STRIKE UP WITH HAPPY SONG FROM THE MASSED CHOIRS OF THE ISLAMIC BRANCH OF THE RAMBLERS ASSOCIATION.

' WE LOVE TO GO A WANDERING, UPON THE TUBES AND TRAINS.
AND AS WE GO, WE LOVE TO LEAVE OUR RUCKSACKS AND REMAINS...

VALAREEEE ....VALARAAAA,.... VALAREEE, VALA RA HA HA HA

WATCH YER ARSE!..... [WATCH YER ARSE!].... INFIDEL!....[INFIDEL!]

OUR RUCKSACK'S ON YOUR TRAIN!! '



CUT TO REMOTE HILLS ON THE BORDER OF AFGHANISTAN/PAKISTAN



Dawn is breaking over the Tora Bora. Ossie the Mossie Bin Liner sits disconsolate cross legged outside his cave with his faithful servant Mustaptha Ali. Things haven't been going too well since the cheeky chappie attempted the total anihilation of America.


Mustapha. Oh My Lord Osama. Why so sad? For see the sun in his golden chariot rides from out God's furnace. to smote the curtain clouds of night and fire all the rocks to molten bronze!

Ossie. Oh my faithful servant Mustapha. Daylight breaks my heart. For I must leave the Tora Bora as th Yankee Infidel comes seeking my destruction. [ Sound of oncoming aircraft] I must find refuge whence none can trace me. I must at once away. Fast! For already I fear the falcon falls upon its fleeing prey. [ Aircraft noise grows louder]

Mustapha. Fear nothing, Lord of the Monsterous Demons! For, By the Prophet's Nightshirt!, I shall hide you in such a place as no creature born might trespass. A place so secret even the shadows dare not lie there! A safe retreat forever set beyond the eyes of the prying world!

Ossie. By the Prophets Beard!! SPEAK MY FAITHFUL SERVANT MUSTAPHA!!! Wherefore comes this fabulous lair!!?? Let your tongue unfold. And if it tells untruths, may a thousand vengeful swords fall from the angry sky and sever your vile head from your criminal and unworthy body.

Mustapha. It is no wind up O Wise One. For by the power of Allah, the Most Merciful, the Most Compasionate, the Most Sneaky, you shall vanish! As ether vanishes into air! You shall disappear as the forest at midnight melts unseen into the darkness of the misted mountains. You shall dissolve invisible to all creation, like the spirits of heaven hidden from mortal gaze.

Ossie. How can this be!? What blessed den have you prepared that can so hide a man as to become unseen!!? Shorn of my being, shall I  become as incorporeal nothingness?  Shall I crawl like the insects under a stone?

Mustapha. You are getting warm, O Destroyer of Worlds.

Ossie. Shall I feign disguise to dupe the unsuspecting?

Mustapha. You are getting warmer, O Scourge of the Infidel Crusaders.

Ossie. What then?...Speak....How may I be hidden so that God himself can scarce guess my whereabouts!!!???

Mustapha. You shall become BRITISH TELECOMMUNICATIONS CUSTOMER SERVICES MANAGER!!  By the steel of the Sultan's Sabre, I utterly guarentee NOBODY.....NOBODY ...WILL EVER FIND YOU!!!!

As the noise of aircraft comes directly above and the sound of bombs dropping and exploding rents the desert silence, the two plucky chums scuttle away across the sand, dodging the blasts, to catch the Number 911 magic carpet bus to a new adventure..... In London!...... 

    TO BE CONTINUED.......SOON!