This chapter was powered by: The utter wrong-and-yet-so-rightness of Noel/Mike slash at the (link Boosh Slash Haven). (cease, you vile and fantastic lot!)Also powered by 'Mah name is Mike, I'm not a dyke, I ride uh bike' from the same location.

With an almighty blast of green lightning, the broom cupboard door was blown off its hinges, and a livid, fire-breathing Ethel stomped out, pawing the ground like an irate, Christmas-tree coloured bull.

Vince choked, stepping back, his eyes bulging 'Oo are you? And 'ow long have you been in the broom cupboard!'

'Three weeks and two days!' Ethel snorted, glowering and advancing on them menacingly.

Howard put his hands on his hips and turned to Vince.

'Now look. We agreed on a chores rota, didn't we? You promised me faithfully you'd do the hoovering every Sunday, and yet this young lady's not been disturbed by you getting a hoover out…'

'No way, I swopped with Bollo! I wash the dishes, Naboo dries 'em, Bollo hoovers!'

Bollo shook his shaggy head: 'Vince being retard – Bollo promise to do laundry, not hoovering'.

Ethel cut in with a blood-curdling screech,

'I'm gonna make mincemeat out of ya, yew miserable little courgettes!',

clawing the air and flapping her scrawny arms about horrifically. A lesser man would have screamed something undignified like 'Mummy!' and run away, but the single minded Howard Moon just said coolly:

'Excuse me? Can you just wait a minute, please, we're having a bit of a debate? Now, let's take it from square one; was it Naboo's turn in the first place?'

'Nah, I made chilli f'r dinner and spag bol the night before,' Naboo shook his pageboy head, ' – I'm def'nitly on cookin' duty'

'Well, someone's supposed to…'

'Look, d'yew MIND!' Ethel howled, puce with rage, her fingers like corkscrews, 'I was in the middle of ripping your spines out to make teethpicks!'

'Well, ribs would work better…sorry. Do carry on, Miss' Howard said in a gentlemanly fashion. Everyone turned to Ethel and listened politely.

'I'm defe'ted!' she screeched 'I try and try and try to break you up, you two miserable heart-worms'(she pointed) 'It's jus' tew…sweet. I now realise, even in my tuber-infested liddle heart...you couldn't be swayed by a spell, you wuz too much in love!'

'No,'

Naboo stared at her, 'Wha' are you, a muppet! I brained him with a bottle 'acos I didn't wanna sparkly man-faery getting' off with me. Fought it w's obvious. And the other weird stuff that's been happening, if that was you, it's luck and my seventh sense that it all worked out'

'WOT? you foil all my plots and now it emerges you were doing it BY ACCIDENT? Thought you 'ad some higher force behind you! Thought you 'ad some Venus-like goddess of love backing yew up! Thought you love made you immune to the magic'

'No, that's Harry Potter,' Howard pointed out helpfully.

'…like you was star-struck wiv each other…'

Naboo looked the green Girl-witch right in her Polo eye.

'We might be. Iss none of your business'

'…I mean, OO DO YOU FINK YOU ARE!'

Wrong question.

'I'm Naboo, that's who'

Vince whispered

'Turn your back on her!'

'Fink I might just do that' Naboo said, as grimly as anyone wearing what's essentially dressing-gown with a cummerbund ever can say something.

He began to turn his back…and stopped short.

The green witch-creature had visibly crumpled. She hunched in on herself miserably, a tear sliding down her hideous long nose. Her shoulders shook. She slid down the wall and began to cry softly. Naboo, Howard, and Ginger gawped.

Not Vince.

He went over and slid an immaculately-sleeved arm around her, as she started to weep, 'Nobody loves me, they're all a set of veg'table peelings and floorsweepings, the lot of 'em…all I really wanted was a green witch-bloke of me own to curl up wiv and watch cheesy 80's videos togevver…s'not fair, s'not fair, everyone else gets a feckin' happy ending, and I never…'

'Oi!' Vince jerked his head towards the kitchen, 'You gonna stand there like a goldfish with issues, or you gonna go put the kettle on? Howard, make us all some tea, willya, and Ginger, you'n' Naboo go get a rug 'n' some fluffy cushions'

'And me?'

'Bollo – Bollo, you go get the Kleenex. Polo-girl 'ere looks like she needs some'

A cheery new morning. The sun rose, the sky fuchsia, and the clouds geranium and pansy. Sunlight did not pervade the marijuana-and-poppy scented ecosystem of Naboo's bedroom, but if it had, he would probably have done as everyone does when they see the light, and grin idiotically and Feel Smiley.

He stuck his head round the door, and beckoned to Ginger, who was animal-curled up under the indigo quilt.

'You won't believe what Howard'n'Vince are doing. Guess they must reckon being sweet to y'enemies works better'n kickin their arses,' he mused, then grinned, 'except for Saboo. Kicking'is arse is totally justified'

'Who's Saboo?' Ginger said sleepily.

'A ball-bag in a hat' Naboo smiled cheerily.

'Oh. Can you introduce me?' she asked sweetly, and padded through to the kitchen table, wrapped in a spare purple dressing-gown thing.

'…heard of a Dating Agency?' Vince was saying.

'Yeah, they're usually very effective,' Howard nodded to Ethel, who looked a different witch, after a few cups of tea and a wee chat around a furry cushion.

'How would you know?' Vince smirked at him.

'Er…not that I know, of course, I'm just saying, theoretically…but Howard Moon has never had to go to a dating agency, no sir, he doesn't know the first thing about them!'

'Hey, Howard, look at this one!' Vince cried, picking up the 'personals' page in the newspaper:

Moustachioed Jazz-freak genius, 30-ish, fine brown hair, likes art, literature and muffin-coloured shirts, seeks elegant foreign lady with a penchant for snakes. Must like trumpets and bookmarks.

'Woss this?' Vince pointed, '' Whoa, Howard…!'

Howard froze. My secret is out! he whimpered inside his head.

'You must have a TWIN! Check it out, 'ee sounds exactly like you chasin' after Mrs Gideon! Wow, how freaky is that?'

'Yeah!' Howard managed to gasp, 'What are the chances of that, eh?'

Ethel picked up the page and looked at it thoughtfully.

'Well, me Uncle wouldn't like it, but sod it, I'm sick of trustin' the opinion of a man 'oos idea of a good time is raping a porpoise! If yew fink it's worth it, and you'll 'elp me write it, I'll give it a go'

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