'Where the hell is Kenny?' Garner muttered. Grace sighed.

'Relax honey. It's only... ' - she consulted her watch - 'bean past pea.' She scowled at her watch. 'I fucking hate this new time system! Damn that Chrisbot to hell!'

Garner looked scandalised and quickly beaned himself. 'In the name of the Green, the Runner and the Holy Baked, Amen,' he mumbled.

'Don't blaspheme, darling,' he chastised nervously. 'Chrisbot may be watching us.'

'Well.' Grace huffed sulkily, pointing at a large, bean-adorned clock behind her. 'Just look what it did to Big Ben.'

'GRACE!' Garner snapped. 'Big Ben is a sexist, sizeist term.'

Grace sighed wearily. She was so sick and tired of all the over-the-top political correctness. To stop anyone being offended, Jesnailsmas lights had recently been renamed 'happylights' in public. Oddly enough, it wasn't Chrisbot's doing, either. 'Of course I meant Proportional B, dear,' she said.

Their bickering was interrupted by a group of men trying their hardest to look shifty. Two of them wore a red carnation in their buttonholes. The third, who didn't appear to have understood the concept, had opted for a more stylish pink tulip. They were conferring together and shooting very obvious glances in Grace and Garner's direction. Grace nodded at her husband and said importantly 'I'll affirm their identities with the Sign, and the Password.' She sidled over to them.

She raised her hand and placed it conpicuously on top of her head. The men stared at her.

'Password?'

'Er... the shaded albatross unclips the dusk from Australian roads,' one replied. There was a short silence.

Grace turned to the man with the pink tulip, who repeated the password dutifully.

The last man seemed to be staring gormlessly at some inner vision. Grace prodded him with the spout of her teapot. He gave a start.

'Monkeys!'

Grace sighed. 'I'm sure that giving Rinso his own password completely defeats the point. Ben, Dale, Garner's over there.'

They walked back over to Garner, who was talking to an irritable looking Doors. He turned towards them as they approached.

'Kenny just texted me, he's going to be late. Apparently some ninja thugs painted his car pink in the night. Now he's refusing to drive it.'

'My car's pink!' Dale said enthusiastically. Ben glared at him.

'It's so bright, it blinds the eyes of other drivers!' he snapped. 'It could cause a MASSIVE ACCIDENT! I'm sure it violates some rules of the Hovercar Highway Code. I don't know why people stand for it myself. Pink hovercars, what next? Let people get away with that and who knows...'

He continued to grumble under his breath for several minutes as the party walked down Milkbean Street, through Bean Square and into the round, silver Sugar Snap Café. Everyone ordered the lunchtime special, which was coffee pizza and bean juice, and sat down at a round silver table.

Grace cleared her throat. 'So, the second annual meeting of the DMC Brotherhood is now in session. What shall we do now?'

Garner frowned. 'Grace, "Brotherhood" is not politically correct. It's dismissive of women.'

Grace sighed. 'As the only woman here, I give you repressive male bastards permission to use it.' Garner scowled. Grace rolled her eyes.

'Fine! Fine! We are now the DMC Siblinghood. Is that better?' She took the uncharacteristic silence as affirmation, and plunged on, lest they still be in the Sugar Snap at string o'clock (nee: 11pm).

'Anyone fancy the Chav Museum?'

Garner shrugged. Dale nodded eagerly. Doors glared through lowered eyelids at his phone, which had just announced loudly the arrival of another text from Kenny. Rinso was preoccupied staring at his reflection in the back of a spoon as he tried to see what he looked like with two packets of sugar jammed up his nose. Ben looked thoughtful. Grace watched him apprehensively.

'I can see no immediate problems with this...'

'Great!' Grace blurted, before Ben found a few reasons why a visit to the Chav Museum would bring about the end of the world. 'Ancient History is so interesting!'

Doors snorted. 'You know what else is interesting? Kenny's had his car repainted and managed to get out of his garage.' Dale gasped.

'But he's still running late.' He passed the phone to Garner, who stared at the message with his mouth open.

He looked up at Doors with an incredulous look on his face. 'But how the hell did he manage to get to France!?'


The Chav Museum was a round, silver building in Poddington Road. At this time of day it was packed with tourists and sightseers, all eager to learn of the mysteries of this intriguing creature of the past. Now sadly extinct, the chav had quickly become something of a phenomenon in these stylishly futuristic days.

Thick gold chains hung behind thick sheets of breakproof glass. Checked trousers, jackets and hats were arranged on lifelike models of chavs, made and dressed by expert chavologists. To complete the experience, chav music was piped in to give the tourists that feeling that they really were all the way back in the year 2005.

Dale wiggled his hips along to a dance remix of something that was dreadful in the first place. 'These people must really have known how to dance!' he called over to Ben, who stared intently at a display of 'bling' and tried his hardest to act like he didn't know who Dale was.

Rinso and Grace appeared. Rinso was fiddling with a lead pipe he'd just bought from the gift shop. 'Apparently it's just like the ones they used to use to like, break windows and stuff!' He mimed the smashing of a window, then leapt around in the imaginary broken glass.

Grace called them together. 'Guys, we've got dinner booked at the Le Ha soon. I think we should leave when Garner and Doors are done in the interactive chavmobile.'

They proceeded down through Ye Olde Crack Alley to the Interactive Experience, where Garner and Doors were busy spitting onto a virtual pavement and stealing virtual tyres. When they emerged, Doors regaled the party with tales of his loud music to speed ratio, while Garner lagged behind, glowering. 'Stupid bloody game if you ask me,' he muttered angrily. Dale patted him on the arm sympathetically.


The Le Ha restaurant was a place that couldn't decide whether it was going to be extremely classy and continental, or extremely Jesnailsmassy. It had therefore attempted both, resulting in something that was cataclysmic to the brain.

Ba was seated at a red and white checkered table, wondering what was taking the others so long.

A waiter with slicked-back hair and a silly little moustache sidled up to the table. 'Bon day!' he announced. 'I am le Hermes! Qu'est-ce que voulezvavavoomvous, mon customeur?'

'Ba is waiting for his associates,' said Ba, considering the waiter barely worth a glance. But somethimg made him doubletake. 'Why is the foolish servant dressed like an elf?!' he demanded.

'Pourquoi? Mon customeur, c'est le time for Jesnailsmasss! C'est festive! C'est jolleee! C'est--'

'Silence!'

'C'est ne silence pas!'

'Ba demands that you refrain!'

Le Hermes gasped. 'Mon croissant to you, mon customeur!' he shrieked, hurrying away with his elf-bells jingling.

'Ah, there he is,' said Garner. 'Ba, why didn't you meet up with us?'

'Ba does not like museums.'

'I don't blame you,' said Garner. 'It's downright disrespectful to those existentially challenged. I mean, to... to make an exhibition out of them...'

'Shut up,' said Grace. 'Let's order. The sooner we leave this place, the better.' She looked around with disgust at the festive décor, hugging her teapot. 'It makes my eyes hurt.'

'Now now, dear, don't be rude,' said Garner. 'But yes, ordering sounds like a very good idea indeed.'

'Kenny's just texted me again,' said Doors. 'He'll be a bit delayed again. He says he's become disillusioned with European politics and is running for French President, but that we should order something for him because he'll be here as soon as he can.'


Rinso was contemplating the unusual taste still lingering in his mouth as they left the restaurant. 'So what actually is poisson fromage yule log?' He paused. 'And weren't there more of us before?'

There was a blood-curdling scream from back inside. Le Hermes suddenly burst through the doors. 'LES MURDEREURS!' he screamed. 'MUUUURRRDERRRREEEEEEUUUUURRRS!!'

Ben raised his eyebrows. He should have expected as much. But which of them was it?

He surveyed the group. They all looked mightily suspicious. Was it Rinso, clutching the slightly bent-out-of-shape spoon? Was it Dale with the poison-tipped pink tulip? Was it Doors with the gas-filled sporran? Or was it Ba with his inherent hatred of humanity and the lead pipe he had stolen from Rinso? The many possible scenarios ran through his mind as he clutched at the hilt of his concealed katana, ready to defend himself if things got any uglier.

One thing was certain, however.

'THE WORLD IS GOING TO END!!!'


Small kids toddled around the room, trying to pull the decorations down and having tantrums when Mynona, who was trying to keep them all under control, rushed over to stop them.

'No!' she shouted. 'Leave the overly tall and heavy-with-baubles Jesnailsmas tree alone!'

The child this was directed at turned around and glared at her, before resuming his tugging.

'Gah! Right, enough! Orange juice time!' She handed out beakers in an attempt to calm them all down. She didn't notice the juice's slightly odd colour.

The kids slurped away at their drinks, and Mynona took this opportunity to collapse onto a chair and reflect on life and her plans for the holidays. Maybe she'd go skiing...

'Wassup, babizzles!'

She looked up. As if from nowhere, a greatly-afro'd apparition had appeared before her. 'I's turned all yo' juice into alcohizzle, dudes!'

'What?'

'May y'all be merry! Ya dig?'

The kids started to giggle. One fell over.

'Oh God no...'


Obob McGlory stood behind his white lecturn, grasping its sloping sides and leaning forwards. 'I know some of you out there are sceptics,' he said, his face set into an expression of determined conquest, 'but I believe we may have the return of Jesnails on our hands.'

His hair was snowy white, big, and vaguely omega-shaped. He wore a suit of the same colour, dazzlingly bright. His eyes were pale grey. Behind him was a studio-built home, various religious ornaments displayed prominently.

'I have been told,' he continued, 'and I feel it in my very bones - no, in fact, the very souls of my very bones - that miracles have been a-happening!' He pulled back and stared emotionally at the camera, giving what he had just said time to sink in. 'They say she walked upon dangerously thin ice and that it did not break, and I say this is true!' he cried. 'They say she turned orange juice into fine alcoholic beverage, and, by the Big G, I say this is also true!'

He felt the world hanging on his every word. He felt the world on the brink of religious revolution. Finally, a challenge to the loathéd Bean!

'Er... and I say... I say REJOICE!!'


Emperor Chrisbot did not rejoice. Neither did most people, being their usual indifferent selves, but Chrisbot's refusal to rejoice was stronger and more pertinent.

He slammed his fist into a big, black button on the wall and yelled into the speaker right by it. 'I want Jesnails stopped immediately!' he commanded, his voice echoing around and about the fortress. 'She must be destroyed! COMMENCE OPERATION REDSUIT!'

Outside, two passers-by looked up at the fortress, wondering what had happened now.

'That dictator has some serious problems,' said one of them.

'He wasn't always like that, apparently,' the other told him. 'They say it all started with an unfortunate incident involving an inexperienced pyrotechnician and a refrigerator.'

amelia: yo
i am a yoyo.

Chris: yes