Men in Black

It was nearly tea-time and I was grabbing a quiet few minutes on the computer when the doorbell rang. It played "Tie me kangaroo down" and made me jump.

I went and opened the door. On the doorstep were two sinister-looking men, both tall and dark. They were wearing severely-cut dark suits, white shirts and sunglasses. One of them was inspecting my doorbell as though it had failed to live up to his expectations.

"Can I interest you gentlemen in the message of The Great Cthu'lu?" I asked brightly. (It's always a good idea to get the first word in with these religious types). "I have some leaflets right here!"

"I'm a Jedi Knight myself," said the more hairy man in black. "And my colleague here can always ask the Devil if he has any questions on religion."

"Och, I dinna talk to him, he talks tae me," said the one fiddling with the doorbell. "I dinna encourage him."

"Charlie! Harry! I'm so sorry, I didn't recognise you, you look like respectable people in those suits," I said and stood aside to let my husband and his colleague and fellow badger-champion inside.

Charlie and Harry own a grand total of two suits between them, which they bought at a funeral home's closing-down sale. They wear them for weddings, funerals, visits to the psychiatriast (in Harry's case) and Council planning meetings. They look quite scarily official in them, until you look down and see the Doc Martin boots on Charlie's feet and the lack of socks on Harry's.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" I said, giving him a big hug. This was rather unkind of me, forcing unexpected physical intimacy with a member of the opposite sex on Harry. He flushed bright fuchsia and shambled off to look at our collection of Monkey DVDs.

"They agreed one badger crossing, but they're still arguing about the placing of the ones by the park," growled the Werewolf, taking his Dalek lunchbox out of his offical council briefcase. "We stressed the importance of the electronic eyes and the badger-tagging. Nobody really seems to care about the rights of badgers in Middlehamptonborough."

"That's terrible, dear," I said mechanically. "Minnie, James come downstairs and wish Harry a Happy Birthday!" There was a sound as though of a group of drunken baboons falling out of a tree, and my children appeared.

"Take Minnie's chainmail off and put some trousers on, James. Minnie, I need you to try the chainmail on for size. Hurry up because it's nearly time for tea," my mouth said while my brain wandered off somewhere else entirely. Men in black...official...scarey...James....Men In Black...tea...aha!

"AHAHAHAHAHA!!!!" I yelled. Harry, who isn't good with loud noises, jumped and banged his head on the sideboard.

"Sorry, Harry," I said as he did some calming breathing exercises. "Charlie dear, I need you and Harry to run a quick errand and get Jay's mobile phone. James will take you to where they left it."

I'll say this for my husband, he may look like someone who howls at the full moon, but that hairy head is packed with brains. He had worked it out before James had finished putting his trousers on.

"Come with us, Harry, you'll like this," he said. "We'll have a ride in James' go-cart. James, we need you to drive. You two can sit on my lap if you like."

"Not that we're gay!" said James and Harry in chorus as they went out to the workshop. I smiled at a problem well solved and went out into the kitchen to finish icing Harry's birthday cake.