Yyerg pressed an array of buttons beside the hatch and turned a key. The lights on the main control panel blazed into life and a faint whine began. The whine slowly increased in pitch until it was a steady hum that filled the cabin.
"Brilliant!" exclaimed Gerald, slapping Yyerg on the back. "You can leave!"
"No I can't", said Yyerg sadly. "Romola has the coil for the spatial inverter. Without it the ship won't have enough power to leave your atmosphere."
"The thing that looks like an egg boiler?"
"No, that IS an egg boiler."
"The thing that looks like a vibrator?"
"No, that's her sex toy." said Yyerg bitterly. "If I'd known that's all it was when I crashed we wouldn't be in this mess."
"What then?"
"It's made of metal wound round a solid core."
"Her coil?"
"If that's what she's been hiding in panties— yes."
"I have it here", said Gerald, she asked me to give it to you after the police left."
Yyerg hung his head. "I've been so cruel to her..."
"No you haven't. You made her and a lot of her friends very happy for a while. None of us could have known this would happen. We were all a bit off our heads. I'm sure she's forgiven you for leaving her tied up all night with her vibrator up her bottom."
"I — I wish I could tell her that..."
"You can — she's outside."
Yyerg spun round and flicked a switch. Romola's pretty face smiled back at him from the vidscreen.
He opened the hatch and trembled as she took him in her arms and kissed him tenderly on the cheek.
"Chocolate will never taste the same without you, Yyerg."
Tears gathered in the alien's big yellow eyes. "Promise me you'll destroy the formula."
"Oh — you know about that, do you?"
"Yess... Sophie told me."
"If you promise not to get abducted by anyone but me."
"I'll try..."

"Give me those glasses!" barked Inspector Plodder, crouching down behind a rose bush.
"Dammit! I knew the bouncy castle was a bloody fake. Did you see it? Four long arms and those enormous great—"
"Yes, I saw it, Sir", said WPC French, "The point is what are we going to do about it?"
"Do about it?" repeated Plodder, savagely. "I've got thirty armed men in these woods and five patrol cars. We're going to bust the fucking lot of them, that's what we're going to do, constable!"
"Aren't you forgetting something, Sir?" asked Boddington, fingering the trigger of the semi-automatic weapon cradled in his arms.
"Like what?"
"If it can change that ship into a bouncy castle what's to stop it changing it into a challenger tank, or a whole battery of missile launchers?"
"Because that pillock Bolton told me they're just illusions. They're not real, you idiot!"
"How can you be sure he was telling the truth?" persisted Boddington.
"Because the alien is a spineless piece of shit, that's why. If he had any bloody weapons don't you think he would have used them by now?"
"Well — yes, there is that..." admitted Boddington.
"Idiot!" grunted Plodder. "Take Smith and Jones with you and get into position behind those trees."
"And me, Sir?" asked WPC French.
"You'll be leading the attack, constable. When I give the signal I want you to make a frontal assault with everything you've got."
"And if the woman or her boyfriend get in the way?"
"Shoot the fuckers!" snarled Plodder.
WPC French fought down the excitement gathering between her legs and passed on the inspector's orders to her team. She was really going to enjoy splattering that posh tart's arse all over the clearing.

"What're they doing now?" asked Romola, slipping her arm around Gerald's waist.
"Plodder is still behind the rose bush. The charming Ms French is about fifty yards away with ten big lads armed to the teeth and Boddington is trying to sneak up behind us with a mortar."
"Don't turn it off until we're in the spinney,Yyerg — OK?" said Romola.
Yyerg nodded and moved to the control panel. Romola kissed him and held Gerald's hand while the alien turned a dial.

"Did you see that?" whispered Plodder.
"See what, Sir?"
"Those rabbits that just crossed in front us."
"This IS the country, Sir."
"I don't trust that fucking pair. Shoot them!"
"It's too late, Sir, they've run into the spinney."
WPC French swore as the saucer rose slowly into the air, wobbling like a leaf in a gale. It staggered on through the treetops, making a deafening racket like a very big chainsaw in the hands of a clinically depressed Texan who really hates trees. She felt a blinding pain between her legs and knew no more.
"Bugger!" muttered a gentleman who was relieving himself behind a tree, "Not AGAIN!" and ruined another pair of perfectly good cavalry twills.
By one of those curious coincidences 'Bugger' was exactly what Inspector Plodder said when the UFO passed over his head, though it does not begin to convey the anguish, rage and frustration that he was experiencing at the exact instant Romola's desire was fulfilled in Gerald's arms.
Oh Gerald, my darling...I love you so much..."
"Oh Romolaaa!"

A shadow fell over them in the lumbering form of Inspector Plodder "You're nicked! he rasped.
"What have we done this time?" asked Romola, making no attempt to cover her naked breasts.
"Gross Indecency for starters," said Plodder.
"Sex in a public place," added Boddington, eyeing the panties lying in the grass.
"I think you'll find this part of the common is private property," said Gerald, settling himself more comfortably between Romola's silken thighs. If you don't believe me, ask the owner."
The policemen's heads swiveled round.
"Good afternoon, officers", said a smartly dressed middle-aged man, stepping out from Romola's BMW. "Can I offer you a glass of chilled Chablis?"
"Not while we're on the job, Sir," said Boddington.
"That's when I enjoy it the most," giggled Romola.
"May I ask who you are?" asked Plodder.
"You don't recognise me without my regalia, then, inspector?"
"Er — no, Sir..."
"I'm Romola's father — Henry Spencer."
"Good grief! The Lord Lieutenant!"
"And the owner of these woods, inspector."
"I, we, er, we had no idea, Sir..." stammered Boddington.
"Just a minute," said Plodder. "Don't you mind your daughter lying naked in a wood in broad daylight in the arms of a certified lunatic?"
"Lunatic, officer?"
"Didn't you know that Mr Bolton is a patient at Purley mental hospital, Sir?"
"Was, inspector. He was discharged last week and married my daughter yesterday."

The two police officers were rooted to the spot in open-mouthed amazement.
"Now we're really fucked," said Boddington.
"No — I'm fucked," replied Plodder, "My career is ruined."
"Perhaps you should argue about who fucked whom after you have removed the rather large rose bush from the bottom of that unfortunate female police officer I can see over there. I imagine it's rather painful, inspector," said Romola's father.

THE END