Okay, by way of explanation/ apology: This was originally meant to be a script and therefore it will become a little bit of 'death by dialogue' but i have tried to adapt it as much as possible. Also this is very different to my first story and i feel that i've more stolen Vince and Howard's names rather than their characters. However, don't judge all that. Judge the story. Sisi xx

Disclaimer: Quite clearly i do not own the Boosh. If i did own the Boosh I wouldn't be here writing this, I'd be out there writing a (what is bound to be) fantastic stage show.


Unbelievable! Vince had finally made it. How many years had Vince introduced himself as 'Vince Noir, Rock and Roll star'? and now it was true. He was still the flighty, mad and slightly childish Vince he had always been but now he used words like 'chillax' and said 'oh - my - god' a lot. Howard and concluded he was turning into a male version of Paris Hilton and all he needed now was a Chihuahua in a handbag.

"OH - MY - GOD!" yelled Vince walking through the door of the flat. "you will never guess who I saw today in Camden."

"Who?" said Howard frowning slightly.

"Gary Numan" grinned Vince "and do you know what's even better?"

"What?"

"He's in town to see me." Howard looked up too see Vince grinning stupidly with Chihuahua in a bag slung over his shoulder. That was the final straw. Howard threw down the pen he'd been chewing and stormed into his room.

Vince, confused, went to follow Howard just as his phone buzzed.

"Hello?"

"Vince. It's Scotty. You have got to get yourself to the Velvet Onion."

"Why?"

"We're having a party to celebrate you being asked to headline Glastonbury."

"…but I don't know if I'm going to do it yet. You know how I hate getting my clothes messy."

"Just get to the party!"

"ummmm…" said Vince looking guiltily at Howard's door . "Okay, I'll be there in five."

As Vince walked through the door to the Velvet Onion the DJ stopped the music and the party erupted into a long drawn out cheer. Vince bowed, twirled and grinned, lapping up the attention. The party buzzed and Vince enjoyed signing the autographs and receiving the complements

"Vince, I love your hair." - "It's root boosted. Good isn't it?"

"Vince, your latest song was amazing." - "Let's hope it goes to number one?"

"Vince, where d'you get your shirt from?" - "Topshop"

"Vince, You are brilliant!" - "Thanks so are you."

"Vince, you look so cool." - "Thanks."

"Vince, here's my number ring me." - "Ummm, okay. Maybe"

Vince, Vince, Vince, Vince.

Vince bounced around like a kid in a sweet shop. He was in his element, free drinks and free complements. It couldn't get any better. So, why did he feel so down? It couldn't be. Surely. He wasn't worried about Howard, was he? That jazz-freak was fine, he was probably sat at home arranging and re-arranging his jazz collection. Content with that thought, Vince went back to enjoying his party. Although he looked happy he couldn't quite shake off that nagging feeling.