very smart uniform it is too, so it must be.'

'But we haven't done anything wrong. Have we?' said Edith.

'No, at least I don't recall doing anything I shouldn't have.'

'So why does he want to speak with us?'

'Well I don't know ...' began Vera, but a cheerful voice on the other side of the door cut her off.

'Good afternoon, there's no need to worry. I was just wondering whether you had any unwanted jumble that you might want to donate to the Police Jumble Sale? It's all for a good cause you know.'

'Oh, it's about the jumble sale is it,' said Edith as she got out of her chair and made her way to the hall. Vera opened the front door. In front of them stood a fresh faced young police officer holding his police badge.

'Good afternoon to you,' said Edith and Vera together. 'Would you like a cup of tea?' added Vera.

'I can't just now, I'm on duty you see,' said the policeman. 'My name's P.C. George, I've got a leaflet here telling you all about the jumble sale. Be sure to be at Bealey Town Hall on Friday to snap up some bargains.'

'Oh, thank-you,' said Vera taking a leaflet.

'May I have one as well?' said Edith.

'Certainly,' said George handing another leaflet to her.

'It must be a busy time for you at the moment, what with the professor's invention being unveiled tomorrow and that criminal being on the loose,' said Vera. 'I'm surprised that you can find time to organise a jumble sale.'

'Well, yes we are busy at the moment,' replied George. 'In fact, between us, I'm not getting the level of support I would like to organise the jumble sale. I've had to do all the leafleting myself and will have to do most of the jumble collection too. But things like this are important, as the public gets to see the friendly side of the police force.'

'But wouldn't you rather be out there solving crimes and arresting this Villainous Vic fellow whose been up to no good?' asked Edith.

'Well, of course that's proper police work, although the jumble sale is important as well.'

'Indeed, I always enjoy a good jumble sale, don't you Vera?'

'Oh yes,' said Vera.

'So do I,' said George. 'Although we do need people to donate their unwanted things, so that we've got something to sell at the jumble sale. I don't suppose you good ladies have anything that you might be able to donate? It's all in a good cause.'

'I'm not sure,' said Vera.

'Well... I might be able to find something,' said Edith.

'Anything you can find would be most welcome,' said George. 'I suppose I'd better be going now, plenty more leaflets to hand out.'

'Goodbye young man,' added Vera waving at George, 'and thank-you.'

Later that evening Villainous Vic was in the janitor's office of Bealey Town Hall. He was tired from a long day pretending to be Phillainous Phic the janitor. Being able to stay in the janitor's office was not ideal, but it was warm and, now that he had a good stock of disguises, nobody was going to recognise him. But as tired as he might be from spending a day as a janitor he still had his other job to do: being villainous.

Vic was going through the costumes he had at his disposal. A clown outfit? Too silly. A Superman outfit? The cape would be too flappy for burglary. A Tarzan outfit? It was too cold at night for that and besides it would hardly disguise him. Next he found a gorilla outfit, now this would be warm and nobody could possibly recognise him. Perfect. He put on the gorilla outfit, opened the window in his office and climbed out into the darkness of the night.

#  Bealey Bugle - Wednesday

Bealey's Premier Newspaper

Crime Wave Hits Bealey

Last night a wave of crime hit Bealey. Literally hundreds of houses have been broken into and countless items have been stolen in what seems to have been the worst night of crime in the history of Bealey.

Mrs. Stukup, a longstanding resident of Bealey, said, 'We went to sleep thinking that everything was right with the world, but we were woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of breaking glass. When my husband went to see what had caused the noise he found that somebody had broken into our house and had stolen my pearl and ruby necklace. What a terrible thing for somebody to do!'

Similar stories happened across Bealey. Mr. Mendit, a well-known carpenter in Bealey, said, 'I was just trying to get to sleep when I heard a rustling in garden. I thought it was most likely a fox or something. But when I came down to investigate I found that someone had been in my tool shed and had taken a wood saw.' When asked whether any other tools were taken Mr. Mendit confirmed that it was just the wood saw. 'This thief must really need to saw through some wood,' he added.

Also affected was Mr. Topnut, Bealey's leading hat collector, who commented, 'I thought it was only me that was interested in hats. But it looks like this thief is also attracted to headwear as he's stolen one of my finest prize hats.'

It's not just the public who have been affected, the police have also been victims of burglary. Sarge at the police station had this to say, 'I can confirm that an item of police property has been stolen.' When asked how he felt about this theft Sarge replied, 'Well, I've had my differences with the pencil sharpener, so I can't say that I'm too disappointed to see it go.'

One of the more perplexing aspects of these thefts is the presence of gorilla footprints at every crime scene, causing some people to suggest that it was linked to Monday's raid at the Bealey Costume Emporium. Sarge, however, had this to say, 'There is no evidence linking these events to the costume theft on Monday. In my opinion a more likely explanation is that somebody has trained a gorilla to burgle.'

This reporter cannot wait to see the culprit, whether human or gorilla, caught and put behind bars. Last night's thefts have caused untold misery for the people of Bealey and what's more, somebody stole my teddy!

Invention Unveiled Today

All of Bealey is on tenterhooks as Professor Rawbling is due to unveil his new invention later today at Bealey Town Hall. The professor's invention has been a closely guarded secret, not even the police guarding the invention know what it is.

'All I can tell you,' said Sarge, 'is that behind these curtains there's a large wooden crate marked "Top Secret". Nobody is going to see inside that crate until the professor opens it up.'

When asked whether Villainous Vic's escape or last night's crime wave presented a risk Sarge said this, 'I've got my top officers protecting the invention. No one's going to get past them. Obviously I'm not doing the guarding myself as I've had a few injuries lately. I've had my finger and thumb bandaged up for a little while and now I've got my foot in plaster, but the other guys are all fighting fit and will stop anyone trying to get near the invention.'

It goes without saying that the Bealey Bugle will be at the grand unveiling today to see just what Professor Rawbling has invented.

Gavel Delayed

Judge Fotheringay at Bealey Crown Court was quoted as saying, 'It's just not fair, my gavel has not yet arrived. I ordered it on the interweb thing and I clicked for next day delivery and had to pay extra for that. But it has still not arrived. It's a disgrace, how am I, a pillar of society, supposed to do my judging when I haven't got my gavel?'

#  Grand Unveiling

The Great Hall in Bealey Town Hall was heaving, it seemed that the entire town had turned up.

'Not a bad crowd,' said Professor Rawbling. 'You see, the people know the true value of my genius and I will not let them down today.'

P.C. George, Sarge and Professor Rawbling were stood by the edge of the stage. George looked at the crowd. There were a lot of people in the Great Hall, but were they all here to see the professor's invention? A number of people scattered around the packed room were holding placards each bearing a message. George read a few of them.

"Catch the Thief - NOW"

"RETURN OUR STUFF"

"Stamp Out Crime"

"Could I have my hat back, please?"

"Snd Thf 2 Prsn"

'I'm not sure they're all here to see your invention,' said George.

'What rubbish,' retorted Professor Rawbling, 'of course they are here to see me. My invention will mark Bealey out as a centre of technical innovation. This is a historic moment and it's natural that people want to be here to witness it.'

'This room is getting too crowded,' said Sarge who, in addition to having his finger and thumb bandaged, now had his foot in plaster and needed crutches to walk. 'If you don't start soon then someone could get hurt.'

'Yes, I suppose we had better start now,' replied the professor. 'I'll just check that everything is in order behind the curtains. You'd better get ready to turn the spotlight on, so that people can see me.'

Professor Rawbling climbed onto the stage and disappeared behind the curtains.

'Where's that janitor?' said Sarge, 'He's supposed to switch the spotlight on.'

'I don't know,' replied George, 'I've not seen him for half an hour.'

'Well we can't delay any longer, so you'd better get ready to switch the spotlight on yourself.'

A moment later the professor poked his head through the curtains. 'Everything's ready back here,' he said, 'so let's get this show started.' The professor drew his head back behind the curtains.

George flipped a switch on the spotlight and a large circle of light illuminated the middle of the curtains. The crowd went quiet in expectation. The professor stepped through the curtains and onto the stage.

'Thank-you for coming to this, the historic unveiling of my latest invention,' declared the professor to the crowd.

'What are you going to do about this thief?' said a voice from the crowd. 'He's nicked my stuff.'

'Yeah, never mind about your invention, what about our possessions?' said another.

'I was very sorry to hear about last night's crime wave. But I'm only an inventor, I can't solve crime.'

'If your invention hadn't needed a police guard then maybe the thief would have been caught,' said a third voice and the crowd applauded.

'I think I can hear something coming from behind the curtains,' said George, 'a sort of scratching, grating sound.'

'Must be the invention, I imagine that it's very technical,' said Sarge who could not hear anything over the noise of the crowd.

Meanwhile Professor Rawbling implored the crowd to calm down. 'I know that the thefts must have upset you, but there really is nothing I can do about it. Catching thieves is a job for the police, not inventors.'

When the crowd finally quietened down the professor continued, 'When I started working on this invention I asked myself, "At the end of a busy day, what is it that people really want?" And what do you think I concluded?'

'Ooh, a cup of tea, I always have a cup of tea when I get home,' said somebody in the crowd.

'I'm sorry madam, but the cup of tea has already been invented. I cannot re-invent it. Any other ideas?'

'A thief catcher?'

'No, as I've explained catching thieves is a job for the police.'

'Well I'm usually quite tired when I get home, so I like to have a bit of a rest,' said another voice from the crowd.

'Ah, good,' said the professor, 'and how do you get your rest?'

'Well, I, er, maybe have a sit down for a bit.'

'Excellent,' said the professor, 'you have a sit down. Then what?'

'Well, maybe tell someone what I have just been doing while I was out,' said the voice from the crowd.

'So, you get home, you've been busy but now you're tired and so you do what?'

'Have a sit down and a nice chat.'

'Thank-you, that is exactly what I concluded. However, the average home has no device that will provide for both of these. Therefore, I channelled my creative energies to devise an elegant solution to this omission. Today I would like to introduce my creation to Bealey and to the world. Draw back the curtains!'

'Where's the janitor?' said George, 'He's supposed to be here to do these things.'

'How should I know?' replied Sarge, 'You had better do it yourself.'

George pulled the drawstrings and the green curtains parted to reveal the wooden crate marked "Top Secret". The professor produced a large key from his pocket and stepped up to the crate. He placed the key in the lock and declared:

'Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the solution to tired feet and a bored mind. The ChatChair1000, the world's first talking chair!'

A hubbub grew from the crowd, 'Oh a talking chair, whatever will they think of next... I just don't get it, when I sit on something the last thing I want is for it to talk back... You know I think a talking chair would be rather useful... So, the chair can talk, whoopee. But can it solve crimes? That's what we need now... I wonder whether it comes in blue, that's my favourite colour you know. I do hope it comes in blue.'

Professor Rawbling looked at the audience and a moment later the crowd were quiet. He turned the key, the lock clicked open and the front of the crate swung outwards. But there was no chair inside, the crate was quite empty. Instead all that the crate contained was a large hole at its base.

Like so many things in Bealey, the ChatChair1000, the world's first talking chair, had been stolen.

#  Theft

Moments earlier Villainous Vic had been lying flat on his stomach in the gap between the stage and the floor of the Great Hall. He was inching himself forward, being careful not to make a sound, while dragging behind him what appeared to be a perfectly normal wooden chair.

'Well I must say that this is not exactly what I was expecting,' said the chair.

'Shhh!' said Vic, 'I don't want no more chatter.'

'What do you mean you "don't want no more chatter"? Do you mean that you want more chatter?' replied the chair.

'Naaah, just keep your trap shut.'

'I assure you that I do not have a "trap", whatever you might mean by that.'

'Listen,' hissed Vic, 'I have just made the most daring and brilliant raid in all 'istory. We are currently under a stage surrounded by pretty much everyone from the town and a bunch of coppas. Now if you don't shut it then all my hard work will 'ave come to nuffin'.'

'By "shut it" I take it that you mean "keep quiet"?' said the chair.

'Yeah.'

'Well, if only you'd said then I could have "shut it", as you put it, earlier. Very well I shall "shut it", whatever "it" might be.'

'Good.'

With the chair finally quiet Vic continued dragging it towards the back of the stage. Up above them the noise of the professor's unveiling came to sudden halt.

'That'll be 'em opening the curtains,' whispered Vic, 'it won't be long now.'

The chair remained silent. Vic dragged the chair further towards the back of the stage.

'I imagine they'll be opening the crate soon,' added Vic in hushed tones.

Above them the only sounds were the click of a key turning and a creaking as the crate door was opened. There was a gasp from the crowd.

'But... but... it's not there,' cried a voice from the crowd. 'It's gone!'

'What!' cried the professor, 'But that's impossible.' The tense silence in the Great Hall gave way to a rush of noise as the crowd screamed and shouted.

Vic listened hard and could just hear Sarge shouting, 'All right, that's enough. Calm down everybody.'

'Right, now's the time,' said Vic, 'there's not a moment to lose.'

Vic had crawled to the back of the stage and had reached a trap door in the floor of the hall. He heaved the trap door up, until the door touched the stage floor above him. Holding the door with one hand he reached for the chair and pushed it through the trap door. Releasing the chair Vic then climbed through the trap door, lowering it as he went.

Vic found himself in a dimly lit corridor standing on the chair. He climbed down from the chair and looked at his latest item of loot. It looked like an ordinary wooden chair with four wooden legs, a wooden seat and a wooden back. The wood was not painted, but varnished showing the grain of the wood. There was a large, dark, flat knot in the grain right in the middle of the seat's back. From this dark mark a voice emerged.

'Is it alright to speak now?' said the chair, the dark mark in the chair's back seemed to move as it spoke.

'Yeah, I suppose so. I mean if you 'ave to,' said Vic.

'My dear man, I am the ChatChair1000, the world's first talking chair and a marvel of Professor Rawbling's inventive genius. If a talking chair does not talk, then it becomes a mere chair and is no longer a wonder to be admired by one and all. Put simply, if I do not talk then I am no longer the ChatChair1000.'

'We're not out of this yet. If you 'ave to talk then could you at least keep it quiet.'

'If you insist then I will moderate my voice,' said the chair a little quieter than before. 'If I could be so bold then there is one thing that I would like to ask you.'

'Wot?'

'This is not quite how I imagined the unveiling would proceed.'

'What d'you mean?' said Vic picking the chair up and carrying it along the corridor.

'I was due to be exhibited to the good people of Bealey as Professor Rawbling's latest and greatest invention. The audience would gasp when they saw me and heard my voice. The press would be there. I dare say I'd even become famous and would have to learn to deal with the fans, but that is the price you pay when you are a finely crafted work of genius such as myself.'

'Yeah, what of it?'

'Well I cannot see the good people of Bealey, there are no press, no fans and you are not Professor Rawbling.'

'All true,' said Vic.

'So, who are you and what has happened?' asked the chair.

'My name's Vic, although some people call me Villainous Vic. There's no crowds or nuffin' because there's been a change of plan.'

'A change of plan?'

'Yeah, rather than show you off to the press and what-'ave-you it's been decided to take you away in secret.'

'And just why would the professor do a thing like that?'

'To, er, to... to, er... to heighten press interest in his new invention.'

'I'm not sure that I follow you,' said the chair.

'You know, the newspapers love a story. I can see the 'eadlines now, "Professor's Amazing Invention Disappears". It's all about building your profile.'

'So, my disappearance would be widely reported in the newspapers or perhaps on the television?'

'Bound to be, yeah.'

The chair thought about this. 'Well, I suppose that makes up for it a bit. But where are you taking me?'

'To my hideout.'

'Your hideout?' queried the chair.

'You know, where I live, where I keep my fings.'

'You mean your home.'

'Hideout, home, whatever,' said Vic.

Vic stopped at a door and opened it. There was a flight of stairs on the other side. Vic started to climb the stairs still carrying the ChatChair1000. At the top of the stairs there was another door.

'We're going out into the corridors of the town hall. There may be other people out there. Remember that your disappearance needs to be a secret so I need you to keep quiet for a bit. Okay?'

'Very well, so long as it is only for a while,' replied the chair with a sigh.

Vic opened the door an inch and peered out. He looked into a brightly lit corridor amid the offices of Bealey Town Hall. Through the inch-wide opening there didn't seem to be anyone about. He opened the door a few more inches and turned to look the other way along the corridor.

'Ah! Phil there you are,' said the mayor who was standing just behind the door wearing his mayoral regalia. 'Have you heard what's happened?'

'N-n-no,' relied Vic.

'Someone has stolen the professor's invention. A most remarkable creation called the ChatChair1000, a talking chair.' The mayor looked down and saw the chair that Vic was carrying. 'What's that?'

'I-it-it's a chair, I guess,' stammered Vic.

'The chair that's missing?' said the mayor.

'No, no, no, this one isn't stolen. This is a normal, non-talking, un-stolen chair.'

'Are you sure?'

'Well can you hear it say anyfing?' said Vic.

The mayor listened, indeed the chair was not saying a word.

'Well it's definitely not talking, so I guess you must be right. But what are you doing with this chair then?'

'I'm taking it to the janitor's office for repairs.'

'Why, what's wrong with it? It doesn't look like there's anything wrong with it,' said the mayor.

'One of it's leg is creaking,' said Vic, 'here I'll show you. If I push this leg then the chair creaks.' Vic pressed his hand against one of the chair's legs, but there was no sound. 'I said, "If I push this leg then the chair creaks".' He pressed the leg a little harder.

'Creak, creak,' said the chair.

'So it does. Well I suppose that you know what's best,' said the mayor. 'If you see anything then you'll let me know.' The mayor headed off down the corridor, his mayoral robes swaying around his legs.

'That was close,' said the chair.

'Shhhh!' hissed Vic but he need not have worried as the mayor was racing away as fast as he could while deep in thought trying to work out where the professor's talking chair might be.

Vic picked up the chair and carried it a few yards down the corridor to another door marked "Janitor's Office". Beneath this Vic had written in marker pen "Keep Out!" Vic opened the door and pushed the chair in.

'So, this is your hideout is it?' said the chair.

'Yeah,' replied Vic.

'But you said that this is where you keep your belongings. Where are they all?'

Vic opened a cupboard on the other side of the office. It was crammed from floor to ceiling with all manner of things. There was a model aeroplane, jewellery, a kite, pots and pans, a large yellow teddy bear, a hat crested with brightly coloured feathers, an ostrich egg, a box of toffee and hundreds and hundreds of other items. Then Vic opened a drawer next to cupboard, this was also full.

'I calls this stuff my loot,' said Vic.

'And this is where I am to stay is it?' asked the chair.

'This is where you'll stay, where I'll stay and where all my lovely loot will stay.'

#  Police Investigations

'Testing, testing. Yeah, I think it's working. Ok, this is police interview one in the case of the theft of the ChatChair1000 from Professor Rawbling,' said Sarge into a microphone.

'And if I may say so, it is an absolute disgrace,' said the professor. 'The police were charged with the protection of an immensely valuable invention and what happens? It gets stolen that's what.'

'Yes, thank-you professor. Before we start I just need you to confirm who you are. It's for the record.'

'What do you mean who am I? I am Professor Rawbling, the greatest mind that Bealey has ever known.'

'And could you describe this ChatChair1000 that has been stolen?'

'Describe the ChatChair1000! My dear man this is a unique invention, a talking chair. There is no other talking chair in the world. If the chair talks then it is mine, there is no need to provide any other description.'

'True, but it would help my officers if we could have a description. I mean, do you have any photos of it?'

'I am surrounded by spies who will stop at nothing to sneak off with details of my inventions and their inner workings. I dare not keep photographs of my inventions, especially one as dear as this, for fear that they would fall into the wrong hands.'

'So how will we know when we've got your chair? I mean are there any distinguishing features?' asked Sarge.

'Like I said, a talking chair talks. All the others will be silent.'

'You're quite sure that nobody else has a talking chair. I mean that might cause some confusion.'

'Do you know how difficult it is to get wood to move?' asked the professor.

'Can't say that I do, no,' replied Sarge.

'Well it's very difficult. Not only did I have to get the wood to move but also to shape words without a mouth and to speak them without the aid of vocal chords. This took all of my inventive powers. I very much doubt that anyone else has created anything like this. If the chair talks then I assure you that it is mine.'

'And what sort of talking does this chair do?' asked Sarge.

'What do you mean by that?'

'Well, does it perhaps speak with an accent?'

'Most certainly not,' said the professor, 'I taught the chair to speak properly as any self-respecting inventor would.'

'Okay. Now I also need your account of what happened leading up to the theft of the chair.'

'Yes, I suppose that you will, although there is not much to say. The chair had been loaded up in a crate, but when I opened the crate I found that the chair was missing and that there was a hole at the bottom of the crate. Have you investigated this hole yet?'

'Well, I've been quite busy what with your chair being stolen and a crime wave in the town.'

'So perhaps you had better investigate the hole now. For all you know the criminal might have left a vital clue.'

'Ok, ok,' said Sarge as he hauled himself to his feet and hobbled on his crutches over to the stage. With a bit of heaving he managed to get himself up onto the stage and soon both him and the professor were staring down the hole. There was a glimmer of light reflecting off something in the darkness beneath the stage.

'You know I think that I can see something down there,' said Sarge.

'Well you had better bend down and get it out,' replied the professor.

Sarge set his crutches to one side and got down on his knees. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and, with the handkerchief covering his palm and fingers, reached through the hole. He couldn't quite touch the object, so he lay flat on his belly and stretched further down. Sarge swiped his hand in the dark, but missed the object by inches. He shuffled forward on his belly and reached again. His fingernails tapped something metallic.

'I've nearly got it,' said Sarge.

'Good, it might be a clue,' replied the professor.

Sarge reached deeper into the gloom under the stage, his body balanced against the edge of the hole. He grasped in the dark and this time his fingers (still protected by the handkerchief) closed around a cold, thin object. He pulled on the object but it caught on the struts supporting the stage. He pulled again, harder this time, but found himself moving forward down the hole.

'Woooaaaah!' shouted Sarge as he fell forward, 'somebody help me. I think I'm stuck.'

Professor Rawbling grabbed one of Sarge's legs and heaved.

'Don't worry sergeant,' said the professor as he heaved again, 'I'll have you out of there in no time.'

'Be careful,' cried Sarge, 'I'm already an injured man, do take care.'

'One more tug and I'll have you out,' said the professor and heaved a third time.

With a loud pop Sarge came unstuck from the hole, but the professor kept on heaving determined to pull Sarge all the way out. A moment later there was a loud crashing noise.

'Arrrgh!' cried Sarge, 'my head, my head, you've bashed my head against the hole. Oh my goodness, is that blood? Stop the tape! Stop the tape! Get me a medic!'

'Police interview two in the case of the theft of the ChatChair1000 from Professor Rawbling. Interviewer is Sarge, a bit bruised and bandaged but otherwise okay, and I'm speaking to the Mayor of Bealey.'

'I'm very worried about the theft of the professor's chair,' said the mayor.

'Well, it might help us catch the criminal if you could tell me what you saw,' asked Sarge.

'You see I was ever so excited about the unveiling. The professor and his wonderful inventions are such a credit to the town. I was a bit worried about the protests but I thought that when they see how marvellous his invention is they would soon forget their woes. But when the crate was opened we all saw that the invention had been stolen. But who would commit such a crime?'

'Well we should have an answer soon. You see, we've found a clue.'

'Excellent,' said the mayor.

'Under the stage I found the saw that must have been used to cut the hole. George thinks that he can see some fingerprints on it.'

'So you know who committed this crime?'

'Well we've got the fingerprints.'

'And you'll be arresting him then?' asked the mayor.

'No, not as such.'

'Why ever not?'

'There's a slight problem there.'

'What sort of a problem?' asked the mayor.

'Well, we don't know whose prints they are yet.'

'Don't know whose prints they are?'

'You see matching fingerprints to a suspect is a very technical matter.'

'So why are you wasting time talking to people like me when you should be out there looking for the person whose prints match the ones on the saw.'

'Modern police work isn't just wandering around looking for criminals, it's more complex...'

'I don't care about that,' shouted the mayor, 'Stop the tape, get out there and start searching.'

'But...' began Sarge.

'Stop the tape!' shouted the mayor again.

'Police interview three in the case of the theft of the ChatChair1000 from Professor Rawbling,' said Sarge. 'And I'm speaking to a Mr. Phillainous Phic. Now Mr. Phic I understand that you have recently become the janitor for Bealey Town Hall.'

'Yeah, I'm the janitor. But don't call me Mr. Phic, most people just call me Phil.'

'You know what the funny thing is?' said Sarge, 'We're supposed to be looking for this bloke with a name just like yours.'

'Oh really, who's that?' asked Phil.

'His name is Villainous Vic. He escaped from prison and some people think that he's been committing crimes all around town.'

'No, that wasn't me, I didn't do none of them crimes,' protested Phil. 'There's no proof that it was me.'

'Calm down sir, nobody's accusing you.'

'So you don't fink it was me?'

'No,' said Sarge, 'you look nothing like Vic. I mean does Vic have a moustache like yours?'

'I guess not,' said Phil.

'And does he wear that nice beret that you've got on?'

'I guess not either,' said Phil.

'So we know for sure that you are not Villainous Vic, the most notorious criminal that Bealey has ever known,' said Sarge. 'By the way, what were you doing when the professor's chair was stolen?'

'Oh, me, I was, er, just fixin' some fings and, er, keeping myself busy.'

'Did you get to see the unveiling at all?'

'No,' replied Phil.

'I guess that concludes our interview,' said Sarge. 'Thank-you very much Mr. Phic.'

#  Bealey Bugle - Thursday

Bealey's Premier Newspaper

Professor's Invention Stolen

Yesterday's much anticipated unveiling of Professor Rawbling's latest invention had to be called off part way through when it was discovered that the invention, a talking chair called the "ChatChair1000", had been stolen.

'I am absolutely distraught,' said the professor. 'Everything had been going so well. I could sense the excitement in the room. People realised that they were witnessing history in the making. But when I opened the crate, at the critical moment, the chair was not there.

'I just do not know what I'm going to do. I'm hoping that the ChatChair1000 is found and that I can get it back. I must implore the public, if you see a chair talking or behaving strangely in any way whatsoever then you must contact the police.' When asked what he thought of the police's efforts so far the professor had this to say, 'I am sure that the Bealey Police are doing all they can.'

The Bugle's reporter also spoke with Sarge of the Bealey Police. We asked him whether he had a suspect for the theft. He said that the police are 'keeping an open mind at the moment and are pursuing a number of lines of enquiry.'

When asked whether the theft was linked to Villainous Vic's escape or the recent crime wave across Bealey, Sarge still insisted that he was keeping an open mind on the matter.

At this point one of his colleagues, a P.C. George, said, 'Oh, I don't know about that. We've got the saw used to cut a hole in the stage, you know the one that you found Sarge. It was covered in fingerprints, all of which match one person: Villainous Vic.'

When asked whether this new information changes anything Sarge was quoted as saying, 'Er, yeah, I guess so.'

But just what progress has there been in tracking down Villainous Vic? Sarge had this to say, 'Well, I think that progress has been fair considering.' Considering what? 'Well, considering that we've not had any sightings of him it's fair that we haven't caught him yet.'

Given the strength of policing in Bealey this reporter wonders how Villainous Vic was ever caught in the first place?

Villainous Vic \- What the public think

Vera and Edith are two incredibly normal senior residents from Bealey. We asked them what they thought of Villainous Vic and the theft of the ChatChair1000.

'Well,' said Edith, 'you know crime is something that just happens. But justice, that's something that you need to make happen.'

But do they think that the Bealey police are able to make justice happen? Vera had this to say.

'Well if they can't then I guess that we'll have to do it ourselves.'

But just what could two of Bealey's senior residents do to catch Villainous Vic?

'We'll I'm going to the jumble sale on Friday,' said Edith.

'Oh yes, you can always find something useful at a good jumble sale,' added Vera.

This reporter has found a great many things at jumble sales, but never talking chairs or infamous criminals.

Jumble Sale Troubles

Tomorrow the Bealey Police Jumble Sale will take place in the Great Hall in Bealey Town Hall. However, the Bealey Bugle can exclusively reveal that there have been problems with jumble collection this year. P.C. George is responsible for the jumble sale and had this to say:

'For some reason people just don't seem to have any unwanted things to donate to the Police Jumble Sale.' When asked why, P.C. George added, 'All I can think of is the recent crime wave. Perhaps as people have had their most treasured possessions taken they are less willing to give up their remaining belongings.'

Who could possibly have predicted that Villainous Vic's escape would have had such an impact?

Judge Still Waiting for Gavel

Judge Fotheringay of Bealey Crown Court has still not received her new gavel. She was reported as saying: 'I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm all dressed up and ready to go judging but without my gavel I just can't get started. The only good news is that the police haven't been able to catch any criminals lately so there's not been any judging to do. Heaven knows what would happen if they were to actually catch someone.'

#  In the Office

Vic looked around the interior of the janitor's office. For the time being at least this was his home, his hideout, the one place he felt safe. Outside of the office there were thousands of people looking for him. Out there all he had to protect him was his disguise, a false moustache and a beret. In the janitor's office he had four walls and a solid door to keep him safe, and it was here that he had stashed his loot. All the cupboards, drawers and boxes brimmed with swag. Every conceivable nook, cranny and crevice had been used to store some ill-gotten gain. He still had the costumes that he had taken on the morning after his escape and the hoard he had nabbed on Tuesday night. But in the centre of the room stood the pride of his collection, a chair. But this was not just any chair, this was Professor Rawbling's prized invention, the ChatChair1000, the world's first talking chair.

'Would you mind if I asked a question?' said the chair.

'Nah, go on,' replied Vic.

'Well, if it is not rude of me to ask, I was wondering how all these objects came to be here?'

'What, me loot?'

'You've used that word before. Although I'm not totally sure what "loot" means I believe that you have grasped the essence of my question.'

'Eh?' said Vic.

'Yes, your "loot", how did it come to be here?' asked the chair.

'Oh, well I nabbed it, every last fing.'

'You "nabbed" these objects?'

'Yeah, I nabbed 'em. I lifted 'em.'

'While I am sure that these objects were carried here, and most likely this was done by yourself, I doubt that is what you are referring to.'

'Eh?' said Vic scratching his head.

'What do you mean by "lifted"?' clarified the chair.

'Oh, it means nicked.'

'You mean to say that you stole every object in this room?'

'Well, as a matter of fact, yes I did.'

'You are not ashamed by this?'

'Oh no, quite the reverse in fact. You see, they call me Villainous Vic and say that I'm the most villainous villain in all villainy. Pinching fings is what I does best.'

'So you are a criminal, that really is very interesting. You see the only other person that I've ever had a conversation with is Professor Rawbling, and, if you don't mind me saying, you are a very different person to the professor. I would be interested to know how one came to be in your current profession?'

'What d'you mean by that?' replied Vic.

'How did you become a criminal?'

'You know I'm not sure. I guess when I was young I just wanted fings but I didn't have no cash to buy 'em. Seeing other people with stuff that I couldn't 'ave made me sad, so one day I just decided to take 'em. I got into a few scrapes, but I always got out of 'em. I was quick on my legs you see, I could always scarper. You know, there were a few of us like that, a gang I guess. But now there's only me.'

'Why's that?' asked the chair.

'Some of 'em gave up. With all the ducking and diving needed to avoid the cops it was just easier to get a proper job. That way they didn't get in no more trouble. Others got caught and went to jail. My old mate Toothsome Terry is in jail right now.'

'Your "mate"?'

'Yeah, me pal, my friend.'

'Oh I see, your "mate". How do you know that he's still in jail?'

'Well I was in prison with 'im until a few days ago.'

'You mean you were caught by the police?'

'Yeah, I 'ad an unfortunate incident with a troll. A big, green, nasty troll he was. The police said they were going to take me away to a safe place where there weren't any trolls. Turned out it were jail.'

'But you got out?'

'Yeah, 'course I did,' said Vic as he sat down on his office chair. 'Once I realised that there is no such fing as trolls I didn't fear the outside. So I escaped and so far I 'aven't seen any trolls out 'ere.'

'Not even one?'

'Not even one, you see they just don't exist. How can I see anyfing that don't exist? I can't. Although finking about it, I didn't fink that talking chairs existed until I met you. How did you get to be a talking chair?'

'Oh, I've always been a talking chair, ever since Professor Rawbling invented me. Indeed for a while I thought that all chairs were talking chairs. At first I thought that the other chairs, like the one you are sitting on, were just being rude and ignoring me. But it turns out that none of them can talk.'

'I guess so. I mean, I've seen loads of chairs and none of them 'ave ever said anyfing.'

'You see there's two aspects to being a talking chair. Firstly, there's the talking bit, which is fine by me. Secondly, there's being sat on and, to be honest, I've never been too keen on the being sat on part. But then again mate, I suppose that being sat on is all that the other chairs have ever known.'

'Poor blighters,' said Vic.

'Yeah, you'd think that they'd want something more from life than just being sat on.'

'But give 'em credit, you never hears 'em complain.'

'Still no point getting all sad about it, we've got our own troubles. I mean what are you going to do with all the loot in this little room?'

'This is my hideout,' said Vic. 'I'm gonna sit here and wait.'

'What for?'

'I dunno.'

At that moment there was a squawk from a black box on the wall of the janitor's office.

'What was that noise?' said the chair.

'Don't worry yourself,' replied Vic, 'it's just the intercom. They use it to speak to people around the town hall. Someone must need something doing.'

Vic got up and walked over to the intercom.

'Yeah, Phil here,' said Vic, 'what do you want?'

'It's Sarge here. The police have finished their investigations. You can come and clean up now.'

'Fanks,' replied Vic, 'I'll be over in a tick.'

Vic walked back to the chair. 'I guess that I've got to go back to pretending to be a janitor for a bit. You'll be ok 'ere will ya?'

'Of course I'll be ok here mate,' replied the chair, 'but you take care out there, you don't want to get in no trouble, do ya?'

'Trust me, I'll take care,' said Vic as he turned to leave.

#  On the Beat

There was a knock at the door.

'Oh, I wonder who that could be?' said Edith as she put down her cup of tea and started making her way to the front door.

'I don't know,' added Vera who was also getting up from her chair. 'We weren't expecting anyone, were we?'

'I don't think so.'

Edith and Vera made their way to the front door. Edith peered through the peephole.

'There's nothing to worry about,' said a voice from the other side of the door. 'I've just got a few questions for you. I don't suppose that you could open your door?'

'It's George,' said Edith, 'you remember from the other day. He's come to collect our jumble.'

'But we haven't got any jumble for him,' said Vera, 'It completely slipped my mind.'

'So what are we going to do?'

'Well we cannot leave him on the doorstep. You'll have to let him in.'

Edith unlocked the latch and opened the front door.

'Good morning officer,' said Edith peering up at George. 'And what can we do for you today?'

'Good morning ladies,' said George holding up a photograph of Villainous Vic. 'I don't suppose that either of you good ladies have seen this man lately?'

'No officer, I don't think I have,' said Edith.

'I haven't either,' added Vera. 'Who is he?'

'This is Villainous Vic, the escaped prisoner and the prime suspect in the theft of Professor Rawbling's prized invention the ChatChair1000 as well as the crime wave that hit Bealey on Tuesday night.'

'And you're out looking for him? Looking for clues?' asked Vera.

'I am making enquiries while out on my beat.'

'Oh, we thought you were collecting for the jumble sale,' said Edith.

'I've got to do that as well,' said George. 'But people have lost so much stuff that they don't seem to want to part with anything else and the collection has been very poor this year. Usually Mr. Topnut gives us a hat from his collection that he no longer needs and Professor Rawbling gives us one of his old inventions. Last year he donated his self-eating tomato and celery, especially invented for people who don't like salad. Unfortunately, they both self-ate themselves before we were able to sell them. But at least the thought was there. However, this year neither of them have been able to give anything. I don't know if we're going to have enough jumble this year.'

'Oh dear,' said Edith, 'you do seem to have quite a problem and you say this is all the fault of this Villainous Vic.'

'You know it was me who caught him originally,' said George.

'Really?' said Vera, 'How did that happen?'

'It was a strange story you know. I found him at the top of a lamppost, scared witless because a big, green troll was after him. You know for a little while I was famous for this, I even got my picture in the Bealey Bugle. Do you remember?'

'You know I think I do remember,' said Edith.

'But it is not trolls this time,' added George, 'it's gorillas. At every crime scene we seem to get gorilla footprints. Sometimes people say they've seen a large hairy creature climbing over the roofs, often carrying a large bag, no doubt stuffed full with other people's belongings.'

'Are you saying there is a gorilla loose and running around the town committing crimes?' asked Edith.

'That's what Sarge thinks. More likely it's Villainous Vic disguised as a gorilla so that nobody can recognise him. Why we even found a few gorilla footprints on a back street behind the town hall.'

'And what happened to these gorilla footprints at the town hall?' asked Vera.

'I found the new janitor, Phillainous Phic, cleaning them up. I tried to tell him that they were police evidence, but he said that we couldn't have mucky footprints near the town hall and he had to clean them up. Our new janitor is very hard working. You know before the unveiling of Professor Rawbling's invention he had checked out every inch of the town hall. He knew the precise location of every trap door, passageway and exit in the building. His attention to detail was amazing.'

'Really?' said Edith, 'I don't think I've heard of this Phillainous Phic. When did he start work at the town hall?'

'Not long ago, the day after Villainous Vic escaped from prison. I don't know where we could have found such a janitor?'

'So let me get this right,' said Vera. 'At the beginning of the week this Villainous Vic escapes from prison, the next day Phillainous Phic turns up and becomes the janitor. After that there is a crime wave committed by what appears to be a gorilla and gorilla footprints are seen near the town hall. But the janitor is eager to clean up any gorilla footprints he sees. Then the janitor learns about every nook and cranny in the town hall and last of all the professor's invention is stolen from within the town hall, even though it had a police guard.'

'Yes, that's exactly what happened,' said George.

A faint sparkle glistened in Vera's eyes.

'And you also said that Villainous Vic was scared of big, green trolls,' added Edith.

'That's what he said when I caught him,' said George. 'He was scared that a big, green troll was going to do bad things to him.'

Another sparkle glistened, this time in Edith's eyes.

'Officer, we've got some good news for you,' said Vera.

'Oh good, have you seen Villainous Vic then?'

'No officer, not yet,' replied Edith.

'But we can give you some things for the jumble sale,' said Vera.

'Well that's something,' said George.

'Yes, I've got an old blanket that I would like to donate,' said Vera.

'A blanket, that's a good start. Always useful in winter,' said George.

'Yes, a lovely green blanket,' added Vera.

'I've got an old scarf that you could have, that's green as well,' added Edith.

'Well that sounds most generous.'

'Then there is a very nice green teapot,' said Edith.

'I've got lovely woollen hat that I don't need anymore,' said Vera. 'That's also green.'

'You do seem to have a lot of green things to give away,' said George.

'Then there's that beach ball from our holiday last year,' suggested Edith.

'And what colour might that be?' asked George.

'Why, it's green of course,' said Vera and Edith together.

'And I've got some green trousers.'

'And a green apron.'

'Oh, and a green dressing gown.'

'And a ...'

'Excuse me ladies,' said George, 'this all sounds very generous of you and I'm really pleased that you are donating all these fine objects. But does everything have to be green?'

Vera and Edith glanced at each other. The sparkle in their eyes grew a little brighter. Slowly they turned their eyes to point straight at P.C. George and said:

'Green is the colour of plants and leaves,

and it's just the tonic your jumble sale needs.'

George paused for a moment and then said, 'You know, I think that green is a fabulous colour. I'm so pleased that everything you're donating is green.'

'Well that's very kind of you,' said Edith, whose eyes had now returned to normal.

'I've got my van waiting just down the road,' said George. 'I'd be happy to take this jumble now if that's ok.'

'If you don't mind then we'd prefer to take it down to the town hall ourselves,' said Vera. 'When are you setting up the Great Hall for the jumble sale?'

'Well, I'll be getting things ready this evening, but I can't possibly expect two, er, mature ladies such as yourselves to carry all these things down to the town hall. I insist that you let me take them down there myself.'

Once more the light in Edith and Vera's eyes glowed, it grew more brilliant until it sparkled. Then together they said:

'Officer we insist

that you need not assist.

Our arms are strong

and it won't take long

to carry our jumble all

to Bealey Town Hall.

We'll work through the night

to get the jumble sorted right.'

Once more George paused for a moment, not quite sure what he had heard. Eventually he said, 'I suppose that if you feel up to it then there is no reason why you cannot carry your jumble down to the town hall yourselves. I'll see you later this evening when I'm setting up the jumble sale. Well I must be off now, I've got plenty more houses to visit.'

George turned to leave, Edith and Vera smiled and waved him goodbye. Once he had left Edith shut the front door and they returned to their cups of tea.

'Well wasn't he nice,' said Vera.

'Yes, he was nice wasn't he. But I think I'm going to need a second cup of tea. I've got a feeling that tonight is going to be busy,' replied Edith.

'If what I've got planned works then it's going to be very busy indeed,' said Vera.

Vic shut the door to the janitor's office and sighed.

'Hello,' said the chair.

'Eh,' said Vic looking around to see who had spoken, 'oh, it's you is it?'

'Yes it's me, just saying hello, or "wotcha" as you would say.'

'Yeah, wotcha. Listen, do us a favour, next time someone comes in here keep quiet will ya?'

'Why do you want me to do that?' asked the chair.

'Well they've got a jumble sale tomorrow. There's going to be loads of people wandering around the town hall.'

'And this worries you?'

'Yeah. I mean all those people. It would be better if we had a couple of quiet days right now.' Vic sat down on the office chair and removed his beret. 'It would just take one of them to see through my disguise or hear you talking and I'd be bang to rights in no time.'

'You mean the secret would be exposed?'

'Eh?'

'You know the taking me away secret, to get the newspapers interested.'

'Oh yeah,' said Vic, 'that's what I meant.'

'So what are you going to do?'

'I guess I'll 'ave to hide out 'ere and hope that nuffin' breaks down and needs me to go out there and fix it.'

'Oh goodie,' replied the chair.

'What you mean by that?' snapped Vic.

'Well I've been getting quite lonely on my own so it'll be good to have some company. Besides, mate, I've got some questions for you.'

'What sort of questions?'

'Well, why have you put me in this little room?'

'It's like I said, I've put all my loot in 'ere,' said Vic.

'You mean that I'm part of your loot?'

'Yeah, 'course you is.'

'So I've been... stolen!'

'What of it? Everyfing belongs to someone or other and it so 'appens that the stuff in 'ere belongs to me,' said Vic.

'I'm not too sure how I feel about that. I mean being stolen, it makes me feel that I'm just an object.' Vic had never seen a sad looking chair before, but the edges of the dark knot in the chair's back seemed to droop at either side.

'Look mate, don't feel too bad. Tell you what, I'll make it up to you.'

'How?'

'I'll talk to you some more, keep you company. Wouldn't that be pukka?'

'What does "pukka" mean?' asked the chair.

'It means that somefing is good, it's pukka.'

'You do use some strange words,' said the chair. 'When the professor was teaching me to speak he never told me about some of the words you use.'

'Well, that's just 'ow I talk. You see mate, everyone talks different. They all use different words or they use the same words but uses 'em differently.'

'I don't, I talk exactly as the professor taught me. He taught me to talk properly and therefore I talk properly, mate.'

'Did he teach you to say "mate"?' asked Vic.

'Well, no I guess not.'

'But you just said it then, and you've been using some other words that the professor didn't teach ya.'

The chair had to think about this for a moment. 'Well, maybe that is true,' it said after a while.

'Maybe, rather than talking the way the professor taught you to, perhaps you should talk the way that's right for you. The way that you feel comfortable talking.'

'And how will I know what way is right for me?' asked the chair.

'Just do what's natural,' suggested Vic. 'I'm sure that if the pair of us spent the day chatting then you'd soon find your own way of speaking, a way that's right for you.'

And that is exactly what they did, they spent the rest of the day talking to each other in the safety of the janitor's office.

Vic told the chair of one time when he had, 'just done a raid and this coppa stops me an' asks me what's all this stuff I'm carryin'. I told 'im that I was collectin' for charity, and you know what?'

'What?' asked the chair.

'He gave me fifty pence and sent me on my way.'

The chair told Vic how the professor taught him to speak. 'The professor made me practice saying different sounds. I would go "la-la-la... me-me-me... ray-ray-ray". Sometimes we would practice all day long.'

'What, all day going "laaah-laaah-laaaaah"?' said Vic.

'Something like that, yes.'

Vic told the chair of his raid on the Bealey library. 'It didn't work out though, after a few weeks I 'ad to return the books. I guess I should 'ave fought of that first.'

The chair told Vic of his time in the crate, waiting for the unveiling. 'It weren't half dark in there. I thought it was never going to end, that I'd be stuck in there 'til the end of me days.'

Vic told the chair about the television he stole. 'I got the fing 'ome and turned it on and there was a picture of me on the telly. Apparently I was wanted for all me burglaries.'

The chair told Vic of the speech he should have given at the grand unveiling when the crate was finally opened. 'I was to say "'Ello World. I is the ChatChair1000, the world's first talkin' chair."'

'What, exactly like that?' asked Vic.

'Not exactly, naah. The professor wanted it said proper. I mean, he made me practice it 'undreds of times.'

''Undreds?' asked Vic.

''Undreds.'

By the end of the day although the chair did not look any different, it did feel a lot happier than it had on the days it spent alone. But by the end of the day the chair had changed in another way as well. Can you guess in what way?

#  Jumble Sale

P.C. George sat down on the edge of the stage in the Great Hall and let his head sink into his hands. The jumble sale was not going to be a success. George had set out several trestle tables around the hall in the vain hope that someone would donate the unwanted but still useable belongings that he needed. What would he give for somebody's worn, but not worn-out, clothes, a train set that was no longer used, last year's kitchen gadget or some old comic books. All would be found a new home at the jumble sale. Instead people had been so shocked by the spate of thefts that they had clung on to everything they owned. As a result the Great Hall, still reeling from the theft of Professor Rawbling's ChatChair1000, was full of tables but only one had a pile of jumble on it, and it was a fairly small pile at that. Usually it would take a crowd of policemen to sort out the jumble, this evening it only needed George.

'All the rest of the police are out searching for Villainous Vic, doing proper police work,' thought George. 'Maybe it's as well that there isn't too much jumble to sort out. I'd never get it done on my own.'

With a heave George pushed himself off the stage. The spotlight, now switched off, was still out on the floor of the Great Hall where it had been for the professor's show. George traipsed his way over to the spotlight.

'There's not much point moving you,' said George to the spotlight, 'I mean, it's not as if we are actually going to get hordes of people here tomorrow, clamouring to get their hands on this little pile of jumble. But I suppose that I'd better get this job done. Who knows, if I do it quickly then I might be able to join the hunt for Villainous Vic later.'

George coiled up the power cable and picked the spotlight up off the floor and carried it to the stage. He put the spotlight down on the stage with loud thump and paused to get his breath. Out of the quiet of the Great Hall George could hear the distant sound of footsteps. As the footsteps drew nearer there was another noise, the sound of something being dragged along the floor. Eventually George could also hear voices.

'Did you have to bring so much stuff, Vera. This weighs a ton.'

'It's all for a good cause Edith, and anyway we are nearly there.'

Edith and Vera groaned and strained their way into the Great Hall, dragging behind them a huge green sack, nearly as large as they were. George ran over to them.

'There's no need for you to drag that thing around. Here, let me help you,' said George taking the green sack and hauling it up on his shoulders. 'Phew, this is some weight. You've dragged this all the way here from your homes? You're stronger than you look. What have you got in here?'

'Oh, this and that,' said Vera.

'We know how important the jumble sale is. We thought it only right that we donated a few things,' added Edith.

'But I could have taken this stuff here myself and saved you the bother,' said George.

'Oh it's really no bother,' replied Vera, 'and besides we wanted to help you set up the jumble sale.'

'That's very kind,' said George putting the sack down on the stage, 'but there isn't that much stuff for me to sort out.'

'Well not yet,' said Edith. George frowned when he heard this, he was not sure what Edith meant.

'So let's see what's in this green sack of yours then,' said George as he tipped the contents of the sack onto the stage. 'Well, there's a sight. You ladies most certainly like the colour green.' Indeed every item in the bag was green. There was a green jumper, green trousers, green socks, a green woolly hat with a green bobble on top, a green apron, a green silk scarf, a green handbag, green gloves, a length of green hosepipe, a green shirt, a green coat, an enormous green blanket and much, much more, all green.

'Green is such a cheery colour I find,' said Edith.

'Yes,' added Vera, 'and so very useful.'

'Useful?' said George.

'Why yes,' said Vera, 'you know I do believe that green would look quite fetching on you, young man.'

'Oh no,' said George, 'in the police we always wear blue, dark blue. Always have done, always will do.'

Edith and Vera gave each other a knowing glance, reached out and held each other's hand. In the depths of their eyes a faint light glimmered and grew, together they chanted:

'Try on these clothes of green,

the colour in which to be seen.

The pinnacle of style

to catch the criminal vile

in a trap of cunning keen.'

The light in their eyes faded then disappeared, their hands separated.

'You know what,' said George, 'I think that green rather suits me. Do you mind if I try one or two of these items on?'

'Not at all,' said Vera, 'you'll find that they are just the right size for you.'

'You can draw the stage curtains, to give you some privacy while you get changed,' added Edith.

'An excellent idea,' said George as he gathered up the green shirt, jumper, trousers, gloves and shoes. (Yes, there were even green shoes in the sack, size tens, which fitted George perfectly.) 'I won't be a moment,' he added as he closed the stage curtains and disappeared behind them.

Edith walked over to the remaining green items and picked out the woolly hat with a bobble on top and the green handbag.

'I'm all kitted out now,' said George parting the curtains a few feet and stepping through the gap. 'Well, what do you think?'

'Perhaps a little light,' suggested Vera as she climbed up on the stage and walked over to the spotlight. George had left the spotlight just behind the curtains, pointing towards the gap in the curtains. Vera plugged it in and switched it on. A bright, hot light shone through the gap between the curtains, illuminating George and casting his shadow against the wall of the hall.

'Oh yes, it's very smart, isn't it?' said Vera.

'Although if I could suggest one thing,' added Edith.

'What's that?' asked George.

'Why don't you try this hat on?' suggested Edith.

'Well I suppose so, yes.' George took the green woolly hat and put it on. 'Not bad, but a bit warm for wearing indoors, especially in this light.'

At that moment Edith and Vera both clicked their fingers, there was a flash, a puff of smoke and the spotlight went out.

'Oh dear,' said Vera, 'the spotlight has blown.'

'You had better call the janitor,' suggested Edith, 'and ask him to replace the bulb.'

'Yes, I suppose I had better do so,' said George as he walked over to the intercom and pressed the button for the janitor's office.

'Yeah, wot is it?' squawked the intercom.

'Is that the janitor?' asked George.

'Course it is, you pressed for the janitor's office and you got the janitor's office.'

'Oh good, well we're in the Great Hall and it seems that the bulb in the spotlight has blown. Could you bring a replacement?'

'S'pose I have to, don't I.'

'Thanks,' said George then turning towards Edith and Vera added, 'He'll be over soon.' George looked at Vera and Edith and saw that Edith was holding the green handbag. 'You don't expect me to carry that do you, I don't think it's quite my style.'

'It's not the handbag that's for you, it what's inside it that's for you,' replied Edith.

'What's that then?' said George as he walked back towards Edith and Vera, 'A green handkerchief?'

'No,' replied Edith.

'Well what then?' asked George as he reached Edith.

In a single move Edith swung her arm in an arc bringing the green handbag down on George's head with a dull thud. George fell to the floor.

'A brick,' said Edith to the unconscious George.

'I do think that you should say sorry, he may not understand just yet,' said Vera.

'I'm sorry George, but soon you will see that it is for the best,' said Edith who then bent over and pulled the green woollen hat down so that it covered the whole of George's face. Every inch of George was now covered in green.

Well, that's done,' said Vera. 'But we'd best hurry up, the janitor will be here soon and we're not ready yet.'

'Oh yes, you're right,' said Edith.

They both rushed back to the remaining contents of the green sack. They grabbed the enormous green blanket and hauled this over to the statue of Bealeca. They each grabbed one end of the blanket and started to swing it to and fro, swinging the blanket a little higher each time.

'One, two, three, release,' cried Vera and they both let go of the blanket which flew through the air and landed covering the statue of Bealeca. But it wasn't a plain green blanket. Drawn on the side of the blanket was the snarling face, long bandy arms and pot-bellied body that Vic had encountered not so very long ago. Once Edith and Vera had made a few adjustments these designs seemed to turn the statue of Bealeca into a large, fearsome green figure that stood ten feet tall.

'Ok, one more thing to do before the janitor arrives,' said Edith.

Vera headed back to the stage and picked up the fine green silk scarf and tied it to the spotlight so that the scarf covered the lens. Meanwhile Edith headed to the hall light switches and, when Vera had finished tying the scarf, Edith switched the hall lights off. The room was plunged into darkness and fell silent. A moment later there was a dull thud.

'Oh I'm so sorry,' said Edith from the darkness of the hall.

'What have you just done?' asked Vera.

'I think I just trod on George.'

'Never mind that, get up here on stage and make it quick. He'll be here any moment now.'

'I'm coming, I'm coming, only it isn't easy to find your way in the dark.'

But their chattering ceased the moment they heard footsteps from the corridor approaching the hall.

'What's been 'appening 'ere then?' said a voice from down the corridor. 'Why's it all gone dark?'

A little out of breath Edith made her way onto the stage and joined Vera who was standing behind the curtains, just to one side of the spotlight. A beam of light shone out from the corridor. Gradually the footsteps grew louder and the beam of light grew brighter. Finally a figure arrived in the hall, it was the janitor.

'What's 'appened to all the lights in 'ere?' said Phil. 'Why 'ave they all gone out? I thought it was only the spotlight that 'ad blown.'

In his hand he was carrying a torch that sent a powerful beam of light searching through the Great Hall. The beam pointed at the stage, but all he could see was the curtains, which were still a few feet apart. He pointed the beam at the wall, straight over the body of the unconscious George, but there was nothing there. He pointed the beam at the statue of Bealeca and saw a ten-foot-tall green figure snarling at him.

Edith and Vera held each other's hands, a soft light glowed in their eyes and on the edge of hearing they murmured,

'See the Celtic queen on pedestal lofty,

her fair smile turned to grimace toothy.

Deadly claws now end her graceful arms.

A fearsome beast sure to cause you harm.'

Vic gasped and dropped his torch in shock. 'A t-tr-troll! But I fought they weren't real.' He bent down and picked up the torch.

Edith and Vera continued their murmur,

'George, wake up!

Stand up!

You time has come to be revived.

Show this thief

his firm belief

that trolls exist and make him terrified.'

George woke up and started to get to his feet.

'Oooh, my head. What happened?' said George as he got up. He reached up and clutched his head, still covered by the green woolly hat. 'Oooooh, I think I've got a headache. Aaaarrrrrgggh!'

'What's making that noise?' yelled Vic as he fumbled with his torch and waved its beam of light around the room. The beam settled on George, clad entirely in green and clutching his head. 'Oh no, it can't be, but it is. It's another troll! But that's not possible.'

Edith and Vera, still holding hands, their eyes still glowing, clicked their fingers. At that very moment the blown light bulb re-connected and the spotlight flickered back to life. The spotlight shone through the silk scarf and on to the gap in the curtains. Edith and Vera stepped into the spotlight beam, their shadows cast in green light on to the far wall of the Great Hall. Together they chanted,

'There was a thief called Villainous Vic

and everything he saw he would nick.

Of trolls he had a fear

and would never go near,

but would run away at full wick,

that scaredy-cat Villainous Vic.'

Vic looked from the statue to George to the two shadows on the wall. 'F-f-four trolls! How can that be? I was told that there was no such fing as trolls, that they was just tricks of the mind. But these four trolls are as real as anyfing. Oh my me.'

Shaking with fear Vic shone the beam from his torch around the room and onto the other items that Edith and Vera had brought in the sack, scattered across the Great Hall floor.

'They've turned everything green! The trolls have turned all of the jumble green! When the troll said he was going to do "bad fings" to me I didn't fink he meant turn me green. Oh my me! I don't wanna be turned green. Help! Help! Somebody help me! There's four trolls here and they're going to do bad fings to me. They're going to turn me green. I don't wanna be green! Help! Get me out of 'ere!'

Vic started to back down the corridor, then he turned and ran.

#  Clearing Up

When they were sure that Vic was gone Edith and Vera let go of each other's hand and the glow in their eyes faded. A quiet descended on the hall broken only by George's muffled cries. They both jumped off the stage, Edith headed towards the light switches while Vera moved towards George. As Edith turned the lights back on Vera pulled the green woollen hat off George.

'Quick George,' said Vera, 'can you hear those footsteps?'

'What footsteps?' replied George, blinking from the shock of the light.

'The ones going down the corridor.'

'What about them?' asked George.

'That's Villainous Vic, the criminal that everyone is after,' cried Vera. 'Get after him!'

'Villainous Vic, here in Bealey Town Hall! Right I'm after him,' replied George and then set off after the disappearing footsteps.

Villainous Vic ran through the corridors of the town hall, past the janitor's office, on to the back door and out into the cool night air. Still running he tore down the streets, glancing around him as he went in case there was any sign of the trolls. Bealey did not look any different to how it had ever looked but now there might be a fearsome troll lurking somewhere in its streets.

"A troll", if only it was just "a troll". There had been four of them, big, green, noisy brutes. No doubt up to no good and looking to harm a hard-working criminal such as Vic. But where could he hide from four such beasts? Where could he be safe?

Vic reached a crossroads and paused for a moment. He removed his beret and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow. There was only one place where he had ever felt secure in the knowledge that no troll could ever get to him. Dropping his beret on the pavement and, having checked that there still were no trolls about, he set of towards the one place where he would be safe.

Having sent George on his way Edith and Vera set about returning the Great Hall to its normal state. They pulled the green blanket down from the statue, turned the spotlight off and, when the spotlight had cooled, removed the silk scarf. Vera even left George's police uniform neatly folded up on one side of the stage with his helmet on top. When everything was as it should be they left the Great Hall and headed down the corridor towards the offices of Bealey Town Hall.

'What are we looking for down here?' asked Vera.

'Loot,' replied Edith.

'Loot? What loot?'

'Villainous Vic's loot. Don't you remember the newspaper?'

'Oh yes, I forgot,' said Vera. 'But what about the chair? Do you think that the talking chair is somewhere here?'

'He must have hidden it somewhere,' replied Edith, 'and I think I know where.'

At that moment Edith and Vera reached the door to the janitor's office. Edith turned the door handle and opened the door. The office looked normal enough with cupboards, a desk, filing cabinets and bookshelves. In front of the desk stood an ordinary looking office chair.

'Good evening and how are you,' said Edith.

'Who are you talking to?' asked Vera.

'The chair of course, this must be the talking chair,' replied Edith.

'Are you sure? I mean, it's not saying much for a talking chair.'

'No, I suppose not,' said Edith. Indeed the chair stood there and said nothing.

'Oh you'll get narfin' out of 'im,' said a voice behind them. 'I mean, believe me I've tried but it just blanks me. I dunno what to fink 'bout it.'

Slowly Edith and Vera turned around and saw that behind the open office door stood a wooden chair.

'Who said that?' asked Edith.

'Who said wot?' said a voice that seemed to come from the chair.

Edith and Vera turned to look where the voice had come from, but all they could see was the ordinary looking wooden chair.

'Who said "You'll get nothing out of him"?' said Vera.

'Oh that, it were me. I was just trying to help you out,' said the chair.

'It talks, the chair talks,' said Edith.

'Course I do. I'm a talkin' chair, so I'm bound to talk.'

'Only,' said Vera, 'something is not quite right with it.'

'Not quite right at all,' added Edith, 'I wonder what Professor Rawbling is going to say when he gets his invention back?'

Sarge sat at his desk in Bealey Police Station and sighed. He had spread a map of Bealey across his desk and was marking the location of each of Villainous Vic's crimes with a small red flag stuck to a pin. Pinning the flags into the map was difficult as he still had a finger and a thumb bandaged up. He also had his foot in plaster and yet more bandages wrapped around his head. He stared at the map, straining his eyes, looking for a pattern to the robberies. But there was none, the red flags seemed to be scattered randomly across the map.

Sarge clutched his head and groaned. It was late and he was tired. He heaved himself up, reached for his crutches and hobbled out of his office and towards the front door of the police station. He had to clear his head and for that he needed some fresh air. He would take a short stroll and refreshed would return to his desk and the stresses and strains of police detective work.

He opened the front door of Bealey Police Station and walked out into the gloom of the night. Through the murky light of the streetlights he thought he could see a figure approaching. It was moving quickly, running towards the police station and shouting.

'Help me!' cried the figure. 'Please help me!'

'Who's there?' called Sarge.

'Help me!' shouted the figure again, running straight for the police station and straight for Sarge.

'Halt!' shouted Sarge as the figure got closer and closer, but it didn't, instead it ran on and on. 'No, no, no, arghhh!' cried Sarge as the figure smashed into him, knocking him back into the doorway of the police station. 'Ooooh, I think I've broken something,' said Sarge.

'Officer, arrest me,' said the figure.

'What for? Assaulting a police officer?' said Sarge as he got back to his feet.

'Doesn't matter what for, just arrest me. Please!' said the figure.

Sarge looked at the figure pleading with him.

'Aren't you Phillainous Phic, the janitor from the town hall? I can't lock up our hard-working janitor, we need you at the town hall.'

Vic remembered that he still had his false moustache on. He tore the moustache off.

'No, I'm not Phillainous Phic, I'm Vic, Villainous Vic.'

'My goodness,' said Sarge staring at the changed face, 'but if you're Villainous Vic then who was Phillainous Phic?'

'I was,' said Vic.

'But I thought you said that you were Villainous Vic.'

'I was both, but never mind about that, just arrest me.'

'But I can't arrest you, I'm not sure who you are. You say that you're Phillainous Phic but that you're also Villainous Vic. I mean, who should I say I've arrested?'

But Vic wasn't listening, instead he was looking down the street. Sarge followed Vic's stare to see what he was looking at. There was another figure approaching, this one clothed entirely in green.

'Oh no,' cried Vic, 'it's a ... it's a ... a ... t-t-tr-troll!'

'No it's not,' said Sarge, 'it's P.C. George.'

'I don't care what you say, I know a troll when I sees one and I is getting out of 'ere. You must 'ave cells in the police station.'

'Well, yes, of course.'

'So where are they?'

'Down the corridor, on the right. But you can't come in, the police station is closed.'

'Never mind that, I need to get myself locked up and safe,' said Vic and started barging forward, trying to get through the door.

'You can't come in,' cried Sarge. 'Please don't push me, I'm an injured man.'

'Get out of me way,' said Vic, 'I don't need you to help me I can lock myself up in the cell.'

Vic pushed hard against Sarge, knocking him over. Then he ran into the police station trampling over the prone body of Sarge. A moment later George arrived.

'George,' moaned Sarge.

'Evening Sarge,' said George, 'What are you doing on the floor?'

'Someone pushed me over.'

'Who was it?' asked George.

'You know I'm not sure,' said Sarge. 'Someone came by, could have been Vic, could have been the janitor. He knocked me to the floor. Said he had to be locked up in the cells to protect him from trolls. Silly fellow.' Sarge looked up at George and saw that he was wearing green. 'And another thing, why are you wearing green?'

George was about to tell Sarge what had happened that night, but when he looked down he saw that Sarge had fainted.

#  Bealey Bugle - Friday

Bealey's Premier Newspaper

Villainous Vic Arrested

The crime wave afflicting Bealey officially came to an end last night when, in a sensational move, Villainous Vic was arrested by the police. P.C. George had this to say.

'Well it was all a bit of a blur. One minute I was setting up the jumble sale then the next thing I know I'm pursuing Villainous Vic through the streets of Bealey. I found him in the police station trying to lock himself in one of the cells. For some reason he seemed scared of me and pleaded with me to lock the cell, so I obliged. Then he said that he was "finally safe" and how "the trolls won't get me in here". The strange thing is, that's almost exactly the same thing he said when I last arrested him.'

When asked about the jumble sale P.C. George said that he 'had a surprise for the good people of Bealey.'

Professor Re-united with Chair

The arrest of Villainous Vic meant that late last night Professor Rawbling was finally reunited with his prized invention the ChatChair1000, the world's first talking chair.

'Well, obviously I'm delighted,' said the professor when he spoke to reporters. 'You just cannot imagine what it has been like these past few days. I've been so worried, thinking that I may never see my prized creation ever again. To think of the years of toil I put in working on this invention and that it could all have been lost.'

This reporter was intrigued to finally get to see the famous talking chair that was stolen shortly before being unveiled to the public. The ChatChair1000 seems to be a perfectly normal looking wooden chair, such as many families may have around their breakfast table. However, this reporter could not hide his shock when he heard a voice coming from the chair saying, 'Wotcha mate.'

When asked what the voice was the professor replied, 'Oh that was nothing, I should not pay it any attention.'

'Nah, it was me,' said the voice, 'I said "wotcha mate", I was being friendly like.'

At this point the professor butted in, saying to the chair, 'Now listen! "Wotcha mate" is no way to address people. If you are going to speak then you will have to do so properly.'

'But I was speaking proper, I was speaking proper proper.'

In spite of this being the first public demonstration of his invention the professor did not appear to be pleased. Instead he shouted at the chair, 'There is no such thing as "proper proper". Either you talk correctly or I'll have to consider getting you reprogrammed.'

'What do you mean there's no such fing as "proper proper", course there is.'

It was here that this reporter deemed it was time to leave and made his exit.

Judge's Gavel Arrives

Judge Fotheringay of Bealey Crown Court has finally received her replacement gavel. The excited judge had this to say, 'Frankly the timing was perfect. I've got my brand-new gavel and I'm keen to get stuck into the judging. What's more I hear that the police have arrested this Villainous Vic fellow so there should be a trial any day now. I'm so excited I just can't wait. Do any of you newspaper chaps happen to know when the trial is going to be? Tomorrow morning, is it? Excellent, that's absolutely excellent.'

This reporter is glad to see that the long arm of the law is now fully equipped.

#  Justice

'Silence in court! Silence in court! Silence in court!' shouted Judge Fotheringay while banging her brand-new gavel.

'Excuse me your honour but...' began Sarge.

'Silence in court! Silence in court!' Judge Fotheringay banged her gavel some more.

'Oooooowwww!' screamed Sarge.

'Silence in court! Silence in court!'

'You got my hand with your gavel,' cried Sarge, 'and anyway it was you who was making the noise.'

'Was it? Oops, silly me,' replied the judge. 'Anyway, where were we?'

'You were just about to pass judgement,' said Sarge shaking his throbbing hand to cool the pain.

'Oh yes, so I was.' Judge Fotheringay straightened her wig and squared her shoulders towards the defendant. 'This court has heard that you have committed many crimes. Crimes to which you freely admit your guilt. Crimes that have affected almost every citizen in the town of Bealey. A so-called crime wave that nearly bought the town of Bealey to its knees.' Judge Fotheringay tilted her head forward and looked over her spectacle rims at Villainous Vic standing in the court dock. She continued.

'However, I understand that your actions have been driven by a fear of a ten-foot-tall green troll. Mindful of your mental condition I am inclined to be lenient.'

There was a gasp from the crowded courtroom followed by a hubbub of chatter.

'Silence in court! Silence in court!'

Judge Fortheringay hammered her gavel and the noise quietened to a murmur and then to silence. High up in the gallery Edith and Vera looked down on the courtroom and exchanged glances. They were just about to link hands when a voice cried out from below.

'No, your honour, no!' It was none other than Villainous Vic himself. 'Before leniency moves you, just fink for a moment. Fink of the people in this 'ere courtroom. Keep them and their belongings safe from my meddling 'ands. Fink of the police. Upstanding officers of the law, who have been overworked this past week trying to solve my crimes. Fink of the town of Bealey. How does a town overrun with crime appear to the world? Fink of Professor Rawbling. What was it like when he found out that his precious invention had been stolen by none other than me. Fink of Mr. Topnut whose prize hat I stole. Fink of Mrs. Stukup who lost her necklace. But also fink of me, a criminal who is frightened of trolls and only knows one place where he can be safe. Please, your honour, send me back to prison for all our sakes.'

'I'm sorry,' said Judge Fotheringay, 'but what does he mean by "fink"?'

'He means "think" your honour,' replied Sarge.

'Oh it's "think" is it. Well I suppose I see what he means, we should "think" of all those things. Very well, I shall sentence you to be imprisoned until... until... well, for as long as you want to be there.'

'Which will be a very long time your honour,' said Vic with a beaming smile spread across his face.

Sarge moved towards the dock and led Vic out of the court.

'Fank-you very much your honour,' said Vic as he left the court. 'I promise I won't try and escape again.'

'I hereby declare this court dismissed,' said Judge Fortheringay as she got to her feet. She turned to leave and added, 'You know, I quite enjoyed that. This new gavel of mine is rather wonderful.'

As the people of Bealey started to leave the courtroom, high up in the gallery Edith and Vera sat motionless. They sat still until everyone had filed out of the courtroom and they were all alone up in the gallery.

'I thought we were going to have to do some magic,' said Vera.

'But all we needed was Villainous Vic,' replied Edith.

'Of Bealey town he made us "fink", now he's being taken off to the clink.'

'Where he'll be securely bound, leaving us all safe and sound.'

They sat in silence for a moment longer. Then Edith turned to Vera and said, 'I don't know about you but after all that I could just do with a cup of tea.'

'Oh yes,' replied Vera, 'and maybe a slice of cake as well.'

And with that they got up and left.

#  Happy Endings

'Good afternoon sir, I'm from the Bealey Bugle. Would you be able to spare me a few minutes?'

'I won't be a second,' replied P.C. George into the reporter's microphone, 'I'm just re-uniting this gentleman with his lost hat. There, done, now how can I help you?'

'How would you say the events of the past week have turned out?' asked the reporter.

'Well, as they say, "All's well that ends well". Villainous Vic is headed back to prison, Professor Rawbling has got his talking chair back and the jumble sale is going ahead as planned.'

'Ah yes, the jumble sale. I understand that you had to make a few changes to that.'

'Well we didn't have enough jumble for a proper jumble sale but then we found Villainous Vic's loot hidden away in the janitor's office. So we just changed the signs to read "Jumble Sale and Reclaim the Loot Day". We have been rushed off our feet all day returning the things that Vic stole to their rightful owners. In fact, I've never seen the Great Hall this busy.'

'So you'd say that everything turned out well in the end?'

'Oh definitely,' then turning away he added, 'What's that sir? You would like to buy the green hat with the bobble on top. I'll be with you in a second sir. I'm sorry,' he said to the reporter, 'we're just so busy today.'

The reporter turned away from P.C. George and started to wander around the bustling Great Hall. He spied two elderly ladies and, always keen to get the human angle on any story, headed straight for them, microphone in hand.

'Good afternoon ladies, I'm from the Bealey Bugle. I was wondering what you thought of the spell Bealey has been through this past week?'

'Spell!' said Edith. 'You must have got us confused with someone else. We've never had anything to do with a spell, have we Vera?'

'Oh no, we're hardly the sort to be messing about with spells,' replied Vera.

'Did you think that the crime wave cast a shadow across Bealey?' asked the reporter trying again.

'Oh we've never cast anything young man,' said Vera.

'He's definitely got us confused with someone else,' added Edith.

The reporter's brow creased as he tried to understand the two ladies. 'I'm sorry, I don't think that I understand you. Perhaps you could tell me what feelings this past week has conjured up?'

'That's your third question and I'm afraid that we don't conjure either. Just what sort of people do you think we are?' said Edith.

'I know,' said Vera, 'he's accused us of spells, casting and conjuring. Who does he think we are?'

'Well then... er... which...' began the reporter.

'I think,' said Vera interrupting the reporter, 'that you've asked quite enough questions. Hasn't he Edith?'

'Oh, absolutely,' replied Edith, and with that they turned to walk out of the Great Hall.

'Ladies, come back. Please! What have I done wrong? All I said was "which" and I can't see why that would trouble you so. Maybe you didn't hear me right and thought I said something else. I meant no offence.'

But when Edith and Vera heard the reporter say the word "which" a second time they doubled their pace, leaving behind a very perplexed reporter who didn't realise quite how close he had come to the biggest story he might ever uncover.

Later that day in Bealey Prison Toothsome Terry was woken from his afternoon nap by the clink of his cell door being unlocked, the shuffle of footsteps and the clink of his cell door being locked again.

'So, you're back then,' said Terry. 'I didn't think that you'd like it too much on the outside.'

'I guess I'm not suited to life out there,' replied Vic.

'So what made you come back then?'

'Trolls.'

'You mean you saw a troll while you were out there?'

'Not one, four.'

'Four trolls! I thought you said that there was no such fing, that they was just in your mind.'

'I know what I saw and I saw four trolls. Four huge, green, ugly trolls and all they wanted to do was to get me and turn me green. I 'ad no choice but to come back 'ere.'

'I always fought that you'd be safer in 'ere. You know what I says now?'

'What?'

'This time, stay 'ere.'

And you know, this time he did.
If you have enjoyed Villainous Vic then why not try Bogamus in Space, the third book in the Bogamus and Friends series.

#  Bogamus in Space

Bogamus dug his fingernails into the soft thick bark of a fallen tree. He heaved his long arms as hard as he could and scrabbled his legs, hauling his body to the top of the enormous tree trunk. Standing up straight on the top he looked around him. Spying an enormous boulder twenty yards along the riverbank he jumped to the ground, landed with a thud and sprinted off towards the huge rock. On reaching the boulder he reached up and grabbed onto the first handhold he saw, tugging and straining for all he was worth he pulled himself all the way to the top of the rock. As he dragged himself up he could be heard panting to himself.

'Got to go quicker, huff puff, go to climb higher, puff huff, got to be first.'

From the top of the rock he looked down and along the riverbank. There he could see his bridge, which meant that he was near the end of his workout. Stood next to the bridge was a particularly large goat with a satchel strapped to his back. This was Bydor, the largest and strongest of the three billy goats Gruff. Bogamus climbed down the rock and ran the last few paces back to his bridge.

'Good afternoon Bogamus,' said Bydor.

'Huff-puff-huff, yes a very, huff, good afternoon to you as well,' gasped Bogamus.

'There is a letter for you,' said Bydor, who could lift even the heaviest package and so had been given the job of valley postman. Bydor stretched his neck back and, reaching into the satchel, picked up a letter with his teeth. He dropped the letter into Bogamus's hand and clip-clopped off to make the rest of his deliveries.

Bogamus looked at the envelope, it was addressed to "Bogamus, Bogamus's Bridge, Magical Realm". But the letter had been all over the place on its journey. First it had been sent to the elves, who had marked it "Not know by the fair folk of the Elven Woods", then it had been sent to the dwarves who had marked it "The Dwarf Council lets it hereby be known that no one of this name abides in the Dwarvern Caverns". The goblins had stamped it "UNKNOWN" using one of their machines. Even the fairies had written on it, in delicate, curling letters, "We know you? No, we no know you." Bogamus remembered the fairies and their fondness for japes and jokes.

Bogamus did not receive that many letters. Whatever was in the envelope must be very important for someone to have written it down and mailed it to him. But with all these stamps on it the letter should have arrived ages ago. Still worrying would not make it arrive any earlier, so Bogamus tore the envelope open and unfolded the letter inside. It was from his sister Salith, who lived in Troll Town with her husband Jarrid and their daughter Boonetta.

Dear Bogamus,

At this time of year Troll Town is not the best place for a growing girl like your niece Boonetta. The heat and the city fumes seem to be sapping her strength. Living in the city her skin has become so pale, not the healthy, vibrant green that it should be. Jarrid and I were thinking that it would be good for her to see some of the country. Getting some exercise in the clean mountain air would do her the world of good. I hope you don't think that we're imposing but we were wondering whether she could spend some time with you? I hear that you've done some lovely things to your bridge and I'm sure that she would have a marvellous time staying with you for, say, a week. She will be arriving on Sunday afternoon.

Your loving sister,

Salith

Sunday afternoon! But that is today! Slowly Bogamus lowered the letter, revealing a figure that at first seemed to be a smaller reflection of himself. The figure was seven feet tall and had black hair tied into bunches with pink ribbons. In one hand was a suitcase, while in the other hand they held a pink teddy bear by one of its legs.

'Hello Uncle Bogamus,' said the figure.

'Er... hello Boonetta,' replied Bogamus.

'It's all right Uncle Bogamus, you can call me Boo. Everyone calls me Boo. Mummy and daddy say that Teddy and me are going to stay with you for a week. Apparently, I need some mountain air to do me good.'

Bogamus folded up the letter and put it in his pocket.

'Yes,' said Bogamus, 'that's right.'

'Uncle Bogamus, why are you sweating?' asked Boo.

'Because I've been getting the mountain air.'

'Really, will mountain air do the same to me?'

'Well that all depends on how much mountain air you get. Just lately I've been getting quite a lot.'

Boonetta frowned and said 'But Uncle Bogamus, why have you been getting so much mountain air? And why does it make you so warm?'

'That's because I am in training.'

'In training? What are you training for Uncle Bogamus?'

'The Troll Games!'

The Troll Games were an annual contest to see which troll was the best at running, jumping, climbing, roaring, throwing and all manner of other trollish things. The winners at the Troll Games were celebrated as heroes for the rest of the year. Everyone wanted to be a winner at the Troll Games or to claim that they knew somebody who had been a winner at the Troll Games.

'Uncle Bogamus, you are going to be in the Troll Games!' cried Boonetta. 'Does this mean that Teddy and me are also going to the Troll Games?' Boo waved her pink teddy bear by its leg over her head.

'Yes, it does,' replied Bogamus.

'Hooray!' shouted Boo.

That evening Bogamus made a delicious traditional trollish meal. Cooked up were pink worms wriggling away, yellow blobs that bobbed up and down and green swirls that turned and twisted around and around in the cooking pot. This was a trollish meal for champions. At Boo's insistence Bogamus even set out a small bowl of trollish food for Teddy, although he did not seem particularly hungry and Boo had to help him finish it.

When the meal was over Bogamus told Boo stories of his adventures and how he had met fairies, battled with an enchanter and even travelled to the real world but had managed to make his way back to his bridge in the heart of the Magical Realm. When the stories were over it was dark and time for bed. Boo went to sleep with thoughts of the Troll Games and Uncle Bogamus's adventures swirling through her mind.

The town of Bealey stood perilously close to Magical Realm, but in spite of this almost none of its inhabitants had any idea that hordes of goblins marched within a few miles of its library or that witches lived in woods that could be seen from the top of the town's tallest buildings. But then again nobody in the Magical Realm had heard of roadworks or quarterly sales targets or even television sets, yet all these things were just as close to them.

So it was that on that very night on top of a hill just outside the town of Bealey (and not that far from Bogamus's bridge) Professor Rawbling sat at a console covered in switches, knobs and dials. Above the console were several screens, a green line rotating around each screen. Sometimes a white blob would appear on the rotating line and the console would go 'ping'. Professor Rawbling examined the screens, from time to time he would adjust one of the dials or flip one of the switches. Above the screens "BETI" had been painted on the wall in large, square letters. Beneath this were the words "Bealey Extra Terrestrial Investigator". Next to Professor Rawbling sat Sarge from the Bealey Police Force.

'Professor Rawbling, could you explain one more time what it is that we are doing here?' asked Sarge.

Professor Rawbling did not flinch from his study of the screens. 'Exactly the same thing that I have told you countless times before,' he said. 'I have applied my genius to the greatest question known to humankind.'

'You mean solving crime?' said Sarge.

'No I do not mean solving crime, that is for the police to do. My genius must be preserved for the most important matters. The question I wish to solve is whether we are alone.'

'Well, there's only me and you in here,' said Sarge.

'No, not in this room! I mean, are we alone in the Universe? Is it only this planet in the entire Universe that harbours life or has life spread across the Universe like some infestation? So I have applied my genius to create all this.' Professor Rawbling waved his hand, gesturing to the contents of the room. 'The Bealey Extra Terrestrial Investigator, or BETI for short, is the pinnacle of my genius to date. Outside this control centre there are hundreds of the highest technological sensors and detectors, each examining a different star. Together they are designed to scour the universe for any evidence of extra-terrestrial life.'

'Extra what?' asked Sarge.

'Extra-terrestrial life, living organisms from another planet.'

'Oh, I see, you mean aliens.'

'I believe that the common people refer to them as such, yes,' confirmed Professor Rawbling.

'And you need all this technology stuff to detect the aliens?'

'The problem is not simple, it is requiring the full extent of my genius. Do you know how many stars there are in this galaxy alone?'

'No, I can't say that I do.'

'There are over one-hundred-billion of them. Just counting them would be some task, but this creation of mine has to examine every single one, looking for evidence of extra-terrestrials. Building and operating this wonder takes all of my genius.'

'So, er, what is that you need me to do then.'

'Well,' replied Professor Rawbling, 'the search for alien life takes all of my concentration, all of my energy. It leaves nothing for other, lesser matters.'

'You need me to sort out these other matters then?' asked Sarge.

'Indeed I do.'

'So what are they then? Something to do with the search for aliens?' asked Sarge.

'No,' answered Professor Rawbing, 'I need you to make the tea.'

At that moment there was a knock at the door.

'You had better go and see who that is,' said Professor Rawbling, 'I must not leave the sensors, the aliens may make contact at any moment.'

Sarge got up, walked over to the door and opened it. In walked P.C. George and P.C. Harriet.

'Evening Sarge,' said P.C. George. 'There's no reports of any crime tonight so I thought that, as P.C. Harriet has just joined the Bealey Police Force, I would show her the town. You know, the town hall, the library, Bealey Zoo, the park and of course the Bealey Extra Terrestrial Investigator.'

'George is being most helpful,' said P.C. Harriet, 'I feel like I already know the town and it's only my first day.'

'Professor Rawbling invents all kinds of things,' said P.C. George. 'Recently he has been searching for extra-terrestrial life. So, if you see any aliens with their ray-guns while out on patrol then this is the place to come.'

'Aliens with ray-guns!' exclaimed Professor Rawbling from the other side of the room. 'Utter nonsense! This is serious scientific research, not something off the television.'

'I think that perhaps we ought to leave Professor Rawbling and Sarge to their work,' said P.C. George. 'There is plenty more of Bealey to see. I think we should go to Bealey Town Hall next.'

'Thank-you so much,' added P.C. Harriet as they left.

Sarge returned back to the BETI console and sat down next to Professor Rawbling.

'Well?' asked Professor Rawbling, 'I don't see it.'

'There's no aliens out there tonight then?' replied Sarge.

'Not the aliens, no, the cup of tea. Where's my cup of tea?' demanded Professor Rawbling. 'I distinctly remember asking for a cup of tea.'

'Right away,' said Sarge who got up and headed off to the kitchen.

The rest of Bogamus in Space is available from your favourite ebook store.

