Larry and Mick Have a Visit From Ned, Mick's Long Lost Cousin From the Hills

1. "Black Treacle"

'There's somebody at the door,' said Larry, his voice infused with a sing-song quality hitherto unheard beyond the vocal chords of Heaven's own angelic choristers.
'Was that you or did Charlotte Church, circa 1997, just walk into the room?' said Mick.
'Don't be so bl'm'n stupid,' said Larry. 'Are you gonna answer it or what?'
'I can't,' said Mick.
'Why not?' said Larry.
'Unbeknownst to yon goodself, I have been attending Learn to Stop Eating Black Treacle in Five Easy Steps classes, every Tuesday evening for the last four-and-a-half months.'
'But you don't eat Black Treacle.'
'And I don't want to! Vile, nasty, sticky, evil stuff.'
'I would hardly say Black Treacle is evil.'
'Master Brimble of the Stamp Out Black Treacle Society (UK) would beg to differ.'
'?'
'...'
'So why can't you answer the door?' said Larry.
'Last night's personal hypnosis session went a bit skew-whiff,' said Mick.
'Skew-whiff?'
'I was accidentally hypnotised to never again answer the door on a Wednesday evening between seven and eight PM.'
'That's convenient,' said Larry.
'But true,' said Mick.
'Can't Master Brimble reverse it?'
'He could if he hadn't had the entire works of Judy Blume recited to him the night before.'
'But how--? Oh never mind, I'll get it...'
Larry answered the door. 'Mick...' said he.
'Yes, friend Larry?' said Mick.
'It's your long lost cousin from the hills.'
'Which one?' said Mick.
'Which one?' said Larry to the person at the door.
'Ned,' said that man.
'Ned,' said Larry.
'Ned?' said Mick.
'Ned,' confirmed Ned.
'Yes, Ned,' said Larry.
'Ned!' said Mick.
'Mick?' said Ned, who had just heard Mick saying, 'Ned.'
'Yes, Mick!' said Mick.
'Mick!' said Ned.
'Bernard Manning,' said Larry (by the way of exclamation), as he opened the door, yanked Ned through by the arm, closed the door, then buggered off to the kitchen to make himself a cup of Ovaltine and some cucumber'n'Black Treacle toasties.
Ned walked into the centre of the living room. A description of Ned shall be presented forthwith...
Ned had a beard - a common facial adornment of long lost cousins from hilly regions. It was a fulsome affair, matted with grease and suffused with portions of several weeks' meals, in case of a nuclear holocaust. He also had a big, shapeless coat, a gnarly old stick, a damp and saggy knapsack, a pair of big brown boots (the mud and various types of faeces upon which had so embedded itself into the fabric of such that it was doubtless all that was keeping said items of (loosely speaking) 'foot'-wear together), a thick woolly hat of dark grey hue (in which tiny birds appeared to nest), fingerless gloves that were being kept together by force of will alone, a tin of Fisherman's Friends, some rubber bands, a yo-yo and some kind of small rodent which he kept in various pockets and pouches of his attire. He thrust out his hand to shake Mick's and the rodent popped its furry little head out of his sleeve.
'Oops,' said Ned (in a gruff'n'grizzly voice that was indicative of eating too many pine cones and smoking too many home-grown herbs).
'What's its name?' said Mick, as Ned jerked the wee furry chap back up his sleeve, then shook Mick's hand.
'What's what's name?' said Ned.
'The rodent's,' said Mick (said creature could now be seen wriggling around under Ned's big, shapeless coat).
'And what particular rodent would that be?' said Ned.
Mick pointed. 'That one,' he said, indicating the wriggling lump, which was now making its way downwards to the trouserial region.
'I know not of the - urk - beast of which you speak.'
'I refer,' said Mick, 'to the one which now appears to be feasting upon yon delicate parts.'
'That's not - eep... hrrf... yak! - a rodent, it's a - snegbot!! - nervous tic.'
'Whatever you say, Ned...'
'... (sneppul!)...'
'Now tell me...'
'... (migfhut!)...'
'What brings you round these...'
'... (gripplecustard!)...'
'Parts?'
Ned flung himself backwards onto the sofa. A squeal and a crunch were heard. The lump stopped wriggling.
'My nervous tic,' said Ned, 'is cured!'
'Hankie?' said Mick, proffering a Gingham square.
'No point,' said Ned.
'Okay,' said Mick.
'In answer to your previous question,' said Ned, 'I am here on behest of the Queen.'
'Elizabeth?' said Mick.
'Titania,' said Ned.
'Titania, the daughter of Titans, as per Ovid's Metamorphoses?'
'No,' said Ned. 'Titania, the Faerie Queen, husband of Oberon, as per Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream.'
'Oberon, the Merovingian sorcerer?' said Mick.
'No,' said Ned. 'You're thinking of Alberich, the otherworldly brother of Merowech, otherwise known as Merowig, the legendary founder of the Merovingian Dynasty and ruler over the Salian Franks in the years after 450.'
'Damn!' said Mick. 'I'm always getting my Oberons and my Alberichs mixed up.'
'So like I said,' said Ned (a little impatiently now), 'I am here on the behest of the Faerie Queen, Titania.'
Mick felt he was meant to say something at this point, so he said... 'Oh?'
Ned continued: 'She has sent me here with a message.'
'Sounds fun,' said Mick. 'So what is this message you have been sent from the legendary Queen of the Little People?'
'The "Little People,' said Ned, 'are leprechauns.'
'My mistake,' said Mick; 'faeries, then.'
'The message I have been sent is thus...'
Mick raised his eyebrows.
'Just a moment...' said Ned, as he got out his mobile phone (a Motorola C975, which he had bought from Savers for only £34.99, including £30 credit - bargain!).
Mick crossed his arms.
Ned continued: 'She sent it by text, I'll be just a sec...' - he clicked through various menus. 'Ahh, here we are...' (by which point Mick was tapping his foot and drumming his fingers on his arm, like he had seen Bugs Bunny do once) 'It says... go 2 hs of yr cuz Mk + tl hm 2 go wiv U2 yr plc in the hls. Thn aw8t fthr instrctns. Luv Titania (QOF) x.'
'That's it?' said Mick.
'That's it,' said Ned.
'And that was from Titania, wife of Oberon, Queen of the Faeries.'
'The very same.'
'I better get my coat then.'
And so he did.

2. "Beef Tea"

'Where's your horse'n'carriage?'
'I traded it in for a Sinclair C5.'
'So what am I supposed to travel in?'
Ned indicated one of those electric scooter-type jobbies, which don't go more than about eight miles an hour.
'Brill,' said Mick.
Ned got in his C5 and Mick straddled his scooter, and off they trundled.
It was a long and arduous journey. Thankfully, though, the hills in question, wherein Ned's abode was situated, were not the Appalachians or somesuch gubbins, but the Malverns, which were only about ten or so miles up the road. So it wasn't that long and arduous a journey. It felt like it, though, what with the modes of transport being little more than remote control buggies without the remote controls.
'Here we are,' said Ned, as he pulled up by a hut, in a woody glade, half way up a hill, a couple of minutes from town.
Mick brought his electric scooter to a screeching halt (or so he would like to think).
'All this time you have been "long lost,' said Mick, 'and you only live ten miles or so up the road.'
'It's a small world,' said Ned.
'Is it?' said Mick.
'Not really,' said Ned. 'Come on, let's go and have a mug of beef tea.'
'Rightey-ho,' said Mick.
And so they did.
Over beef tea and a shared bowl of chopped mushrooms, they discussed Ned's acquaintance with the Fairyfolk.
'They're pretty normal, down-to-earth people, when you get to know them,' said Ned. 'Apart from when they're flying around, casting spells and stuff, that is.'
Mick nibbled on a mushroom. 'But what about Titania?' he said.
'How did I end up working for her, you mean?' said Ned.
'Yes,' said Mick. He sipped some beef tea.
'Well,' said Ned, 'it all started on a long, hot, summer afternoon...'
Ned related his tale.

3. "Berries (of some sort)"

It all started on a long, hot, summer afternoon... (as these things so often do)... I was in the fields, scything the corn - no, hang on, that wasn't me... I was in the forest, picking berries and scraping bark off the trees, when I heard a sound... It was a sound unlike any sound you have ever heard (unless, that is, you have the 'BBC Mystical Forest Sounds' CD)... It was somewhere between the sound of a million constipated cats and a thousand Robin Reliants trying to get out of a muddy ditch... (well I never said it was a pleasant sound)... After this sound, I saw a light... It was a light unlike--... well you get the picture... It was bright and ethereal and stuff... And all sorts of otherworldly colours... It came out of everywhere and yet nowhere... It came out of the trees, out of the sky, out of the earth... I swear, it even seemed to come out of my knapsack and the basket of berries in my hands... Weird, eh?... So there was this sound and this light, and it freaked me out, let me tell you... I didn't quite vacate my bowels, but I think I did a little tinkle in my underpants... (well you did ask... You didn't?... I'll carry on then)... And then, after the sound and after the light, all was still... eerily still... No breeze, no birdsong, not even the scurry of insects in the undergrowth... (although I did hear my heart beating furiously in my chest)... This stillness, and its accompanying preternatural silence, seemed to last an eternity... (actually I think it was about twelve seconds, but 'eternity' sounds better, doesn't it?)... And then a creature came out of nowhere... Well I say nowhere, it actually seemed to come through a door... No, not a door... curtains... Bead curtains... Like those naff, plastic ones you got in the seventies... Yes, that was it... Only the beads were made out of air; and they shimmered and tinkled as he pushed them aside... I presume it was a 'he'... Come to think of it, I'm not sure now... Well anyway... He (I'll call him 'he' for the sake of argument) pushed aside the 'bead' curtains, walked through - I have to say, stumbled through; he did seem somewhat the worse for drink... tripped over a twig and fell, with a wince-inducing thud, at my feet...
I winced.
'Bugger,' said the creature.
It/he was, I suppose, an elf. He was generally human-shaped, but shrunk, so it seemed, in the wash; with the obligatory pointy ears, long blonde (okay, golden) hair, a very thin and high-cheekboned face, and no discernible features which could distinguish him (/her/it) as male or female. Hence my gender discernment issues.
So up he got, rubbed his bruised bonce and said...
'You Ned?'
(He was dressed in the usual elvish attire, by the way: green jerkin, red pantaloons, pointy shoes with bells on - more a Christmas elf than a Lord of the Rings elf)
'Y-y-y-' I managed to say.
'You wanna job?' said the elf.
'W-w-w-' I said.
'Meet me here at midnight of the next full moon' - he started to retreat back through the 'bead' curtains - 'and don't forget your CV!' - and with a tinkle of fairydust, he was gone.

4. "Mushrooms"

'That's a lot of tinkles,' said Mick.
'That's elves for you,' said Ned.
'Is it?'
'Not really.'
'So what happened next then?'
'We met at the full moon, there was an interview, I got the job - General Dogsbody for Titania the Faerie Queen.'
'But why did they give the job to you?'
'Dunno really, didn't think about it. Suppose 'cause I'm usually so off my head on something, I find it easy to believe in elves'n'stuff.'
Mick looked at the bit of mushroom he was about to put in his gob.
'Don't worry, they're only mildly hallucinogenic,' said Ned reassuringly (or not).
Mick put the mushroom down and took a sip of beef tea.
'That's it, get the "beef tea down you,' said Ned; 'you'll be needing it for what's going to happen next.'
'What's going to happen n--'
And then it all happened.

5. "FairyJuice"

Actually, nothing much happened - Queen Titania knocked on the door, Ned let her in, then she sat at the table at which Mick and Ned had been eating chopped mushrooms and supping 'beef' tea.
'You still living in this dump?' was the first thing she said, as she got a hip flask out of a pocket of her tracky bottoms.
'Want some "beef tea?' said Ned, as he stirred the pan on the stove.
'Never touch the stuff,' said Queen Titania. Then she upturned her hip flask and downed the contents in a single gulp - a pretty amazing feat by anyone's standards. As she did so, Mick was aware that the casing of the flask was shimmering rainbow colours and the liquid which poured forth was nothing more or less than pure light.
Titania noticed the slack-jawed look she was receiving from the human. 'Vodka,' she said; 'Tesco's own. Unless you've been on Ned Grumbleworthy's famous "beef tea and mushrooms, that is; in which case, it's pure, distilled FairyJuice.'
'Fairy? Juice?' said Mick, who jaw was still slack and whose head was feeling decidedly light.
'Is this he?' said Titania to Ned.
'This is he,' said Ned to Titania.
'Goddess help us,' said Titania. 'Okay, here's what I want you to do...'
Titania explained what she wanted Ned and Mick to do.
Before we go into that, however, what about a bit of a description of The Queen of the Fairyfolk? Thus...
She was not what Mick had expected. She wore tracky bottoms for starters. She also wore a dirty white vest and had greasy, matted, dyed-blonde hair. She wasn't bad looking, though, for all that. In a fag-smoking, tea-drinking, Eastenders-watching, council estate chavette kind of a way. It was unclear what she was wearing on her feet.
'Those fucking hobbits,' said Titania, as she lit up an L&M (which looked to Mick like the biggest, most colourful and most sparkliest sparkler he had ever seen), 'have got their feet in a tangle again.'
'Hobbits,' said Mick, 'are real?'
'Where did you find this idiot?' said Titania.
'He's my cousin Mick from the city,' said Ned.
'Whatever,' said Titania, taking a drag on her ciggie. 'Like I said, the hobbits are all tits over arse, complaining about something or other and I want it sorted. You up to the challenge, Ned?'
'I shall serve you graciously and with valour, my queen.'
'I don't want some fucking furry-footed free-for-all or somesuch bollocks,' said Titania. 'Not like those fucking Gnome riots of '96. Gave me ulcers for weeks, that one did.'
('Gnomes?' said Mick.)
'Don't let me down, Ned,' said Titania, as she dropped her smouldering butt in the dribble of 'beef' tea in the bottom of Mick's mug. 'I want those stunty bastards silenced once and for all.'
'Your wish is my--'
'Whatever... Where's the TV?'
'TV? Wh--?'
'The TV, Ned! Where the bollockin' hell is it?'
'I d--'
'Christ, don't tell me you don't have one. What is the world coming to, when you don't have a TV? I've got seventy-two hours of Big Brother to catch up on!'
'Sorry, I--'
'Never mind, I've got to get back and feed the cats, anyway.' She stood up and put another L&M in her mouth. 'You will sort those hobbits out for me, won't you?'
'My eternal and devout--'
'Whatever,' said Titania, as she lit up her ciggie ('Ooooooh,' said Mick). 'You gonna give me a lift home then, or what?'

6. "Saffron Cake"

The hobbits were livid.
Trimble Turtletips sat on his beanbag, sucking on a pipe, supping green tea and picking bits from between his toes.
Not that livid then.
'So what are we going to do about it?' said Gumby Happyhat, as he lay on the floor, staring up at the swirls of green pipesmoke which were collecting at the ceiling, forming all kinds of interesting shapes.
'About what?' said Trimble Turtletips. 'Got it!' - he yanked something out of his toe-hair, rolled it into a ball and flicked it into the fire; there was a small explosion, a crackle, then a hissing, which lasted about forty-two seconds.
'The casino,' said Trimble Turtletips. He pointed upwards... 'Don't you think that bit of smoke there looks like a goblin on a spacehopper playing a ukulele?'
'I think,' said Miffin Boggallott, as he sat in a dark corner on a wooden chair, playing WarioWare on his Nintendo DS, 'it looks like a pixie with a pumpkin up its bottom.'
'Spiced ale'n'saffron cake?' said Ginna Bubblewit (wife of Bombim Bubblewit, who was also in the room, but hasn't been mentioned yet), as she entered the room, carrying a large tray of the aforementioned goodies.
'Not yet, thank you, petal,' said Bombim Bubblewit (who was sitting on the floor, doing nothing in particular). 'We're just discussing what to do about the proposed plans to bulldoze our lovely village and build a casino in its place.'
'You won't get into any trouble, will you, my love?' said Ginna Bubblewit.
'Hopefully not too much, my sweet,' said Bombim Bubblewit; 'but we have to stand up for what we believe in.'
'Well I'll just put these jugs of warm spiced ale and thick, moist slices of fresh-out-of-the-oven saffron cake on the table here' - Ginna Bubblewit did so - 'and you boys can help yourself whenever you like.' She gave a little curtsy and the sweetest of smiles, then left the room.
'Now about this casino...' said Bombim Bubblewit.
'I think we might be due a break...' said Trimble Turtletips.
'I could certainly find room for some saffron cake...' said Gumby Happyhat.
'And my innards would not protest at being warmed by some spiced ale...' said Miffin Boggallott.
'Shall we take a break?' said Bombim Bubblewit.
They all agreed that they should.

7. "Peas"

'I don't understand what she wants me for.'
'I think she thinks you'll relate to the hobbits.'
'But I'm not four-foot-nothing with furry feet.'
'You'll see what I mean.'

8. "Doughnuts"

Mick was not sure how they got there, because it was not a village he had seen on any map. But they did. It was exactly as it had been in Lord of the Rings: little round-doored dwellings, dug into the sides of grassy knolls, with swirls of woodsmoke rising gently from the chimneys. Except it was ever so slightly different, due to the satellite dishes, the sounds of TV's and PlayStations emanating from the quaint little abodes and the hobbit teenagers hanging about, frantically texting and showing off their latest ringtones and 'hilarious' comedy clips on their mobile phones.
'What do we do now then?' said Mick, as they parked their vehicles beside one of the few trees at which a goat was not tethered.
'We find the ringleader,' said Ned, 'and we convince him of the error of his ways.'
'I have problems with this,' said Mick.
'Of what sort?' said Ned.
'I feel that perhaps they are right in not wanting a casino in the middle of their village.'
'Do you doubt the Wisdom of the Queen of Faerie?'
'Well... to be honest... yes.'
'Mick!' - Ned crouched, widened his eyes and frantically looked from left to right, like they do in cartoons and low budget spy films - 'What you are saying is tantamount to blasphemy!'
'I can't help it,' said Mick. 'It's the way I feel.'
'Come,' said Ned, as he firmly took hold of Mick's arm; 'let us go and talk to the hobbits. Maybe then you will see why their dastardly plans must be quashed.'
'Okay,' said Mick, who was not convinced, but went with Ned nonetheless.
They got a few funny looks as they walked through the hobbit village; not surprising, since they were at least two foot taller than most of its inhabitants.
'Do they not see many humans?' said Mick under his breath.
'They've probably never seen a human in their life,' said Ned. 'They probably think we're overgrown elves with clipped ears.'
'But isn't Gandalf a human?' said Mick.
'Gandalf,' said Ned, 'does not exist. Gandalf has never existed. He is a human character in a book written by a human, which was made into a film by humans, set in a world that does not exist, where things happen that have never happened. There are no humans in Faerie.'
'I see,' said Mick - who really didn't (he was now wondering which road they had taken out of Malvern to end up in Faerie).
Ned rolled his eyes. 'Honestly, you people,' he said, 'are obsessed with Lord of the flippin' Rings. "One ring to rule them all"... one poxy little ring! What a load of old cobblers.'
' "You people"?' said Mick. 'It wasn't so long ago that--'
'Here we are,' said Ned, as he pointed out a quaint little round-doored hobbity dwelling, which was much the same as all the rest. 'Off you go then.'
'Eh?' said Mick.
'Go and knock on the door. I'll stand over here and look menacing.'
'But--'
'You're not afraid of a few stunty-arsed hobbits, are you? Just knock on the door...'
Mick did so - that is to say, he lifted the index finger of his right hand and he practically stroked the door, as if he was massaging a fly.
'Oh for Thor's sake...' said Ned; 'here' - he shoved Mick aside, hammered his gnarly old stick against the wood and boomed (in, if you recall, his gruff'n'grizzly voice that was indicative of eating too many pine cones and smoking too many home-grown herbs), 'Open up, you vertically challenged, unnaturally hirsute trolls!'
'We're not trolls!' said a voice on the other side of the door. 'We're hobbits! And we won't stand for any bullying, not by you or anyone else at Wyrd & Co. Construction!'
'I'm not from Wyrd & Co. Construction!' said Ned. 'I work for the Queen!'
'Elizabeth?' said the voice.
'Titania,' said Ned.
'Titania, the daughter of Titans, as per Ovid's Metamorphoses?'
'No!' said Ned. 'Titania, the Faerie Queen, husband of Oberon, as per Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream!'
'Oberon, the Meroving--'
'Shut it!' said Ned. 'You know very well which queen I mean! Now open up or incur the wrath of Her Divine Majesty!'
There was a pause, a bit of mumbling and rustling and such, then the voice said...
'Oh alright then...'
... and opened the door.
A hobbit stood there. He wore a hat. It was floppy and a little pointy, like that of a wizard who has fallen on bad times. Under his hat was curly red hair. He also wore khaki dungarees and a skyblue t-shirt. Out from the bottom of his dungarees sprouted his size twelve feet of fulsome fur. He didn't look very menacing. He did, however, make a stirling effort to contort the muscles of his chubby-cheeked face into a scowl. He wasn't that successful.
'Who are you?' said Ned.
'I am Bombim Bubblewit,' said the hobbit, 'leader of the resistance.'
'And what "resistance" would that be?' said Ned, who towered (with his big shapeless coat, his big brown boots, his big beard and so on) over the trembling little fellow.
'The resistance,' said Bombim Bubblewit, 'against Wyrd & Co. Construction and its evil employers, with its evil plans to bulldoze our humble little village to make way for a... erm... evil... casino.'
'Is that so?' said Ned.
'Erm...'
Ned bonked the hobbit on the head, who promptly collapsed in a heap in the doorway. He stepped over the body and indicated for Mick to do so also.
Mick followed Ned. 'I abhor violence,' he said.
'Then do as you are told,' said Ned, 'or you will become more closely acquainted with it.'
Ned and Mick walked into the house of Bombim Bubblewit.

9. "Liquorice"

'So you see,' said Mick around a gobful of saffron cake, while Ginna Bubblewit nursed her husband Bombim back to consciousness, 'it would seem that there is nothing you can do to stop these plans to build a casino... this saffron cake is delightful! Would you have a recipe?'
'I would, Mr Mastodon,' said Ginna; 'it is one which has been passed down through generations of Bubblewits.'
'How marvellous!' declared Mick.
'You carry on,' said Ginna Bubblewit, 'and I shall fetch you the recipe...'
'Splendid!' said Mick. 'Where was I? Oh yes... And you might as well just accept it and get jobs as croupiers or something.'
'But we are hobbits!' said Trimble Turtletips. 'We were born for better things than being croupiers!'
'Like what?' said Ned, who was slouched in the corner, whittling on his gnarly old stick.
'Like erm...' - Trimble Turtletips turned to Gumby Happyhat.
'Fighting dragons?' suggested Gumby.
'Yes, fighting dragons!' said Trimble. 'And erm...'
'Taking rings to fiery mountaintops?' suggested Miffin Boggallott.
'Yes, taking r--'
'That didn't happen!' said Ned, as he slammed his stick down on the ground, in a Nanny McPhee sort of way. 'The bravest thing you lot have ever done in real life is tie your own shoelaces! Except, of course, you haven't, because you can't even get shoes to fit over your stupid furry--'
'Come on, Ned, there's no need to get personal,' said Mick.
'And as for "fighting dragons... you couldn't even fight a dragonfly!'
'Ned...'
Ned looked at Mick.
Mick gave Ned a look.
Ned grunted and grumbled and reluctantly sat back in his chair.
'And,' continued Mick, 'it wouldn't be so bad, being croupiers. It's a good wage, glamorous, and you'd get free tokens for the fruit machines.'
'Would we?' said Gumby Happyhat.
'Would they?' said Mick to Ned.
'Maybe,' said Ned.
'You see?' said Mick. 'And the world loves a hobbit croupier.'
'Really?' said Miffin Boggallott.
'There's nothing more prestigious,' said Mick. 'They'd be flocking from miles around to see the Famous Hobbit Croupiers of... (what's this place called?),' he whispered to Ned.
'Hobbittown,' said Ned.
'(Like in Lord of the Rings?)'
'No, that was "Hobbiton".'
'(Nearly the same, though)'
'Get on with it.'
'(Okay)... of Hobbittown!'
'That doesn't sound so bad,' said Trimble Turtletips.
'I could live with that,' said Gumby Happyhat.
'I've always wanted to be famous,' said Miffin Boggallott.
'Here's that recipe,' said Ginna Bubblewit.
'Wh-wh-wh-wh-... ow!' said Bombim Bubblewit, who woke to discover that his head still hurt.
'So you see?' said Mick. 'Bulldozing your sleepy little village to make way for a big, noisy and morally questionable casino isn't such a bad idea after all.'

10. "Happytoast"

'Job well done there,' said Ned, as he and Mick sat in his hut, drinking more 'beef' tea and eating what Ned referred to as happytoast; 'the Queen will be pleased.'
'I feel soiled,' said Mick.
'I thought you were a bit whiffy.'
'Not like that, Ned. Morally. I have betrayed my innermost convictions on how man should treat his fellow man.'
'They're not men, they're hobbits.'
'What exactly have you got against hobbits, Ned?'
'Oh nothing much. Just the fact that they've vile, smelly, ignorant, stupid, lazy, short... oh, and funny-looking.'
' "Funny-looking?' said Mick, taking in Ned's skanky beard, his shapeless coat, his saggy knapsack, his shitty boots and his shabby hat. 'You can ta--'
Mick became more closely acquainted with Ned's gnarly old stick.

11. "Smarties"

'How was your day with Ned, your long lost cousin from the hills?' said Larry.
'Same old,' said Mick. 'He took me to his hut in the woods, we shared beef tea and chopped mushrooms, met Titania the Faerie Queen, convinced some hobbits that they really did want their village bulldozed to make way for a casino, had some more beef tea and "happytoast, got knocked unconscious with a gnarly old stick, then somehow ended up back here.'
'Fab,' said Larry. 'Fancy a game of tiddlywinks?'
'Why the heck not?' said Mick.
And so they did.

[ fin ]