Come on - why don't we write our own book right here in the fiction forum ? I'll do the first sentence, and then jump in....hold on, here we go...

"Did you see that?" Spuhoon asked out loud trying to distract LornaDoon from her mission to dent his head.
"What? Yer naffin oversized salt cellar!" Lorna replied as she took another swipe at Spuhoon's bonce with his right leg that she held firmly in her left hand.
"I've never sold salt in all my days but I'm telling you, that post box over there, just moved! I'll swear on her Royal Grumpiness' life it did!"
Lorna looked into the distance and saw nothing unusual, "You need your piggin' optical orbs testing, as well as a rewire an' an effin brain transplant!" she growled.
"There's nowt the matter wi' my optical orbs I'll have you know!" Spuhoon replied indignantly, "They're fitted with the very latest precision ground, Very Focal lenses!"

And even though Spuhoon had very suddenly lost his pseudo pirate-speak, he was right about the yellow post box moving. If LornaDoon had given it more than a cursory glance, she would have seen it tremble, shiver and quake (the name of the British foundry at which it was manufactured.)

Ploppi fighter pilots, Wing Commander Ee-Star Rabbit, and Captain Krug Errand had argued over where to take their 'cloud' of fighter craft after destroying the Stropp-blob, Wabba the Pizza-Hutt. Beside the lake? Beneath the trees? Fluttering and dancing in the breeze? Krug won the debate, decided they needed to lie in wait for any more Stroppi Storm Stroppans to appear, and led the half-million micro-sized craft in a flowing stream through the postal slot of the yellow post box. They all remained in 'hover' mode inside the box, each with its defensive shield activated which had the effect of repelling its neighbour, so all half million were in a constant game of 'anti-dodgem cars'! The post box was bulging, a hum leaked from the postal slot.

Another squeal of tyres and thump rose from the road beyond the jetty as another postal collection van hit another stray dog and then skidded to a halt. The infrequent postie grabbed a sack and strode towards the yellow box, keys in hand. By now, Lorna had stopped hitting Spuhoon, and all remaining droids were watching the postie. Even Spitoon was holding his head up high to get a good view. Postie saw the box quiver and never gave it a second thought, suspecting the Esa breeze as the culprit - even though everywhere was otherwise becalmed. Sack ready to catch the anticipated cascade of holidaymakers' postcards and Olympic Officials' expense claims, the postie inserted the key and opened the box...

Meanwhile,

Stan had tried as best he could to explain to Chappers, exactly what the Queen of Hearts had meant when she'd suggested he did something sexy to attract his wife and they mosied on back to the Pharos Ultra Beacon. Stan had an idea that perhaps Nora might be able to help Chapped Hurs, after all, she was well travelled and so was obviously a woman of the world - so to speak.
Finding Nora sunning herself on deck, the two men sat down beside her and Stan explained the situation to her.
"Have you tried wood Chappers?" Nora began, "I have heard tell that it can help in such predicaments as yours."
The two men looked at each other and grinned, "Chance'd be a fine thing Nora." Chappers replied disconsolately.
"Well," Nora continued, "Begin with soft wood, Balsa 'er confidence a little. Perhaps you could Teak her on a wee Holly day? Visit your parents? Cedar again, though nothing must distract you from your wife, don't let your Ma,hog,any of the Lime light, Mrs Chappers must be the Apple of your eye. Spruce yourself up and Aspen her out for a meal at a Poplar restaurant, Stake and Chips perhaps, followed by pancakes with Maple syrup, don't smoke, Ash is a turn off and certainly don't look at her Chest,Nut all the time anyway! Alder while pay her compliments, Ply her with a couple of drinks, a Larch brandy or two and have a Laurel laughs. Once you've made her Pine for you then you can take the Elm and kiss those Cherry lips of hers, Birch you mustn't overdo it, try to Cypress your ardour, save it, there's nothing a girl likes more at the end of the evening than a little Hardwood."
Chappers turned to Stan and whispered, "That Nora's barking mad!" :O)

"I've known her for a long time," replied Stan. "Believe me, the sooner she leaves us the better. Nobody knows her real name, either - she sometimes goes by 'Nora Bone', and sometimes 'Knitty Nora'.
"That advice oak-hay for you, Chappers?" asked Nora, then she returned to her sunworshipping, while singing:

"Oil I want is a vroom sombrer - oh,
Far away from the col nigh tear
Wiv one e-nor mouse cheer
Oh wooden it be luv-er-ly?

Lots of chuck lots for me to eat
Lots of coal making lots of 'eat
Warm fez, wom'ands, wum fereet
Oh wooden it be luv-er-ly?

Oh, so, luv-er-ly sittin abso-blooming-lutely still
I would never budgie 'til spring
Crypt over me window, still

Someone's 'ead restin' on money
Woman tender as 'e can be
Ood take good care ommee
Oh wooden it be luv-er-ly?..."

"Ah Bravo Nora!" Chappers shouted as he made his way below deck to find his wife, "You have a fine singing voice - very entertaining! You should be on the stage!"
Stan giggled, then added ...

..."Sweeping it, moreso!"
"Oi, I've got no witch's broom with me," replied Nora. "I haven't used a buxom for years..."

.. I'll have you know I was once a Hurlesque prancer in Gay Harry!" she continued.
"Get sick of it did you?" Stan giggled.

Meanwhile...
Cap'n Jack was becomming increasingly worried that he may never regain control of his beloved Salty Sue again. Half of his crew were on the missing list along with some of the paying guests. Turning to Jill he said,
"What oi needs at this juncture is some 'un who might be willin' an' kind enough te take stock. Oi thinks Oi be losin' the plot agen! I needs te know who's wi' me an' jus who's battin fer the other soide, if yer see what I mean?"

"Well, I'm responsible for HR aboard ship, Cap'n," replied Jill, "so I suppose I can look out the crew list for you."
"HR?" queried J... "Would that be 'Heavy Romance'?"
"Haddock Rissoles?" asked the Queen of Hearts.
"Hammock Repairs?" suggested elderly Jack Sprat.
"Handbag Restoration?" enquired Chapped Lips.
"Harbour Refits?" asked Jack B Nimble, as more and more of the crew appeared on deck.
"Hearty Repasts?" suggested Roger the cabin boy.
"Helium Refilling?" said Steely Eye Stan in a high-pitched voice.
"Hemorrhoid Rubbing?" asked Chappers, quietly - and everyone looked at him, knowingly.
"Herbaceous Rotavators?" suggested Petunia Cutting.
"Hiccup Ridding?" queried Peter Piper.
"NADGERS! Hirsute Razoring?" suggested a knowledgeable Betty Swallocks.
"Highhat Resonance?" asked Keith the mooner.
"Hobnob Rusks?" gurgled the well-spoken Rag, Tag and Bob together.
"Whole re-pears?" suggested Nora Sockers.
"Homeopathic Remedies?" added Eddie Taw-Real.
"Homesick Raptures?" sighed Albert Overall.
"Honest Rogues?" said Svetlana Gargelov.
"Horizontal Rodgering?" suggested Jack the Lad with a grin.
"Honky-tonk Ragtime?" asked Pan with the pipes - and Sprinklebell flew about excitedly.
"Hooch Refinement?" was put forward by Bionic Jack.
"Hook Removal!" joined in Captain Jack. "Oi wants him gone, and moi ship returned!"
"Hopeful Weminiscences?" enquired Peg Legge.
"Honeymoon Rumpy-pumpy?" asked Bosun Staines, with fond memories of his Mrs Melly P.
"Hormone Replathement?" asked Eeya Ringe.
"Hacking Respiration?" wheezed Darth Reagan.
"Horse R-r-r-r-r-r-r-ra, r-r-r-r-rad-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-dish?" gasped Iris Patch.
"Hutch Roping-down?" enquired Jack B Quick.
"Hummingbird Wattle?" asked an advanced Little Chap, and Chapped Lips was proud.
"Humour Removal?" asked Jane Plain.
"Hydra Rrrrrrrroaring?" asked Lord Onomatopoiea.
"Hysterical Rewhatnots?" asked Eva Cannonball.
"Hypnotic Ramblings?" joined in Saucy Nancy from the ship next door, "and despotic gamblings!"
"Hound Resurrection?" proferred a slavering Count Jackula, gazing over her head.

"Hospitality Receptions?" asked Normal, James Normal, as the STEPS Agents arrived back at the Pharos Ultra Beacon.
"oo-mid-itay Regulataire?" enquired Omar Gawd.
"Hurricane Rating?" suggested Gregory Bog-Standard.

"Hurtful Riposts?" shouted Major Pieter Verhoofhoften across at their enemy, as he led the way up the gangplank onto the Salty Sue and kicked the watchdog, Timex, out of the way.
"Hussy Regulating?" called out Mr Brobbie.
"Hotdog Relish?" yelled Pnigel Pnormal, "and may it pknacker your gastropnomic pnostrils!"
"Hyacinth Rearing?" suggested Bet Llong-Llist.
"Hello, Refound Alumni!" cried Mary Hinge in the direction of her Maids of the Seven Seas.
"Hygiene Regulations?" suggested Captain France S Drake.
"Hymn Recitals?" offered Glee, keeping a firm grasp on his golden Sceptre of Zeus.

"I've changed my mind," said Jill after some thought. "I'm not going to bother sorting out the crew list, Captain. You really ought to know it by now..."

"Hmmm.." Cap'n Jack replied, taking off his hat and scratching his head, "You're right lass, Oi should knows it by now but Oi gets moiself distracted at toimes an' just lose track o' just 'ose about me. Jus' as well there be someone te sort it. Cheers!"
"Oh yes Cap'n," Jill continued, "Being in charge of HR I feel I am duty bound to mention that we do have a number of stowaways, approximately twenty at last count, they appear harmless, they don't contribute anything to our benefit, they just watch what we are about the whole while. To be honest, I feel many of them are sleeping constantly and have simply forgotten where they are."
Cap'n Jack looked to the sunrise on the horizon and contemplated what Jill had told him, "Arrr if that be the case, can ee throw em overboard?"
"Not so easy I'm afraid Cap'n. They never show themselves. If they did, we might set 'em to work - see?"
"Arrr, we'll just count 'em as ballast weights then?" Cap'n Jack suggested.
"Oh they're waiting alright! Work shy chickens if you ask me!" Bosun Staines complained as he readied to weigh anchor once again.
"More like Turkey Lurkeys!" Nora Sockers giggled.
"Where're we headed now Cap'n?" the rest of the crew chorused cheerfully.

Pussy Galore and Billie Jean, the two ships' cats sat on the jetty and stared at the Pharos Ultra Beacon, then at the Salty Sue and wondered, 'what the ship was going on?'.

"Wherever moi Salty Sue goes, we follow, shipmates," replied Captain Jack. "Roight now, we ain't goin far. We loi in wait."

Meanwhile...

on the Ploppi Mother Ship, scanner operator Hugs had been monitoring events on the PUB.
"I hope Squg doesn't ask for an HR role call. It would take some time since Captain Krug Errand brought his host of fighter craft..."

Meanwhile...

back on the jetty, the postie opened the bulging yellow post box, and the swarm of half million plopp craft lurking inside poured out - straight into his waiting open sack. Taken aback, the postie quickly pinched shut the sack and tied it up. With the sack bouncing and wobbling with an apparent mind of its own, the postie returned to his van and slung the sack in the back. Then, roaring off with a lurch, he collided with another stray dog and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

As the cloud of dust settled, left on the ground was a letter, the postie had forgotten to deliver it. A passing tourist snatched it up and walked toward the first ship he came to, the Pharos Ultra Beacon, looking across at the gathered throng on deck, he shouted,
"Do you have Seaman Staines aboard?"
"Aye lad we do! But I was promoted te Bosun some time ago!" Staines shouted back.
"Well, I have a letter here for you, says on the back, 'If undelivered, return to Mrs Mellie P Staines. NSW Australia'!" And the tourist threw the letter across to the Bosun, who snatched it from the air, ripping it open to read:

Dearest,
Arrived safely down under, Staines. It is very nice, we have set up home and we are all enjoying ourselves very much. There is only one draw back, over the last month I have become a victim of a clever scam whilst out shopping. Simply popping into the local supermarket has turned into quite a traumatic experience. I've warned all of my new female friends and have told them not to be naive enough to think it might not happen to them and that they should be vigilant. Here's how the scam works: In the car park of the supermarket as I loaded my groceries, two seriously good looking young men came over and offered to help me pack my shopping into the boot. Once loaded they both then began cleaning my windscreen. Their firm, bronzed, muscular young bodies, bulging out of their skimpy vest tops and shorts. It really was impossible for me not to stare. When I thanked them and offered them a tip, they refused and instead asked if I'd give them a lift to another supermarket. Of course, you know me Staines, I had to agree and they both climbed in the back seat of my car. On the way they complained that it was hot and began to undress, all of a sudden they were completely naked! I just had to pull over to remonstrate, but quick as a flash one of them climbed over into the front seat and began to kiss me, whilst the other one - would you believe it? Stole my purse!
I had my purse stolen on Jan 4th, 9th, 10th, twice on the 15th, 17th, 20th, 24th and 29th. Also Feb, 1st, 4th, twice on the 6th, three times last Saturday and I imagine more than likely it will happen again this coming Saturday.
Luckily though, the supermarket does have a line in purses that are very reasonable - only a dollar each. Sorry to worry you so Staines but looking on the bright side, I think it's highly likely that you're going to be a Dad again very, very soon - so that's nice isn't it?

Love to you from your Missus, Mellie P.

Bosun Staines smiled and pushed the letter into his pocket highly delighted to hear he'd fathered another child.

Meanwhile...

on the Salty Sue, Major Pieter Verhoofhoften felt waves of familiar security waft through his being as he caressed his trusty bazooka. He had felt naked ashore having to leave their arsenal behind; Bet Lluverley-Jubberly thought he had looked naked ashore, with his ancient Greek shift (designed for an 11-year-old) revealing his arsenal behind. However, as he even now considered loading a shell into his weapon, the Pharos Ultra Beacon was pulling away from the jetty and heading off down river towards the Esa.
"Drats!" he thought. "We need to entice them again with something that lures the STEPS agents into my sights." Looking around at the party that had returned from the Olympia site, he addressed the drudroids.
"Where next? Where are there any more Incubation Pods?"
LornaDoon's head continued to slowly rotate with a glazed film across her optical orbs.
"That book is 3 months overdue!" she uttered. "There will be a fine to pay, I'm afraid. SILENCE IN THE LIBRARY!"
Spuhoon had reverted to pirate-speak: "Billy Bones, bones, bones...Cap'n Blood... arrrr, Bluebeard - 'im wi' the coarse 'air!...argh, the black spot...out darn spot. You talkin' to meeee, Pegleg Pieter?"
Spitoon was continually throwing his head into the air and catching it: "You know, the view from up there in the crow's nest is beau-ti-fulllll. I feel aliiiiiiiive. Johnny Five!"
Nu-Broom was distraught at the loss of his pod of eggs, and could only stand nervously gazing upwards, awaiting the vengeful transportation beam from er indoors on Stroppi Kao.
Giboon and Owtatoon were walking in circles, hands clasped, in a rendition of 'the Birdie Song', with Owtatoon continually chanting his partner's activation code, "Foon Key, Gibboon, Foon Key..."
The Major persisted with what appeared the only sensible droid, Nu-Broom.
"Where are there any more Incubation Pods, droid?"
"Er, well I hear you have been to most. It leaves The Hanging Gardens of Babylon - but you will have to leave your ship at Halicarnassus and journey overland by chariot..."
"Didn't the female droid say the eggs there had hatched 150 years ago, Major?" asked Brobbie. They looked at Lorna who was busy scanning and date stamping every bullet in a case of ammunition. "Take this form and fill it in to apply for a library card - and DON'T BEND THE COVERS ON THE BOOKS BACKWARDS, YOUNG MAN. How would you like YOUR spine to be broken, eh? eh? What's that? Category, Incubation Pods, Secret? That's in the restricted section, young man. Do your mummy and daddy know you are after such books? Eh? Eh? They do? Well, know your books, young man...look for Jules Verne..." and with that she scanned herself and shut down.

Meanwhile..
Jack Sprat had slept soundly in Lord Onomatopoeia's SHED for most of his journey from the B ach, back to the PUB, but now upon the deck in his hammock he was restless, tossing, turning and rambling in broken slumber surrounded by a few of the crew.
"Should I wake him up?" J... asked Onno.
But there was no need for her to shake or shout at Jack, for in that instant, Jack Sprat sat bolt upright, a cold sweat had plastered his thinning, grey locks to his forehead, pallid and with a wild, maniacal look about his face he trembled as though afeared of a ghost.
"Oh Jack you've been having a nightmare!" Petunia whispered comfortingly, as she rushed forward to support the old man's head with one hand, at the same time grasping behind her with her other hand for something with which to soothe his fevered brow, luckily Onno's dibber was out of reach.
Jack looked Jill in the eye and spouted, "Nightmare? Nightmare girl? You be having no need to tell me! Oh it was just horrible! Simply too, too awful to recount." Jack spluttered, "Somethin' put me in mind o' days o' yore, made me dream that we were back on page 126 with me old mukka Cap'n Neeno and his good ship the Naughtyless an' all us wi' the Salty Sue and the Fayre Game!"
Jill frowned, "Oh you poor thing! .... Hmm, the Fayre game? I remember that."
"Hmm me too ... I remember that there was a Fair bit of 'Twoddle' around about then as well." she said with a smile.

With that, Jack Sprat's eyes rolled skyward and he fainted back into his hammock.
"Did I mith thumthing?" Eeya shouted from way, way at the back.

Meanwhile...
Having become separated from the rest of the Ploppian Fighter Fleet, luckily escaping the Postie's bag and worse still having lost Ploppicom contact with the Mother Ship, an exhausted Officer Blug brought his craft into land upon Petunia's trailing, blue lobelia. Lifting open the cockpit he sighed to himself, "Phew! That was a close shave!" And he wearily climbed down onto the foliage.
Meanwhile, Petunia had - having grown tired of brushing away the tumble weed that were once again beginning to mount up on deck - availed herself of another bottle of Lord Onno's 'Growth Serum'. She'd used the last lot to great effect and everyone aboard had admired and complimented her on the spectacular show her clematis was offering. Decanting the precious liquid into a spray bottle, Petunia now flitted from barrel to barrel, spraying copious amounts of the serum onto her beloved flora. Then in the corner of her eye she espied a tiny, motionless, iridescent 'beetle' and beside that an even tinier crawling 'fly'. "Pesky, little blighters!" Petunia shouted and turning the spay on them she attempted to drown the 'insects' with the serum then moved swiftly on, to tend and weave the new growth on her ever expanding clematis.
As Officer Blug lay dazed and stricken in the golden liquid he couldn't help but drink a little of it but as he gasped for air, coughing, spluttering and spitting, there came a realisation that, actually, it wasn't so unpleasant at all, in fact, it tasted rather good and so he drank a little more and then a little more until eventually he began to feel less and less tired ... Nay! He felt positively invigorated! His whole body tingled from head to toe but as he turned to look at his fighter craft to return to the his seat in the cockpit he glanced at his reflection in the glass and discovered he was no longer going to fit! In reality, Officer Blug was now twice the size of his fighter craft and continuing to grow at an alarming rate.

Meanwhile...

on board the Salty Sue, an exasperated Major was shaking an apparently lifeless LornaDoon.
"Which Jules Verne book? What did you mean? Where is there another incubation pod? Answer me you infuriating machine!"
Letting her go he turned to Spuhoon. "Where is there another incubation pod? What do you know about it?"
"Underground, overground, grumbling free, the pirates of Stroppicom Common are we," the droid replied shuffling around the deck on one leg and supported by his piece of timber. "Pegleg Pieter's puzzled!"
"Bah!" uttered Pieter, watching Spitoon's torso run around the deck like a headless chicken as it had thrown its head a bit too high, and it had got caught in the rigging. There was no point in asking it the same question as its aural ports and voice synthesiser were being pecked at by a gull, being entwined in its lofty snare. Pieter was losing his temper with the useless droids.
"Pieces of hate, pieces of hate," chanted Spuhoon.
"Perhaps it would be a good idea to pop down to the ship's library, Major," said Nu-Broom.
"Whaaaat..." he replied in annoyance. Then he thought about what the droid had said. "You mean, to check on the list of books written by Jules Verne?"
"No. You will have noticed that your cook has become incapacitated. I suggest you check out some recipes so you can get the evening meal underway. May I suggest a scrumptious Italian dish consisting of pizza dough topped with mozzarella and meats like salami which is then folded into a turnover or rolled like a log and baked, called Stromboli."
"I'm not baking bread when the weapons need checking! We need to get under way and hunt down that other ship - I want those STEPS agents D-E-A-D!!! Frenchie! Get your man Glee down the library to look up the recipe for Strumbelly!" Then he turned to Bet Llack-Lluster and added, "and you go with him to check on what Jules Verne books they have down there..."

"There is no response from Wing Commander Ee-Star Rabbit, Captain Krug Errand or Officer Blug." advised peri-thermo-sonoscope operator, Wug Wig on board the Ploppi Mother Ship. "With Ploppmeister Squg still out of action, who is in charge of the ship?"
"Well, don't look at me!" replied Chief Catering Corps chef, Grub-Upp, "I'm in the middle of my soufflées. There's nothing worse than half risen soufflés."
"Nor me," joined in officer Squiff-Ee. "I'm busy sampling the, er, I mean stocktaking the alcohol reserves."
"I guess it falls down to myself," advised Chief Engineer Qwug, taking the important seat. "Scanner and Pink Monitor updates?"
"Scanner is showing nothing of concern, Chief," replied scanner operator, Zug Zag.
"Pink no longer stinks, Chief," reported Pink Monitor monitor, Glug.
"Pale face, him speak with forked tongue, Chief," said Aide, Bug Offe.
"Sitting Bull, him get heap damp botty from wet grass, Chief," added Minion, Klug Lug.
"Beating Stroppis earns heap big feather in cap, Chief," joined in Assistant Engineer and Navigator, Fug Offe.
"Some of you are looking for a visit from Wig Wam and Tommy Hawk if you keep that up," replied Qwug. Silence descended.

Then Qwug looked around at his men, "We must find out what happened to the fighter fleet and why we've lost all communication with them. What we need now is some Intelligence!"
Glug looked at Grub-up, who looked at Squiff-Ee, who looked at Zug Zag, who looked at Bug Offe, who looked at Klug Lug, who looked at Fug Offe then they all turned to stare blankly at Chief Engineer Qwug who immediately knew that none of them could even spell IT, never mind be relied upon to possess any.
"Fetch Roy!" Qwug ordered.
"Roy who?" Glug asked with puzzled expression.
"Roy man!" Qwug repeated, "Roy the Chief Intelligence Technician!"
Again, Glug looked at Grub-up, who looked at Squiff-Ee, who looked at Zug Zag, who looked at Bug Offe, who looked at Klug Lug and again they all looked blankly at Chief Engineer Qwug.
"Oh for Fugg's sake! Do I have to do everything for myself?" Qwug grumbled.
Then storming along the door lined corridor he reached the very last one and stopped, he turned to knock at the door and read the small plaque inscribed with the name .. 'R FUGG IT'!

Meanwhile...

Qwug's men were just wandering around aimlessly with blank looks on their multicoloured faces waiting for the return of their chief who would hopefully bring them the necessary intelligence to track the fleet but Qwug had now just noticed that immediately below the name R FUGG IT was a second notice saying, "gone to lunch, please try again in one hour"

Chief Engineer Qwug couldn't help but wonder at what time Roy had actually gone to lunch. He looked at his watch, it was 9 in the morn, Qwug himself had only just breakfasted. Had Roy gone for his lunch early, at say, eight? Was the hour nearly up? In which case, Roy might be back at any second. Or, and this seemed a more likely explanation - Roy had taken his lunch break yesterday and simply not returned! Qwug was worried. Where was Roy Fugg?

The answer was revealed from an unlikely source. The Ploppmeister was watching some episodes of 'Mystery and Imagination' when Chief Engineer Qwug returned to the control room asking "Where is Roy Fugg? Anyone seen Fugg? Is he still out to lunch?"
"Lunch, smunch!" replied Squg. "He is our Chief Intelligence Technician and will be engaged in seeking out supplies of hcnul to facilitate our return to Plopp."
"Eh? Sorry, I mean, could you elucidate, your Ploppmeisteriness?" asked the Chief.
"He will have stepped through the reflective vortex in his search," answered Squg, pointing to what appeared to be a large mirror.
"You mean..."
"Yes, Gguf has gone back to days of Yor...woo-ee-oo-oo, woo-ee-oo-oo, woo-ee-oo-oo..."

"Damn, my type writer ribbon is running out" thought the infinitith monkey. " And since we had infinite ribbons to fit the infinite typewriters at the start, then with there can be more......"

"Quickly Nurse Mairee Ploppins! Quickly!" Qwug ordered, The Ploppmeiser is having a relapse! He's talking gibberish again! Bring the straitjacket!"
Nurse Mairee Ploppins ran to the Ploppmeister's wardrobe and grabbed at the first jacket she could lay her hands on.
"Will this do?" she asked, holding out a very old and battered school jacket.
"No! What the blazers? It's crumpled! It has to be a straitjacket - to hold him still whilst we administer his c... "
"But Sir! Officer Qwug Sir!" Bug Offe interrupted, "There isn't much left, the fighter fleet used it as ammunition against the Stroppis! What if Roy never returns from Yor?"
"Well then, we'll just have to dnef for ourselves, make our own hcnul, fix our own aet and just hope the supplies of Aococ last out!"
"Could we follow him Sir?" Bug Offe asked.
"We could, but it's risky, far better we continue with our Drawrof thinking."
The men looked puzzled and reached for their crayons.

Meanwhile...
Officer Blug had continued to grow, and nestled deep in Petunia's Lobelia he'd reached a full six inches. Luckily his suit was made from the super stretchy Plopp fabric, 'TriCarboPlastolene' designed by the Plopp Military Scientists for just such eventualities. Blug quickly realised his condition may not be permanent and was wise enough to pop his now miniaturised fighter craft into his pocket. Finding himself alone, without any back-up from the Mother ship he would need all his wits about him if he were ever to be reunited with the rest of the PIA and the PMS but just like Commander Ee Star Rabbit he too had had specialist training. Ee Star and Blug had completed their training together - Blug too was a Plopp-STAR - a Plopp-Special Terrain Army Ranger and he wasn't going to let something so trivial as a little growth serum defeat him. With this in mind, at the top of his voice he began to sing ...

..."Oh, I love to go a wandering, along the mountain track,
and as I go I love to sing with a fighter ship on my back:
PIA-ee, PIA-ah, PIA...
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha PIA-ee" and Petunia wondered where the insane laughing was coming from.

Meanwhile, Eeya theartched for a replathement typewriter ribbon. "We need to enthure our adventureth continue to be documented," thee thed. "However, I'm not tho happy about being referred to ath a thimeon, infinitith or not!"

Meanwhile...
on the Salty Sue, Glee and Bet had returned from the library and presented themselves to an agitated Major.
"Couldn't find any recipes for Strumpetti, Major, there was only information on the volcanic island of Stromboli that lies just off the north coast of Sicily. Constantly active it is, been in one continuous eruption for the past 2,000 years. Strange thing is, it appeared in..."
"Verne wrote dozens and dozens of books, Major," interrupted Bet Lliterure-Llover. "Around the World in 80 Days, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, A Journey to the Centre of the Earth, The Mysterious Island, Dick Sand - A Captain at Fifteen, From the Earth to the Moon, Paris in the 20th Century..."
"Island of Stromboli? Mysterious Island? Are you pair conspiring to lead us somewhere?" asked Pieter.
"Sir, no Sir!" replied Bet.
"Go back to the library and read up on the books, soldier," said the Major. "Captain! Set course for the north of Sicily - as most of the other incubation pods were in a circle around the Aegean and Med, the location would seem to fit well. Now, what's the best way to wake up this female droid?"
"Perhaps tell her we're just about to dock outside a brand new shopping mall, Major?" suggested Glee, before returning to his statue of Artemis.

"Oh! and by the way" Glee added, "if that doesn't do the trick straight away, also say that they have a sale on and the mall is being visited by Bradley Pittishness"
At the mention of that name, Bet almost went into a swoon, " You mean THE Bradley Pittishness, the one married to Angelina Jollygoodshowchaps?"

'Ohmygodohmygodohmygod' squealed LornaDoone who suddenly came back to life. She almost swooned and then again she said 'Ohmygodohmygodohmygod'. Another pause followed and then again 'Ohmygodohmygodohmygod'. As she started to repeat herself the Major narrowed his eyes. His temper was famously short and it was growing shorter by the second.