Disclaimer: I do not own The Young Ones.

The Origin of the Bacon Sandwich
By Silver Sailor Ganymede

Vyvyan had finally decided that having ones head chopped off then kicking the head in question down what remained of the British rail-system was not a good idea; especially considering that some bastards had kicked them off the train and left them to walk all the way to bloody Manchester or wherever it was…

Personally Vyvyan would much rather be causing utter havoc than walking all the way from wherever he had been on the train to wherever he was going – but then again that wasn't surprising considering his favourite word in the English language was 'bloody chaos' – okay, fine, favourite phrase, but don't be picky; you'll end up like Prick if you do!

The aforementioned Prick-with-a-silent-P was, as always, moaning. Apparently he had 'had enough of the pigs and didn't exactly want to be stuck in a barn with them, thank you very much'. This only served to make Vyvyan think that Prick was as much of a pig as the pigs they were in that barn with were. Vyvyan was pretty sure by then that Prick, for all his 'anarchistic' views, was most likely to end up as a pig or, and this was even worse, a politician.

Gods he wanted a bacon sandwich. He really wanted a bacon sandwich and being stuck in that bloody barn with all those pigs was not helping. Vyvyan wondered what would happen if he just killed a pig and ate it – after all pig is the same as bacon, only difference was that one mooed and the other didn't. Why did that not sound quite right? Who cared? He wanted a bacon sandwich damnit and those bastards wouldn't let him!

It was then that Vyvyan found himself having to listen to Prick's complaints again as he began to shriek like a girl – Vyvyan wondered once again whether Prick really was a girl; if not he did a damn good impression of one… But no, it was all 'and how did we end up spending the night in a barn in the first place? Do you know what will happen if they catch us?' la de bloody la de la.

"Come on then lads," Mike spoke up at last, cutting off whatever it was Prick was moaning about. "We best get going. Only another hundred miles to Manchester."

It was then that the thought struck him – if he wanted a bacon sandwich then he bloody well would have one, and no bastard was going to stop him! He picked up one of the squealling piglets from behind him and carried it out of the barn. Mike looked around when he heard the squealling.

"Vyvyan, is that a pig?" Prick asked just as Mike was about to ask the same question.

"No, it's a ferret. What do you think you bloody nancy-boy?"

"But Vyvyan, that doesn't look anything like a ferret…" Neil looked confused.

"Bloody hippie twat," Vyvyan rolled his eyes.

"Why have you nicked that pig then?" Mike asked.

"I wanted a bacon sandwich," came Vyvyan's honest – le gasp – reply.