Girls On Film.

Oddly, this doesn't involve an 80's pop group of immaculate grooming, but rather is the next stage in the saga of Hangover Hall. There is a saxophone solo, though.

          Diana dropped her case with a loud thump on the gravel. The running policeman, still honking wildly, came hurtling towards her. She could see that he had his eyes closed in rapt concentration. Vaguely, in amongst the atonal squawking, she thought she could make out a tune: 'I Can't Give You Anything But Love, Baby'. She found herself begin to hum it, still rooted to the spot as the policeman came closer and closer.

          It's a dream, she thought. It must be.

          He was only a couple of feet away when he opened his eyes, still playing. She could see the expression change to sheer amazement at this obstruction in his path...

          The policeman dug the heels of his sensible boots into the gravel, skidding to a halt. The saxophone flew out to one side as he flung his arms wide, attempting to retain his balance. His mouth popped open in a soundless cry.

          Although it was only a couple of feet, it seemed to take forever for him to reach her: Diana closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact.

          Instead, there was nothing but the sound of one large policeman and one saxophone hitting the gravel. She opened her eyes as the sound died away. He was at her feet, smiling up at her.

          'Hello,' he said in heavily accented English. 'My name is Hugo. How do you do?'

*

          Strange things were afoot in the wine cellar of Hangover Hall. The gateway to the null zone was hidden away in an alcove, behind a rack of cheap Belgian wine.

          'I didn't know they made wine in Belgium,' Sir George had remarked absently when Arthur had installed it in the current position.

          'They don't - at least, not very good wine, sir, ' Arthur replied. Sir George trusted his opinion on wine: Arthur was a man of hidden talents.

          'Then why...' the question died away as Sir George gestured airily at the stack of bottles.

          Arthur sighed. 'Considering what is behind the rack, sir, I thought it best not to risk any of the good wine.'

          Although Sir George had one of the finest cellars in Britain, he couldn't tell the difference between the finest red and a bottle of surgical alcohol. However, even with this difficulty he could see Arthur's point.

          He nodded sagely, and nothing more was said on the matter.

          And now two humanoid creatures sat in the corner of the cellar, bemoaning their fate. Storm tossed on the seas of time and space they had found themselves washed up in an English country house.

          'I wouldn't mind,' said one - tall and thin, with blue tinged skin and three arms gesturing freely, 'but I only popped out for a pint of milk. There was this shimmering haze at the bottom of the alley, and I thought I'd take a look. So, I gets there and whoosh - here I am stuck here. It's not fair. My wife will kill me when I get home.' He rested his chin on one hand and clasped the other two.

          The small furry creature next to him nodded sagely as it polished its sword. 'I know exactly what you mean old son,' it said in a guttural tone. 'I was looking for a way to leap from Adair to Quizcoatl VI. Y'know, a way to skip the boring bits of space travel. See, they've got a war there, but I didn't fancy going by spaceship.'

          'Why not?' asked the blue guy, momentarily distracted from his own problems.

          'Have you ever been on a mercenary ship?' asked the hairy thing. He looked at the blue guy closely. 'Nah, probably not. Anyway, the food is always awful, the facilities are less than primitive, and all those old mercenary songs - if I ever hear species-ist rubbish like 'Eskimo Nell' again, it'll be too soon.

          'Anyway, I had this little thing I got off a bloke in a bar back home - 'get you anywhere', he said. Bloody right, wasn't he? It did get me anywhere - anywhere other than where I wanted to go.'

          The blue guy shifted uneasily. 'I'll tell you what's really worrying me, though...'

          'What?'

          'How come we can understand each other? I mean, I don't even know where you come from, and the chances of two languages in the universe being the same - well, the odds must be astronomical.'

          The hairy thing stopped polishing his sword, and looked pensive - or, at least, as pensive as it was possible to look when he was covered in hair.

          'That's a good point. And it’s the same as they speak here…’

          Any further conversation was cut short by a crackling that came from behind the wine rack.

          'Aye, aye, some other poor devil got caught, I see,' muttered the hairy thing. The blue guy nodded sadly.

          A curious white and yellow light pervaded the area behind the Belgian wine, and the air hummed and crackled with static. The noise and the light built rapidly to a high intensity before exploding with a loud bang. Arnold was flung through the gap between the null zone and Hangover Hall, landing with a loud thwack on the cellar floor.

          He sat up and shook his head, trying to clear it. Xdance had told him it would be a rough ride, but he hadn't bargained on anything quite like this. For one thing, the old man had said nothing about the illusions and hallucinations. As an instance, right in front of him was a three-armed blue guy and a hairy thing. And they were smiling.

          'Alright, son?' The blue guy waved at him with his middle arm. 'You get caught as well?'

          Arnold picked himself up and started to dust down his suit. 'Uh, no... I'm supposed to arrive here - I think. This is Hangover Hall, right?'

          The hairy thing shrugged amiably. At least it seemed amiable enough. 'I wouldn’t know. I call it “aaargh where am I?” as that’s how I remember arriving.'

          'Me too,' added the blue guy. 'There's a coincidence. Anyway, there’s a lot of people about look like you,' he continued in what he hoped was a helpful manner.

          'Thanks,' said Arnold as he smoothed back his hair. 'I suppose it must be right.' He walked towards the cellar steps with as much dignity as he could muster. Then he stopped and turned. 'I suppose this is the - uh - '

          Gesturing with the middle of his three arms, the blue guy said: 'Just up the steps and through the door. Leads out to the main bit of the building. Transvaal, we call it. Don't know what you call it.'

          'Right, thanks,' Arnold called as he hurried up the stairs. They both watched him with interest.

          'Funny,' said the hairy thing after a pause for thought, 'we call that part of the building the transexx.'

          'That's interesting, isn't it?' said the blue guy. 'Quite a coincidence...'

          'Hmm...' There was another moment of silence. The hairy thing shuffled in his seat. 'Tell you what, though: I wouldn't like to calculate the odds on his planet having the same language as well.'

          'Astronomical...'

*

          Diana helped Hugo to his feet. The policeman brushed himself down, tipped the gravel out of his helmet, put it back on his head, and picked up his saxophone, examining it for dents.

          'You must excuse me,' he said in broken English, 'but when I play, I get taken away with it all, and not know where I am going.'

          He smiled disarmingly, strong white teeth showing through his short beard and heavy moustache.

          'But why on earth why you were running around like a maniac?'

          He shrugged. 'Mister Cedric asked me to. He is supposed to be filming me, but where he goes to...' He shrugged and smiled again.

          Diana made to pick up her case, but the strong arm of the law prevented her. 'Please,' he said, 'allow me.'

          As they walked across the gravel towards the huge oak doors, he asked her what she was doing at the Hall. Taken by his open smile and friendly manner, Diana explained about her earlier job difficulties, and how the job with Sir George was her last chance to really get on.

          'I don't think anyone else will have me if I mess this one up.'

          'But what is wrong with hitting men who try to take liberties?' asked the confused Constable.

          'Nothing at all... as long as you're not working for them at the time,' she said bitterly.

          Hugo pondered on this for a second.

          'I think that, as long as I stay here, I shall never quite grasp what makes people act so silly,' he said quietly. Then, in a louder tone: 'Now then - I don't know your name: how rude of me.'

          'It's Diana - don't worry.' But she said it in a rush of words.

          Hugo shrugged. 'Okay, Diana Dontworry, you wait here while I find Sir George, or Arthur, or somebody.'

          He smiled again, and before she could say anything he was gone through a door.

          Little did she know that their every word had been overheard by Arnold, who had just come up from the cellar.

          'Secretary, eh? What a good cover.'

          He was glad Xdance had made him read that manual on spying.