Captain Wozzo stirred.
Cursed row, he mumbled half asleep
must be the ray guns of the Molunsavory tribe, I shall take
cover.
So mumbling, he dived nimbly to the left,
floated majestically through the air and landed, not in the least bit
majestically on the floor beside his bunk.
Mrs Captain Wozzo, who was used to this sort
of thing, arrived with his morning cup of tea as he was getting up.
Blast that clock. Why does it have to
whistle like that? It should have a bell like any other alarm clock.
Yes dear said Mrs Captain Wozzo,
thinking it better not to mention the fact that the Captain had only had it
changed last week because he used to think that the old bell was a fire engine
and tried to jump out of the way.
Heres the post, theres one
marked Top Secret Confidential and for the personal attention of Captain
Wozzo, Inter-Galactic Crime Fighter. I think its for you.
Aha, no doubt another mission of
Earth-shattering import cried the Captain tearing at the envelope with
his bare teeth, or at least he would have if hed remembered to put them
in. As it was, they were still in a mug in the bathroom.
Eventually, with the aid of various unsuitable
tools the all important envelope was opened and the contents extracted. The
Captain read the message:
To my dearest little boy on his 5th
birthday it said, with a picture of a 1926 Rolls-Royce on the front.
I dont understand said the
Captain scratching his head with a bradawl.
Ah! Isnt that nice, it must be
from your dad! Exclaimed Mrs Captain Wozzo.
The Captain wasnt impressed. My
dad wouldnt have sent me a picture of a 1926 Rolls-Royce, he knows I
prefer old Citroens. Anyway were forgetting one important
point.
Whats that dear? Asked Mrs
Captain Wozzo (I-G C F) as she poured the milk on the Captains Space
Oatie Galactic Scrunchies (SOGS for short).
This card is 40 years out of
date!
Dear dear, the post has really gone to
pot since you computerised the pillar-boxes.
No.. I see whats happened, the
card says With love from uncle Wodger Wobinson on the back.
Its from the prime-minister, he must have got his envelopes mixed up.
Its easily done you know. Remember
when I sent some of my patent hair remover to the bearded lady at Fozzlewerts
Circus and my hair restorer to Yul Brynner when I was on that unfortunate
Hair-Salon case?
No
Caused no end of fuss you know, I
remember a similar problem when the Artwinkle of Splat ran over the foot of the
..
At that moment the Captains
international hot line warning alarm sounded (that means his telephone rang,
which is probably just as well as things were getting a bit boring).
Hello Spozzo weaking.. err.. no I mean
Wozzo spea..
Oh belt-up Wozzo, look, its the
P.M. here, did you get my message?
Yes sir, but its not my birthday
till next month.
Eh what? What are you bumbling
about?.
I think you mustve sent me the
wrong message sir, and could I have a vintage Citroen next time
please?
The P.M. sputtered, Good grief Wozzo,
this is tewibble, it means that my top secwet confidential message has been
sent off into the blue, pwobably to fall into the unscwupulous hands of enemy
agents who would stop at nothing to
oh. Half a mo, Ive just found
it in the waste-paper bin. Now look Wozzo, the gist of the thing is this. Our
chappies at the observatowy have obsewved a suspicious looking UFO heading
towards Austwalia and New Zealand. I think theyre up to no good, and you
wealise what that could mean?.. No more New Zealand butter and Austwalian wine!
So get out there Wozzo and do your duty!
I am at you service sir said our
brave hero as he clicked his heels and saluted, thus treading on the cat and
dropping the telephone all at once.
Good man came the P.M.s voice from
the floor and he rang off.
This is a great challenge Jemimah
the Captain said as he pulled on his Captain Wozzo cape and his Captain Wozzo
go-faster winged boots.
I shall once again rescue the human race
from a fate worse than death, just as I did when I closed down Radio
1.
Will you be back for tea dear?
Enquired Mrs Captain Wozzo.
No my dear, I am off to save the
world!
So saying, the brave Captain picked up his
electronic briefcase, rushed into the broom cupboard and fell over the cat who
was hiding in there.
Bother! he muttered wrong
door again, untangled himself from the vacuum cleaner hose pipe, left the
cupboard and went out of the back door to the Wozzo-mobile.
He leaped on board and pedalled like mad
towards the railway station.
Ten minutes later and the Captain was still in
overdrive on the Wozzomobile, aided by his winged boots, when he heard a
strange noise from behind.
He was worried, Have the rotters in
their terrible UFO tracked me down already? He bent low over the
handlebars and accelerated.
Ill show them what Captain W. is
made of! he cried, and almost did by heading straight for the clock tower
at 60mph. If he hit it his innards would surely be splattered all over the
place.
Luckily his Wozzocape chose just that moment
to become caught in the chain which caused the Wozzomobile to veer sharply to
the left.
Crumbobs! That was a close one he
gasped.
Looking ahead he noticed that the road was
full of people just walking about. Stand aside you jaywalkers! he
yelled Im off to save the human race!
Look more like es trying to
kill us. Said Mrs Lidya Dusbin nipping smartly into Marks &
Sparks doorway This is a pedestrianised retail area! she
shouted after the Captain as he careered wildly through the crowds.
And so it was; no cars, lorries buses or bikes
were allowed there between the hours of ever so early and extremely late, and
there was Captain Wozzo causing panic and mayhem by hurtling through at
elevenses time.
The Captain was worried, not by his likely
arrest for various road-traffic offences, but by the continuing strange sounds
that seemed to fill the air around him. Sounds like an electronic
donkey he thought must be produced by square-waves passed though a
series of passive filters thus producing.. at that instant his thoughts
were interrupted by Police cars converging on him as he emerged onto the public
road once more.
Ah good, the police are on to them, but
what they can do without my help I dont know. Ill stop and give
them instructions
The Captain pulled up sharply, utilising his
retro-rockets to decelerate from 60 to zero in 2 seconds, and also to set fire
to the trousers of a bus driver on his tea break quite by accident of
course..
Ullo ullo ullo said a policeman
well if it isnt Batman, what do you think your playin at?
Lost Robin have ya?
No no no! Good gracious! stammered
the distraught Captain. Batman indeed? What an insult. I am the
nations saviour Captain Wozzo!
He looked around, waiting for expressions of
awe and respect to cross the policemens faces. All he actually saw were
expressions of hostility and amusement in almost equal quantities.
Ooh-err he thought this is
the problem with operating in a top-secret environment, nobody recognises
me.
Now then mi-lad said one of the
policemen amongst other offences, you have been exceeding the speed limit
by a considerable amount, driving without due care and attention and you are
now on a one-way street.
But I was only going one way
protested our hero.
Didnt you see the arrows?
asked the policeman.
Arrows? I didnt even see the
archers! quipped the Captain, thinking (wrongly) that perhaps he could
lighten the mood with a joke.
Now I think youd better come along
with us to the station the policeman announced, approaching the Captain
in a determined fashion.
Ah yes he said thats
where I was going.
So saying, he started the Wozzomobile and shot
off backwards having forgotten to disengage his retro-rockets.
Get after him men! commanded a
larger than standard issue policeman with bits of ribbon stuck to his
jacket.
Hes obviously a dangerous lunatic
and hes set fire to constable Wallaces trousers!
With a great clumping of boots, screeching of
tyres and snuffling of dogs, the entire Police force set off in pursuit of
Captain Wozzo, leaving the local criminals with an excellent opportunity to get
up to no good.
Several hours later Captain Wozzo arrived at
the railway station. The several hours had been used partly to disentangle
himself from a bedstead in the ornamental pond in the municipal park (this was
due traveling backwards at a
rather-too-fast-to-be-going-at-all-let-alone-backwards sort of a speed) and
partly to go home and get a change of socks.
The Captain had decided to travel incognito,
and if you think that thats a special sort of train then youre very
silly. He had removed his Wozzo-cape and spats and was now regaled in his
all-purpose inconspicuous-in-every-possible-situation outfit.
This consisted of a bowler hat, in order to be
inconspicuous amongst M.P.s and business men; a clerical collar, in order to be
inconspicuous amongst vicars; a flowery shirt and beads which wouldnt
arouse the suspicion of hippies; an old-Etonian tie for meetings with the upper
crust; an army greatcoat for sneaking into top-secret sort of places in; a kilt
to endear himself to Scotsmen; and a pair of Doctor Scholls sandals on
account of his bunions.
He had often mused upon how terribly
embarrassing it would be if one lost ones train ticket on the train, so
it was not surprising that he was once more lost in thought on the subject when
the man who comes to punch the corner out of tickets came to punch the corner
out of his ticket. The Captain handed him a piece of cardboard which turned out
to be an old railway sandwich and then remembered that he hadnt actually
bought a ticket because he knew a man at the station who would let him through
the barrier for nothing.
Oh dear, how embarrassing muttered
our hero rummaging in his sporran I appear to have, err, um, come without
it.
Come without it have you? said the
man who comes to punch the corner out of tickets well youll just
have to pay double fare or get off at the next station.
The Captain decided that hed have to pay
and pulled out a wad of notes from a secret compartment in his bowler hat.
The man who comes to punch the corner out of
tickets stared in disbelief as was handed three small octagonal notes with a
picture of the Nadir of Wollabazee on each one.
I err.. began the Captain as the
man who comes to punch the corner out of tickets gave him a stern look.
He embarked upon a long explanation about the
current rate of exchange of Wollabazee drakmas which he didnt quite
finish due to a certain amount of unpleasantness culminating in him being left
hanging on one of the special things that used to catch mail bags beside the
railway line.
At UFO detector control
General Arthur Fotheringay Wilberforce-Bertwistle
(Bertie for short) was frantically twiddling the controls next to the vast
screen in front of him. Little green dots went up and down and from side to
side for no apparent reason, red, green and yellow lights flashed so you
wouldnt have known whether to stop go or hesitate if theyd been
traffic lights, which they werent. Strange bleeping noises came from
somewhere, just like on Star Trek.
Suddenly a voice boomed out, the General
started to start and then stopped. This is BBC One, in a few minutes
another boring documentary about lemmings, but now its time for the
Wombles.
At last said the General with
satisfaction. He settled himself in front of the screen with a glass of pop. It
had been a hard day.
He had just about dozed off when the Wombles
went all fuzzy and drifted out of the top left hand corner of the picture.
There was silence for a moment.
Blast, Ill have to get the man
in thought the General and reached to adjust the phase-cancelling
clarifier in case that might do something useful.
Do not touch that Earth man! came
a sinister voice.
Which earth man? And why shouldnt
I touch him? wondered the General.
Dont talk back! This is the voice
of the Miserons. Listen carefully, we have come to destroy your planet in the
most complex manner imaginable rather than just blowing it to bits like
anyone else would.
You bounders! shouted Bertie,
getting all indignant, You shall never succeed, we have Captain Wozzo on
our side!
Ha! said the sinister voice and
the room became silent once more.
The Captain had no idea where he was. It was
dark and misty and, having lost his clerical collar and beads in his
involuntary exit from the train, he was hoping he wouldnt meet a colony
of hippy vicars. But worse was to befall him.
He rounded a corner (which should have been
square) and after extracting himself from the clutches of a rather prickly
hawthorn bush he emerged onto an open plain. In the centre of which was a large
dome which pulsed with orange light.
Aha! A pop festival he thought,
and rushed towards the dome, hoping that thered be a telephone that he
could use.
Now then; anyone who has been out on an open
plain on a dark and misty night would be able to tell you that rushing about is
not really advisable.
The Captain hadnt the benefit of this
knowledge and quickly discovered the fact. After picking himself up and
retrieving his sandal from the rabbit-hole hed tripped over he wiped off
the cow pat from his greatcoat and proceeded with more caution.
The dome was only a few metres away when the
Captain came to a shuddering realisation: There was no music! He didnt
particularly like music, but if this were a pop festival then there should
certainly have been music, very loud music probably, and there was just a faint
hum. Worrying. It might actually be a hippy vicars convention!
He crept closer, above him he could make out a
small hole above which was a plaque reading Rastern Miseron and family.
Terrorists of the Universe and below that a note which read Two
pints on Tuesday and a strawberry yoghurt then none on Wednesday.
This was our
Inter-Galactic-Crime-Fighters big moment. In a flash he had the situation
summed up. This was the UFO! The mother ship of the fleet! But why was it here
in a deserted part of Wiltshire, rather than hurtling towards the antipodes at
super-sonic speed?
Then he heard something, and as he turned to
see what it was he saw a weird figure approaching. In one hand it carried a
battered petrol can, in another a bumper sized bag of
Super-Oatie-Glactic-Scrunchies (SOGS for short) and in the third hand a
Cost-A-Lot coffee. They must have run out of fuel and stopped for supplies.
The Captain had to act! He wasted no time in
twiddling the knobs on his Galactic Blaster which he kept inside his vest. Its
deadly ray shot out sideways and demolished Little Widdlington war memorial,
seven and three-quarter miles away.
His second shot hit home, the Miseron doubled
up and fell onto a hedgehog who didnt notice due to the fact that he was
asleep.
A voice from above rang out: Drop that
weapon Earth man!
The captain did as he was commanded, but as he
did so he activated the Self-Homing-Baddie-Basher concealed in his
underpants.
The SHBB zoomed off leaving the captain with a
severe lack of pants, not a nice thing when youre out on a cold and misty
plain and wearing a kilt.
Simultaneously and at the same time, a
paralysing gas started spraying from our heros bowler hat. Unfortunately
this didnt have a great deal of effect as the hat was still in a cow-pat
a few hundred yards away.
The SHBB found its target and the chief
Miseron fell from his ship. One small plummet for a baddie and one giant leap
for Captain Wozzo. Hooray!
Wodger was rather pleased at the way things
had gone, he was two under par at his golf, the MCC looked as if they were
going to win the cricket match and the UFO menace had been neutralised.
Its certainly a hard job keeping
the country safe he said to General Arthur Fotheringay
Wilberforce-Bertwistle as they tucked into a celebratory feast at the golf
club.
I wonder where old Wozzo is though?
Its not like him to miss a slap-up meal is it?
Mo indeed came the muffled
response from behind a large chicken leg which the General was trying to
disengage from his ample moustaches.
P.C. 3572 of the Little Widdlington
constabulary knew where Captain Wozzo was and he was writing out a charge sheet
for him.
Further to a pre-existing warrant for
arrest in connection with various serious traffic offences, assaulting officers
of the law in the pursuance of their duty, causing a public nuisance, damage to
trousers and bathing in a park pond, we have the following: defrauding the
railway company, trespassing on a private plain, defacing our war memorial,
indecent exposure, unlicensed use of a firearm and the dumping of litter
namely two space creatures, an evil smelling bowler hat and a large
dome.
But.. began Captain Wozzo I-G C F
but he got no further. As the police station clock struck midnight P.C. 3572
looked up from his papers and was surprised to see that where the Captain had
been standing, there was nothing but a glass Doctor Scholl sandal.