“Brian Creswell” I gasped.

“You were expecting someone else?”

“It’s you.”

“Of course it’s me.”

“No – it’s you you. The real version of you.”

“Of course – there was an accident. I woke up and found myself in this strange reality.”

“An accident?” I gasped.

“I sold Outpost Bendaton to a processed meat factory. I left behind a copy of Lungbarrow, sealed in a plastic bag and shoved behind the toilet in the staffroom. It was my pension you see. I snuck back in shortly after the processed meat people had taken over and stumbled into a web of mayhem and intrigue. The meat people found me crouching behind a dead cow and thought I’d been spying on them. They’d been injecting something luminous into the carcasses and didn’t want it to leak out.”

“The chemical?”

“No – the story” he replied. “Three burly men approached and stuck one of the glowing needles into me. I dimly remember being taken down into a laboratory of some kind and when I woke up I was in the basement of what was Outpost Bendaton in our world but was a trendy Department S themed discotheque in this reality.”

“So that’s why you never phoned me…”I began. Suddenly I realised what I’d said and proceeded to turn the whole pitiful ramble into one rolling cough. I even took a sip of water to add verisimilitude. “Why have you now created your own web of mayhem and intrigue? Why the killing and the plotting and the general evilness?”

“Partly because I was trapped in another dimension, wronged by people and hell-bent on revenge and partly because I discovered it is much more fun. I got a taste for power when I used to bully you at Outpost Bendaton but now I’ve discovered that being a baddie is much more fun. I set up the exotic meat factory as a way of trying to replicate the chemical they injected into me. That is, I believe, the key to getting home.”

“We can help you get home” I said, playing for time.

“…and once I’ve opened a portal between realities, I’m going to detonate the exotic meat factory’s nuclear reactor and set off a chain reaction which will destroy everything in both worlds.” He began laughing maniacally.

“Have you got a toilet?” asked a worried Ian Devine. “I would settle for a bucket and a little privacy.” Ian Devine trotted off behind a bush when no bucket was offered.

“Where did you get the money to fund this ghastly plan?” asked Wicks.

“This is a marvellous world. Full of quality television – drama, comedy, documentaries, science fiction – it’s a viewer’s paradise. They’ve never even heard of reality television, makeover shows or quizzes which only exist to humiliate the contestants.”

“It sounds wonderful” I agreed.

“So you can imagine the money I made selling the formats of reality television, makeover shows and quizzes which humiliate their contestants to the television networks of this dimension. I’m rich beyond my wildest dreams.”

“Then why do you want to destroy both this world and our own?” demanded Grantham.

“I don’t know really – it seemed like a good idea at the time. I was full of rage and pain and misery – the usual thing.”

“Then don’t destroy the worlds. Let them exist as they have always existed. We could set up a new life here with all the quality television…” I suggested. “Together” I mumbled as an after thought.

“Unfortunately it’s too late for that. I’ve already primed a nuclear device to go off in about an hour, shortly after a portal is opened. It’s amazing what an awful lot of money can do.”

“But… but… but…” I stammered. “You can’t let Dennis Brent die – think of the subscribers of Mucky Devastation.”

“But the beauty of my scheme is that they’ll be dead too – no one need ever be unhappy again.”

“Woolly thinking” said Grantham. “You’ve reckoned without Brent’s Seven.”

“Who?”

“Us” he added meekly.

“Hahahaha” laughed Brian Creswell. “I care nothing for your pitiful opposition. What can you possibly do to stop me?”

“Where do you think Ian Devine has been these past few minutes?” I asked, triumphant.

“WHAT?” Brian Creswell turned in horror and saw Ian Devine emerging from the exotic meat factory, licking his lips and dabbing his face with a napkin.

“Does anyone have any water? That nuclear reactor was rather salty” he beamed.

“You’ve saved the world, Ian Devine” we chorused. Brian Creswell went the colour of a red jumpered man in “Star Trek’s” red jumper.

“Noooo – it can’t end like this” he growled.

“You’re too late, Brian Creswell, and you’ve made the fatal mistake of underestimating Ian Devine.”

“He has, Dennis Brent, he has made the fatal mistake of underestimating me.” Ian Devine burped and a little cloud of green radiation puffed out.

“How did you bite through the metal? Are you Jaws?”

“Not at all – I’m Ian F. Devine. And I didn’t bite anything – I swallowed it whole.”

“Ah ha” cackled Brian Creswell. He pulled a small black box from his pocket. It had one big red button on it. His thumb moved towards it.

“What is that?” I demanded.

“If the reactor is in one piece inside that man” he pointed to Ian Devine with a slightly bitter finger, “then this detonator will make it explode.”

“That sounds even worse than indigestion” blubbed Ian Devine.

“Do you feel lucky, Dennis Brent?” asked Brian Creswell, a maniac stare in his reddened eyes. “I’ll teach you for shunning my affections. In ten seconds your best friend is going to blow us all to kingdom come and nothing in the world can stop me now…”