A/N: Whose that girl with the update? OMG, that can't be 'Rose'? Ah yes it is :) After a loooooooong Christmas break I was able to update this. So much for this being a seasonal fic. I'll have to drag it out till next Xmas and finish it then. That's very likely actually. But before I get back to our boys on their carpet ride, I just need to say a few things that have happened since I last updated.

I saw the Boosh. TWICE! Once at Wembley with the forum girls and again at Brum with my LJ family. Wembley was absolutely amazing but Brum was something else. Not only was it great to see my girls but, when we swapped our tickets at the Box Office, THEY SAT US AT THE FRONT!! I saw Julian and Noel UP CLOSE!! AJWEFJIJIWAEJIE!! Aaaaand, I'm going to see them a third time with my LJ girls again in Notts because Lu (starsofandromeda) is Win! So this is part dedi'd to her. Honestly, I never thought I'd get to see them once this year, let alone three friggen' times! Wooot!

*straightens up* Ok now that's over, on with the fic. Can you please let me off on any slight spelling mistakes coz I was up all night doing this and I've checked through it loads but knowing me there's still slip ups somewhere :P

Disclaimer: Honestly, if I did own them, then I'd have been able to get on that stage with them and do things veeeerrrryyy differently.

"I can tell he's gonna be a joy."

"Give 'im a break. It's 'is first time."

"No it isn't. I've had to endure his big old arse crushing me at least three times before."

"Yeah but it's 'is first time with me doing the steering. I think even you were screaming the first time Naboo let me take control."

"Don't remind me. As long as he's not sick on me I've got no complaints."

"Why d'you think I didn't wait until after we'd had dinner?"

"I assumed that was due to the plan for your little date tonight, Vince."

"For the umpteenth time: it's not a date!"

"Sure it isn't."

"Oh just shut up and take us to Sydney, you Ikea mutant."

"Vince?…Vince?! VINCE!"

Howard's shaking my shoulders with such force my head's in danger of bobbling off. I bat his hands off me and turn to give him attention. What's up with the batty crease now? Don't he realise I'm trying to drive here? I tug on the two of the twelve gold tassels in front of me that I'd learnt controlled the altitude and acceleration. Now we were quite high up (high being the height of a travelling airplane) it was ok to slow down. Enough to stop the wind beating us in the face and messing up our…well, my hair. Surely anything it did to Howard's would be an improvement.

We'd taken off with a good jump start high into the sky. Howard had thrown his arms around my neck as if the carpet would've actually thrown him off with the force. Bless him, he really doesn't have a clue how this baby works. Mind you, I can't say I'm that much of an expert. Just don't tell Howard though. I have to let him be as confident in me as possible if I want him to stay with me on here tonight. Even getting on the carpet, back at the flat, the poor sod looked terrified. I know I could've taken the piss. Maybe if Naboo or Bollo had been around I might have. I didn't though 'cause Howard, as much of a coward that he is, he's still my mate. And he needed me to be a mate to that he could trust. That's also why I didn't mind him so much clinging to me as we rose into the air. In fact, I kinda liked that I'd made him feel safe. Well I have saved his neck enough times, but once we were in the air I had to remove his arms before he broke mine.

"What's a matter?" I ask, tugging another tassel to engage the auto-pilot for a moment before turning to the flustered looking Howard (nothing to do with the wind. He always looks flustered looking.)

"You looked like you were in some sort of trance. I've been calling your name for the past minute." He complains. I can't help but grin. Talk about the tables turning.

"Well I'm trying to concentrate here if you don't mind. This isn't as easy as it looks."

"You're just tugging a load of random strings."

"Exactly."

He shrugs, unimpressed. "So what's so difficult about that?"

"Do you know which tassels control which functions?"

Howard opens his mouth to speak but after about five seconds he closes it again. That's a 'no' then. I can't help but giggle. Not so much at his failure to reply but more so for how cute he looks with his jaw hanging open. Even more so when he closes it and crinkles his brow in a frown. He hates being made to look the dumb one in our little duo. He reckons that's supposed to be my place because I'm so ditsy. I am, to be fair. But that's just what makes it all the more fun to get one over on him.

We're now so high above the world that the clouds are more or less tickling our scalps. I could raise the rug to fly above them and keep us safely out of sight from any star-gazers. I should know, I'm usually one of them. I love to sit on the roof and just stare adoringly at the twinkling diamonds embedded in the mauve blanket above me. Not that I'd tell Howard though. Firstly 'cause he thinks I just like watching MTV if I'm in or just going out to a nightclub. It'd probably set his brain alight that air-head Vince Noir actually likes to just sit on the roof, look up at the sky and just think. Also, secondly, because I think he's to traumatised from the incident that happened between us last time we were on the roof to wonder as to why I'd like to go there again, let alone join me. So I just sit there alone, either in peaceful silence, or engaging in a retarded babble of a conversation with the moon. And - getting back to the point here - many a time I've sat with my head rolled against the chimney and spotted either Naboo or his Shaman mates on their carpets, gliding between the gaps in the clouds.

But I'm not to bothered if anyone down below does see us, as I take the controls again. Perhaps it will restore a few lost souls beliefs in Santa Clause, only now convinced that he's replaced his trusty sleigh for a Persian carpet and shot all his rein deer in order to feed his work force. I just don't want to go above the clouds yet because England looks so beautiful from up here. Just look! Well, you obviously can't look if you're reading this so in that case I'd say get your own magic carpet and take it for a spin. Then look down and you'll see what me and Howard are seeing now. It's genius! All those billions of lights from houses thousands of miles beneath us like fallen stars from space. I almost wanna put the brakes on and just hover for a moment whilst I trace my finger in between the lights to draw shapes like I do when I'm stargazing. I turn to look at Howard, to see if he's doing the same thing.

Surprise, surprise. He isn't. I sigh, rolling my eyes and pulling at the tassel at the corner of the rug.

"Gonna talk to misery-guts. Just switching to auto-pilot for a bit."

"Auto-pilot's on. Dunno why I say auto-pilot. It's not really auto-pilot, is it? It's just moi doing all the 'ard graft-"

The feminine voice rambling away gets quickly pushed to the back of my mind. With the carpet in safe hands of itself I turn around to face Howard whose sat in the very centre of the carpet with his knees tugged up as close as possible to him and a closed-off look on his stony face. Typical. The most romantic (of course I mean that in the exciting sense) way of travelling anyone can use and he looks like he's been forced to ride a camel with indigestion.

When he see's that I've taken my hands away from the steering, his eyebrows nearly shoot right off his forehead. He skids forward on his knees, still determined to keep as far away from the edges as possible.

"What you doing?! Why ain't you concentrating on the r-..sky?" He corrects himself, all set to have a heart-attack apparently.

"Would you relax?" I laugh him off, crossing my legs. "It's not as if we're in the middle of rush hour 'ere. Even if there are other people on the thermals, there's more than enough sky for all of us up here!"

"But what if a plane or a…eagle comes along and you're not looking - then what?!"

"Then Chandra will just dodge it!"

Howard frowns; "Chandra?…That's the carpet?"

"Yeah." Christ, he's so slow. "I wouldn't have thought she was a Chandra though. More of a Nichelle or a Kimberly. She says she likes Chandra though."

"It…she told you that?" Howard blinks frantically. He looks like he's struggling to contain a laugh.

Why does he always have to laugh at me all the time? Does he honestly think I'm just a bimbo?

I nod at his question anyway and don't let my face give away my hurt; "'Course she does. It's one of the first things you've gotta know when learning how to ride - 'cause you're only as good as the rug supporting you. That's what Naboo said."

"What d'you mean 'getting to know her'? She's a carpet!"

"Yeah but that doesn't mean she don't have a history. Y'know, she still had a place where she was made, enchanted, a birthday, previous trainers. Not to mention all the places she's been to. Once you get to know your carpet personally, the rest is pretty much a doddle. It's all about trust."

"Oh…"

A pondering look spreads over Howard's face, somewhat replacing the tense constipated frown he had before. I don't like it when Howard has ideas. They normally lead to either him or both of us about to be killed. Before I could open my mouth and tell him to forget whatever he was thinking of, he shuffled forwards to the front of the carpet, nudging into what had been my place at the 'driver's spot'.

"Well if that's the key to driving these things that it shouldn't to hard for me to learn either!" says Howard with a hopeful grin springing up in his cheeks.

Oh Shit. I should've known this was gonna happen.

I'm instantly on my knees; "Howard - no way!"

"If you're able to charm this old Sultan's curtain then it shouldn't be any problem for a pleasure diva like yours truly. I'll just use the same old Maverick magic!"

"Howard, I mean it! Just let me handle it-"

"Simmer down, chewy cheeks." Howard puts up a hand to silence me. He then faces the front and cracks his knuckles in preparation. "Sit back and watch the Power of the Moon work it's wonder!"

If Bollo was here right now I think we all know what he'd say.

Howard grips at two random tassels and already I have to slap my hand over my forehead.

"Right then, Miss. Chandra, hello. My name's Howard Moon, it's nice to make your acquaintance this Christmas eve. From now on you'll be under my control so I don't want you pulling any stunts. Howard Moon is not one to be messed about with. You'll do as I command because I'm the dominant one here, is that clear? Good! Now I'd preferably like to get to Sydney before New Years so let's quicken the pace a bit here, shall we? That's a good girl. C'mon, giddy up- AAAAAAARRRRGH!"

I remove my hand. Just in time to see a blur of tweed and beige mixed with a god-awful howl. Idiot.

The front of the carpet gives out a sharp buck that tosses Howard forward before I can even attempt to make a grab for him. He's sent flying forwards, headfirst, off the carpet and over the front with his hands clinging to the tassels that I'm amazed can hold his weight. His scream when he's thrown off drawls on to just become a high-pitched whimper. I scramble back to the front and peer over to see the fashion disaster clutching the tassels that are wriggling violently in his hands - presumably to still try and throw him off - whilst his face is scrunched up with terror, pathetic mewling escaping from his lips as he refuses to open his eyes to face the 30,000 ft drop beneath him. I don't know whether to combust with fear or let my sides split with laughter. My body obviously opts for the latter even if my trusty brain-cell doesn't.

Howard finally squints up to me just when I've got my hand over my giggling mouth. His eyes of sheer horror blaze into rage. I know I shouldn't be laughing….but, fuck it, if you could see his legs - as if they weren't funny enough on their own - when they're flailing about in mid-air it's just hilarious. What a spazz.

"Alright?" I ask with a grin. His eyes glower up at me, his teeth grinding painfully together.

"Does it look like I'm alright?!"

"Not really…Looks like I should ring up the weather channels and get them to report to risk of golden showers over East Anglia!"

"I could fall to my death and you're laughing at me?!" He spits savagely.

I nod, not even guilty. I'm only sniggering though. He should be grateful I'm not rolling on the carpet in a fit of laughter which is what I really, really want to be able to do. He frowns even harder and tries to pull himself up but the carpet is still resisting.

"There's no way I'm letting him on, Vince!"

"Oh c'mon, Chandra, you can't let him fall to his death."

"Sure I can. I've done it before to a number of arseholes who have tried to drive me."

"Howard didn't mean to be like that though."

"Did you HEAR how he spoke to me? Did you see how he…touched me?! That was so demeaning!"

"He doesn't know how it works with you. Give him another chance. Let him back on."

"He's a dickhead."

"I know but let him back on. Please. For me."

"Now what are you doing?" Howard whines up, still trying to claw himself back onto the carpet.

"I'm trying to get her to let you back on and not drop you to your splattered death, you freak." I tell him. He gives me another incredulous look but keeps quiet all the same. I turn my focus back to Chandra. "OK….Fine. That's alright….She wants you to apologize."

"What?" Howard reels back. The best you can do when clinging to a flying carpet with oblivion below you.

"Just say you're sorry for speaking to her like a horse."

"I didn't, I…oh fine then." Howard cringes and looks at the carpet. "I'm sorry for speaking to you like a horse, Chandra."

"Madame Chandra." I prompt with a smirk.

He glowers up at me. "…Madame Chandra then. Can I come back up now?"

I wait for her response. When it comes I feel another surge of laughter bubbling up in my tummy again. Howard sees the light in my eyes and his face drops.

"What? What did she say?"

My lip curls as I look at him; "She says you have to kiss all her tassels to make up for groping them like you did which hurt her. Kiss them better."

"Hurt her? It's a rug!"

The carpet bucked again, only slightly, yet enough to send Howard squealing once more.

"Ok! Ok! I'll do it." Howard conceded. I watch with growing pleasure as he pressed his lips against each of the tassels at the end of the rug. I shake my head. So sad how those lips of his are getting more action on a night with a few strands of fabric then with any other object or person throughout Howard's life. Such a shame really. Especially when you notice how supple and full his lips look. His bottom lip is so enticing. I bite down on my own, imagining - just for a split second - how his would taste.

"…Vince? Vince!"

I shake my head roughly.

"What now, Chandra?"

"I said; you can get him to stop now. This isn't as fulfilling as I imagined. He's an awful kisser."

"Oh 'e ain't that bad. Just needs a bit of practise is all."

"Says the voice of experience."

"…"

"Right. That's all of them." Howard sighs bitterly. He looks at me. "Can I climb back up now?"

I'm still not entirely finished. "What' the magic word?"

"VINCE-I-SWEAR-TO-GOD-"

"Close enough." I grip his hand and somehow manage to heave him back onto the rug. Chandra helps by bucking him up again. His arse is soon placed back on the foreign material. I watch him try and gather himself back together, jittering in his spot as if it were the coldest night of the year - which, to be fair, it is, but we've got the carpet heater turned on. He refuses to look at me anymore. I just shake my head at him in the same way a mother does to a child who falls of the bed and hurts his knee after spending ages ignoring his mum's orders to stop jumping on the mattress. He's learnt his lesson now, surely. That 'motherly' feeling stays with me as I move over and find myself about to hug his arm.

"Don't touch me." He snaps sharply and flinches away.

I'm then brought back down to earth. Or at least tens of thousands of feet close enough to it. Strange how he didn't say that when he needed my hand to pull him back up to safety. I sit back before I get a chance to comfort him. Not that I should. He was asking to be put through that with having, once again, to try and act the Big Man. I don't think he realises just how embarrassing it is. Not to mention dangerous. How many times have we almost died because of his need to fill his ego? Uh…one…five….eleven…Sod it, I'll count later.

Neither of us speak for a long while after that. We both just sit at different ends of the carpet, both with our knees pulled up to our chests, staring. Howard stares off over the side with a morbid sulk at the wisp of inky clouds passing us by, whilst I stare at Howard - waiting patiently for his mood to cool as it normally does after he gets wound up or has one of his dozen-a-day failures. I start to wonder if, just maybe, he's looking at the dark clouds that part to try and pick out shapes with his mind like we used to do. Honestly, we did! Years ago at the zoo. Not even that far back even. I think the last time we did it was the night we moved into Naboo's flat and we both sat up on the roof together with a bucket full of popcorn, our heads lolled lazily against each others, dark purple fluffy elephants, dolphins and kangaroos with boxing gloves floating above us.

I start to feel really rotten. The whole point of this plan was to give the two of us another night like we were back then. Only we're not snuggled up close to each other; we're sitting far apart and shutting ourselves off. We're not chatting and bantering away about silly little fun ideas; we're in complete silence. This isn't what I wanted. And I know it's partly my fault. I should've stopped Howard from making such a prat of himself. That used to be my constant mission of the day, every day. Howard was just never safe when left to his own devices. As much as he likes to think he's the brave strong pillar, it's me whose the one trying my best to protect him from himself. At least it used to be. When did I stop bothering and started to leave him to it to suffer for his ridiculous ways? When did I stop caring?

"Could cut the atmosphere with a pair of trimming scissors."

"Tell me about it…"

I need to speak. I'm always the first one to speak. It's like my job. Here it goes. Wish me luck.

"Howard?"

He doesn't reply.

"Howard?"

Nothing.

Third times a charm.

"Howard?"

This time he at least cocks his head to the side and onto his shoulder so his eye contact is further away from me. So he can hear me. Ah. We're playing that game now, are we? Great! I love it when we do this.

"Howard? Howard? Howard? Howard? Howard? Howard? Howard? Howard? .....HowardHowardHowardHowardHowardHowardHowardHowardHowardHoward-"

"What?!" He finally looks at me.

My lip curls in triumph; "D'you reckon the Queen has her own magic carpet?"

He stares at me with that look. The one where he basically doubts my being real. Oh, c'mon, that question wasn't as random as the one I asked about bananas and spider eggs, surely. Yet he looks set to boil as he glares at me. I just grin. 'E don't 'alf look sexy when he's angry. Fuck, that was a weird thing to think. But, hey, it's true. Anyone could notice it, I just happened to be here.

"…Well?" I poke him in the arm. He winces again, annoyed at his precious physical boundary being broken. I do it again and he bats my hand away. Then I can see it. A flash. If I'd blinked then he might have gotten away with it. But I saw it. It was there. A hint of a smile.

I shuffle just a little bit closer to him, still waiting for his reply. He sighs; "I reckon she must do. She is the Queen, after all, she's gotta have her own personal shaman on hand for emergencies. She's probably got six of them."

"D'you reckon we could go to Buckingham Palace and challenge her for a race? I reckon us on Chandra could whoop her arse. Now that'd be something for The Guardian, wouldn't it!"

Howard's smile grows slightly and he nods. That, in Howard body-language, is the equivalent of a human laugh, just so you know. Seeing a real laugh come out of Howard is about as likely as Bollo winning X Factor (considering he didn't even get passed the auditions…cor, that was a dark day). For now Howard wants to play the act that I'm just annoying him as usual. Distracting him from the important art of…staring into nothing.

"Howard?" Again it's down to me.

"Yeah?" I'm thankful he doesn't snap that time.

"We're gonna have fun tonight, y'know."

"Really?" He groans. "Just tell me when it will start then, Vince."

There he goes again. It's getting to the point now where I can't be arsed to keep trying with him. After all that, he's just shuffled back into the centre of the carpet, holding his knees and looking to the side at the passing clouds. I look over the side and peer down to see that we're now over water. The ocean. Don't ask me which one. I just know there are seven of them. Or is that seven seas? Is a sea the same as an ocean? Maybe I should ask Howard. But I think I've already used up my annoying useless questions of the hour. I'm only allowed to ask him two every hour and the other one I asked just before we closed up shop where I asked him why does the word 'lisp' have an s in it. Yeah, he didn't know either. He likes to act like he knows more than me but he doesn't. If anything, I'm the smarter one of the duo. Not book smart but street smart.

Wow, look at all the stars coming out. There's hundreds of them! They're all winking down at me as if saying "Wotcha!" in star language. I'd love to learn that. That must be how they all speak to each other. I wonder why there's more over this part of the world - wherever we're flying over by now - than in London. Is that much of a stupid question? Nah, I don't think so.

I ask Howard before I dare to think anymore of it. Thinking is such a waste of good social time.

He looks at me with his usual frown as if I've just asked another one of my pointless and random (at least that's what he calls them) queries. Then he looks up and around to actually notice what I'm on about. He blinks and his jaw drops slightly. Even his hold on his legs loosens. I can tell he's just noticed them properly as well as his eyes begin to twinkle. Cor, it's been ages since I've seen them do that. It sounds silly but, looking up, they really are so beautiful. I don't think either of us have seen the night sky this clearly before. Except that time we went to the Planetarium on a school trip. Though I think back then we spent most of the trip trying to escape from the cleaner's closet that some bullies from Year 11 had locked us in. I forget how we actually got out of there. I forget a lot of things. I would ask Howard but I'm still waiting for the answer to my last question.

"S'beautiful, ain't it?" I ask him softly.

His gaze is fixed to the cosmos. "Yeah, it is. Never realised it before…"

"Not even when we were there? When we were coming from Xooberon." I chide.

"I think we were both too busy regressing to notice anything."

"Oh yeah." I laugh, only faintly remembering that as well. I can just recall one minute drinking that water, then everything getting bigger, then suddenly going dark. That's it. See? I'm terrible. And that was only a couple of years back. "So why are there more of them here then over London? Stars, I mean."

Finally he looks at me; "There's not more of them here, Vince. It's just the pollution over London makes the smog thicker and blocks out a lot of the sky."

"Ugh. That's disgusting. Is that why you're always going on about recycling? I'm starting to get the point now. I don't want the sky to get even more gross so we don't get any stars."

"Well that's not really the main…Never mind." Howard forgets whatever he was gonna say next.

I frown at him; "Why do you do that?"

"What?"

"Why do you never try and tell me stuff?" Dunno why I'm asking. I know the answer. 'Cause he thinks I'm a complete dunce. That I wouldn't understand.

As I thought, Howard scoffs; "Vince, I'm always trying to tell you about this stuff! But you're always more interested in reading your little Enemy magazine and listening to Gary Sodding Numan."

"It's N.M.E, you nonce. Not Enemy." I laugh, making a mental note to tell that one to Leroy. "You really are such a loser sometimes."

"And there you go again." He snarls at me. "You wonder why I don't bother explaining things to you; it's because you act to much like a child all the time with your pathetic little insults."

"Uh, Vince?"

"I'd rather be a child then an old geography teacher bringing embarrassment to everything I touch!"

"Vince!"

"Don't start insulting geography teachers. I'll have you know I'm descended from a long line of great geography teachers. We're a proud dynasty, sir! From all over the world. Which helps."

"I know you are! You've always fit the part. I remember at school, if you ever walked into the class late, all our mates would go quiet coz they were waiting for you to start the lesson and get out your earth-ball."

"It's called a globe, you electro berk!"

"Whatever. Why didn't you follow your precious dynasty then?" We're really letting rip at each other now.

"Maybe I will. Maybe I'll pack my things and go back to Leeds."

"Vince, can you even hear me?"

I can hear her but I'm ignoring her, just for a moment. My stomach is tightening and gives a sharp twist as Howard lets out his threat. I don't even know by now if we're teasing or being serious. It's always a line in the sand with us. I'm never sure when or if we actually ever really cross it. Howard does look serious though. If he's serious then I'm serious. I'm not gonna be the one to let up.

"Fine then. Go back to Leeds. See if I care. I'm sure our band will get on better anyway. It's only me people look ever at on the stage anyway."

"There you go then! We'll all be happier."

"I'm sure we will, Professor." I sneer before cocking my head to the side, "Chandra, take us back to London."

"Get stuffed!"

I reel back.

"What?!"

"There's no way I'm doing all that journey again."

"…But-"

"Haven't you heard a word I've been trying to say to you? Look in front!"

I straightened up to look back again over the side. Before I can see anything clearly, other than the silhouette of land and lights appearing, I can only notice that we're going down. Then once I've noticed it I start to feel it. My stomach drops and I cling to the tassels to regain control. At some point in my panicking I let out a really girlish yelp. Except…it wasn't me. I turn my head back to see Howard now having to steady himself on the carpet, also feeling the drop physically.

He looks at me, his eyes ablaze. "I said take me back home, Vince. Not 'drop us in the middle of no where'! Sort this thing out."

"Don't start speaking like that or she'll buck you off again." I call aloud. Why am I yelling? Oh yeah, my eyes have just gone. That's bad enough of airplanes.

Howard gives me another odd look; "Didn't know you cared." He's also yelling now so his ears must have gone to. Not that they're actually gone, they're still on our heads, it's just that sound seems…thicker all of a sudden.

Of course I care. What is he, a muppet?

"I'm sick of this…Just take me back to London." He groans. His face goes all dazed and he looks like he's about to throw up. It's a good thing we're still over the sea.

I take another look over the side. I can feel the features of my perfect face lift as it hits me where we are. All the irritation and resentment I had for Howard barely a minute ago seems to have sod off. I burst into a grin and turn back to him. The carpet finally lowers to just hovering barely ten feet above the sea level. Howard leans over the side and releases some vomit to the poor sea turtles travelling below the surface. I cringe at the sound until the smell of salt water washes over me and refreshes my lungs-

Shit! My hair's gonna get ruined!

I look into the pockets on the inside of my cape (sewed them in after the Donny incident) and realise, whilst giving myself an internal kick in the head, that I've forgotten to bring a hat. I suppose I can pick one up somewhere along the line. My heart starts to race as I think of the salty breeze getting into my divine hair and making it greasy. Oh well. I suppose it can never look as bad as Howard's. I look over to him just as he's bringing his head up after spilling his guts to the poor travelling sea-turtles below. He sits back with his hand on his stomach and his eyes glazed over.

"Since when have you been sea-sick?" I ask him. "I thought it was airplanes that make you ill."

"I'm scared of flying, Vince, whether it's in an airplane or on a rug." His voice is still quite bitter towards me but not as much as before when we were high up and ready to toss one another off the carpet.

"You've never been sick on here before."

"That's 'cause we've always been with Naboo. I didn't have any reason to be afraid, did I." He tells me tiredly.

I frown, his words tumbling in on me. Naboo makes him feel safer than I do. He trusts Naboo more than he does me. How does that work? I'm his best mate. Sure we get in some freaky situations together but if anything I'm the one to get us out of them, not make them worse. Naboo doesn't even like him that much. Then again, Naboo doesn't really like anyone that much, though he still comes through for us when we need him. He's such a strange one.

Howard sits up, straightening out his ugly suit so it only looks like it's been crumbled at the bottom of a washing pile for two weeks rather than six. "So are going back to London then or what?"

"You sure you wanna go back to London?" I smile again, my eyes wavering to the sight rising over Howard's shoulder. Wow.

"Yes. I do. This was a stupid idea and I wanna go home. Nothing is gonna change my mind." He says firmly, completely obvious.

"You sure about that?"

"…Yes."

He doesn't get why my mood has changed.

"Really sure?"

"Vince, why the hell are you looking at me like that?" He cringes as if I'm giving him the 'rapist eyes' that are meant to be his trademark look. My lips twitch and I nod my chin up.

"Turn around."

At first he stares at me. Probably expecting me to 'do a Bainbridge' and burst into a rendition of Bonnie Tyler's Total Eclipse of the Heart. Then he turns around to look behind him. Somewhere along the ride, Chandra swirled and turned around so that Howard's end was the front. Now we're gliding through the air above the water of a large open harbour. A famous harbour. One that the both of us had only seen before on the telly. Howard doesn't turn his head back to me. He just keeps on staring. Sick of getting no reaction from the back of his head I shuffle forwards to sit beside him to view his profile. If the look on his face when he saw the open sky and stars earlier was a look of awe - then Jagger knows what to call the look on his face now. His jaw has dropped. His eyes wide to the size of almost a normal persons. Even his lips are twitching into a….no way! Is he actually gonna smile?

Christy. He does as well. Howard Moon is actually smiling. Properly! Not a repressed or reluctant smile. A genuine grin. My heart starts to flutter at seeing him so happy. Who can blame him? It really is beautiful. And who can blame me for being so chuffed at seeing him smile? He's so gorgeous when he smiles. I grip his arm again and, this time, he doesn't shove me off. He feels me touching him though and he looks at me. He's still smiling. We both are. Our eyes are both shimmering (well, his are. Mine always do so I don't need a mirror to check). The nearing city lights illuminate his face in an orange aura. It really suits him. We share a laugh, our previous row forgotten. What were we fighting about? Where we even actually fighting? Oh who cares.

Still hugging his arm, we turn our heads to face the scene in front of us again. Chandra takes us closer towards the harbour. The odd pointed building that I've always seen in snapshots of this place sits illuminated on the edge of the water in front of the dazzling city skyline behind it. The wind whips through my hair and I don't even care. Not that much anyway. Not so much that I vow to kill the wind. We're here. Sydney.

"Genius…" I breathe aloud. I feel Howard nod his head slowly beside me.

Something catches the corner of my eye. I look to the right to see another wonder, now breaking the surface of the water, that takes my breath away. I prod Howard's arm reverently, not wanting him to miss this.

"Howard, look!" I practically bounce, getting him to look in my direction.

Barely twenty feet away from us, a whale's back has cut through the water, rising majestically as the water cascades off it's smooth moist skin. I've never seen a whale this close up before. Not even the peanut whale we had back the zoo compares to this. Howard's also amazed by it, his face lit up once again with that familiar child-like wonder he used to have all those many, many, many years ago when we first met.

"Oh wow…" He gawps at it. Bet he's glad we didn't go home now.

"I'm gonna wish it a Merry Christmas." I say jovially.

He looks at me, "Vince, I know you can talk to a carpet but it doesn't mean you can speak whale."

"'Course I can. I've seen Finding Nemo."

"Yeah about twenty seven hundred times. You've nearly worn out the dvd-player the amount of times you've made us all watch it."

"You love it really." I grin, poking him again in the arm. He doesn't reply. Because I'm right. That's another one of our codes. I turn back to the whale just as his gigantic tail launches into the air, water streaming from it's edges, hanging perfectly poised in the air for a few seconds. I sit forward and cry out cheerfully: "MMmmeeeEEEeeeeRRRYYyyyy CcccCCCcchhhRRRIIIIIiiiiiIIIIISSSSsstttmmmMMMAAAAASSSs!"

"Vince!"

"What? I told you, I can speak whale."

"Yeah, but he might be Jewish for all you know." He points out.

"Oh yeah. Good point," I agree before looking at the whale again before his tail sinks out of sight, "HHHhhhhhaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaPPPppppPPPPYYYYyyyyyyY HHHhhhOOOOooooOOOOLLLllllIIIIDddDDAaAaAaAYYYYYSSSSssssSS!" Then I turn back to Howard. "Better?"

He stares at me for a moment. Then nods.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you how to speak whale someday." I promise, nudging him in the arm. We then both face the skyline again. "So where did you wanna go in Sydney then?"

"You're looking at it, little man."

I resist the deep throbbing want to melt like a tub nutella that's been sat next to a boiled kettle. Sorry. It's just I love it when he calls me that.

Then I realise what he's just said. Oh, he was actually saying proper words. I'm looking at it? But…that would mean…Oh! No. Way.

"Seriously?" I gape at him. "The…that pointy building?"

"It's the Sydney Opera House. And, yep, that's were we're going tonight, sir."

"Wow…!" The air's all but been taken out of me. "I can't…Wait a minute," I fall, turning to him, "We both hate opera. Why're we going there?"

"They host more than just opera shows there, Vince. There's about four different theatres and stages inside. And tonight there hosting a special themed night in the concert hall. A tribute to a selection of a certain genre of music and the most renowned artists of that particular genre. It's being televised, which is why I was gonna watch it on the box…but seeing as we're here."

"Cool," I say, only just barely aware of what Howard's saying. So I don't just get to look at the genius building - I actually get to go inside as well! Fantastic. I get to sit inside and watch….

Oh. Wait a minute.

I look at Howard. Why is he smirking like that? "Uh…weren't you going to watch some…." Oh.

The penny drops. "…No…No way, Howard. No! Please, no. No."

He has to be joking. Please, in the name of Bowie, tell me he's joking! He has to be.

~*~*~*~*

He wasn't joking.

Ten minutes later and we're on dry land again. Chandra is rolled up neatly and tucked inside one of the pockets of the inside of my cape (Naboo enchanted them so they have a sort of Tardis effect to them. If Howard broke his ankle or anything, I could probably fit him in one of them. It would just be a struggle pulling him back out amongst all the sweets and accessories I've already got stored in them). Now me and Howard are walking towards the actual front doors of the Opera House. In line to see, you must have guessed by now and screamed with terror as I did, a jazz tribute night.

Sweet holy mother Joan Jett. What did I ever do to deserve this?

I can already feel the icky jazz vibes pulsating from the place. Not to mention from the crowd of people - the crowd of Howard-ish people - who have turned up to watch the concert. My throat is starting to itch. I run my nails under my chin. It's so much warmer here than it was back home. I undo the knot around my neck and take off my cape, flinging it over my arm. All the jazz freaks turn their head towards me in confusion. I must stand out like a Nazi at Live Aid. However…there are a few people in the line with my style. Almost exactly my style funnily enough. Bright colors, cool hair, accessories...Strange. It's like a whole line of wannabe-Howard-and-Vince's. I run my fingers through my hair to check it hasn't been to damaged by the salt-water breeze. Luckily, it ain't to bad. Howard's looks a lot worse. Only that seems to just make him fit in more with his 'herd'.

He turns to me, a bounce in his step. Now that is scary. I'm the one who bounces. Howard never bounces. He's about as bouncy as a wrecking ball. He can't seem to stop smiling either. I dunno whether it's more down to the fact he's going to a jazz concert or that he knows I'm going to hate it. The almost sinister glint in his shifty ball-licking eyes makes me suspect it's the latter. I've tried to restrain myself from moaning to much but the irritation on my neck is getting worse.

"Oh, Howard, please don't make me sit through this…" I beg him. I'll get down on my knees (well, of course not, these jeans are vintage) if I have to.

"C'mon, Vince, you promised we could do at least one thing that I liked tonight."

"But jazz, Howard! Why does it have to be jazz? There's no way I'm gonna be able to stomach this."

"I'm sure you'll manage fine. We've played jazz funk together before."

"Yeah, and a bear almost disembowelled us. Not to mention that time that jazz cell got inside me. I almost died, remember? I don't think I've ever fully recovered, I…Howard?"

The light in his eyes had dimmed slightly during my sentence. Then I realise why. Oh shit.

"Oh, Howard. M'sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up." I say, feeling like a complete tit.

Howard shakes his head; "No, Vince, you're right. If you wanna stay out here, that's fine. I don't want you to risk anything-"

"No, Howard, honestly, I'll…I'm sure I'll be fine." Fuck. What am I saying? "And hey, I'm still alive from last time, ain't I? All thanks to the Man of Action. My hero, ey?" I grin sincerely.

Howard's smile returns. With a slight blush. "Don't mention it, little man. We won't watch the whole thing anyway, seeing as you've obviously planned more for the two us tonight."

"Yeah I have." I beam as my mind whirls excitedly.

"We'll just stay for the first half hour."

Oh god. Half an hour? That's like…five hundred minutes!

Howard obviously sees my discomfort already. He cocks his head to the side; "You alright there, small fry?"

"Yeah…Yeah, I'm fine. I can handle this. No probs."

"Maybe we should warm you up first. Just to be sure." He uses his weird sly voice. Or, as Leroy calls it, his Rapist Tongue.

I edge back from him; "What d'you mean?"

"Let's see if you can handle some…scat, shall we?"

My eyebrows hide behind my fringe. "What?…Y-you didn't say anything about scat-singing!"

"It's one of the key components of any jazz concert. Best to be prepared - Skip Bob Jugga Jugga Skeeeeee Bob Da Wooo Skeee Bop!" He's off before I can so much as put my hands over my ears.

Oh God. Not scat singing. I'll never forget trying to speak and having nothing come out of my mouth but that horrible nonsense jazz language. It was horrifying. I run my hands through my hair, edging further back away from Howard, who just keeps on scatting. Does he want to kill me?

"Skippedy-do-wap! Bow bow kapow. Skiddedly di dow. Skeeeee-Wa!"

"Howard, look, I'm fine. You can stop now."

"Ba ba ba, skee-wa-joo-wa! Boppedy-bip Bow!"

"Oh fuck…"

I try and run but he grabs my arm and flings me around, pulling him to his front. I try and wriggle out but, dear God, he is freakishly strong when he wants to be. I keep trying to escape but he keeps scatting away in my ear. "Dowwa Dowwa! Skee Skee Skadoo. Bippedy-bop jabba!" He's now laughing as well as he does. Trust Howard only to be able to laugh when he's torturing me with scat. I can't help but laugh to if only just to make it through the agony.

"Let me go, you freak. I'm all right!" I flail, kicking him lightly in the shins.

"You sure?"

He stops scatting (thank fuck). I expect him to let me go but he holds me tighter against him. Probably expecting me to run off, jump into the water and swim as far away as possible. I let myself to limp against him. "Yes!" I sigh. He still doesn't release his grip on me. My head rolls back against the crook of his neck. He's wearing cologne…I know that smell? He…he's wearing the cologne I got him last Christmas. The one I got special from Jean Claude Jacquette.

I look up to meet his eyes looking at me. It's remarkable how much his face has changed in just the past half an hour. To think what it was like before; the look that could've made Medusa scream with terror. His eyes are so much bigger now. So much warmer. Like his arms. His hold is so toasty and snug. I feel so small…and yet so safe. It almost feels weird when they finally drop me and my feet touch the ground - I hadn't even realised he was holding me up that much. We smirk at each other again before turning to face the doors to the Box Office to get our tickets (no doubt there'll be loads on offer). Some girls in the line who were dressed like me were staring at us…and laughing. If you could call it that.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Quarter of hour into the show and already I feel faint. The tribute act at the moment are doing some sort of resemblance to 'Jack Coustoe' or whatever his name is. I so underestimated this. The theatre itself is enormous and beautiful. I'd love to come here to see any other type of performance. Even an actual opera. Though, to be honest, I don't hate opera as much as Howard thinks I do. In fact, I once went out with a girl who dragged me to see Carmen with her…and I cried. I didn't have a clue what was being said or sung about but, for some reason, I was weeping like a baby by the end. Safe to say my date didn't contact me after that. Probably convinced I was gay. Also unimpressed that I used her dress as a tissue.

I'm not allergic to Opera though. Jazz is a whole different pair of Chelsea boots. There's no real melody. There's no continuity. It's just primal music shapes floating about randomly. It freaks me out. But I look at Howard and by his face it looks like he's just been given a blow job. He says he likes jazz because of the lack of rules and boundaries. How the hell does that work? A man as anal as him, who makes villages out of stationary and sections it all off, to enjoy a type of music because of it's 'freedom'. I swear I'll never understand him. It's kind of sexy though to be honest. He's such a mystery. Intriguing. I'm surprised girls don't find that attractive. Perhaps they would if they took a chance to see past the roll-neck shirts, jazz fixation and moustache.

One of the songs finishes (I'm surprised these things have beginnings and endings) and the crowd which fills only two thirds of the hall gives a round of applause. I give a half-hearted clap to be polite. If I was any less of a nice person I'd be heckling my tongue out. After clapping, I sit back and give out a sigh of relief that we must be about half way through our time. Howard stops clapping and looks at me.

"Still alive?"

I smile and nod, "Just about."

"You do actually look a bit pale there."

"I might just need to get some air. It's nothing."

Like I said before, I like it when he worries about me.

"…Look, Vince. You really don't have to sit through any more if you don't want to me. I mean it, you can wait outside. Appreciate the scenery, whatever. I don't mind."

"Nah. I mean it, Howard. I said we're gonna spend tonight doing stuff together and that means this as well. It's no problem."

"Seriously?"

"No, I'm out of here." I give in, getting to my feet. "I'll meet you outside when you're done."

He nods at me, rolling his eyes slightly. C'mon, did anyone actually think I'd be able to sit through a whole half hour of this? No? Thank you. I leave Howard to his precious jazz and am happy to be able to leave guilt-free. I don't have to squeeze through a lot of jazz freaks before I reach the doors and am able to walk out of that place. Free.

I have the leave the entire building to rid myself off the jazz vibes. I can feel them crawling all over me like when Bollo gets fleas and they catch onto me. Shuddering, I make a break for the nearest fire exit and take in an overlarge dose of clear air once I'm outside. It's really warm outside. I'm guessing it's Summer or at least Spring for the Aussies. Either that or it's just a lucky hot winter's night. Speaking of which, Howard had a hard time earlier struggling with the concept of how it was the same time in Australia as when we left England.

"It should be Christmas morning here, surely? Australia's about twelve, thirteen hours ahead of us." He'd wondered aloud. "And it only took us…what, half an hour to get here if that? How is that possible? We'd've had to have gone back in time…but that would mean we wouldn't have left the flat yet, how co-"

"Howard, we'd just ridden around the world on a carpet that flies - and you're questioning the time difference?"

He didn't ask about it anymore after that. Truth be told, I didn't really understand it myself. Hell, plenty of things happened to us that didn't seem to make any sense most of the time and we never questioned it. Life's too short. I mean there's that whole business with Howard not being able to play an instrument unless he wants the Spirit of Jazz to put his hand up his arse and wriggle him about like a puppet - and yet we play most nights in a band without so much as a post card from Howling Jimmy Jefferson. Then there's Howard claiming to be a virgin, even though everyone knows about what used to go on between him and Jack Cooper and Eleanor. Though maybe that's more down to Howard's definition of what a real 'virgin' is.

I'm glad it was still night though. I doubt this place could be as magical in the daylight. Shifting my hands in my jean pockets, cape still draped over my arm, I walk along the harbour towards the water. If there are whales around then maybe there's dolphins as well. Do they live together? Maybe I should've paid a bit more attention back at the zoo. Howard was right. There was so much more I needed to know. I wonder if we could ever go back to working there again. Probably not. I'm to adapted the Camden social scene now. It would be to hard trying to return to the animals I'd once felt I belonged with. That I grew up with. With just Howard by my side all the time instead of a swarm of fan girls and boys wanting to lick my shoes (I wish that was a metaphor). I can barely sit through a concert with Howard for more than a quarter of an hour.

But that wasn't to do with Howard. It was the jazz.

Wasn't it?

Of course it was.

Even though I wasn't looking at the performers. Or even taking in the music.

Most of the time I was just looking at Howard. Looking at how relaxed and at ease he was. Such a change to the twitchy, moody weirdo I have to put up with most of the time. Just looking at him eased my discomfort somewhat. I wasn't scared of the jazz as long as Howard was with me. He'd saved me before. Reluctantly but he'd still saved me. And I know he'd do it again if need be. Perhaps that was it. I felt weird and got all hot and stuffy because it was embarrassing the thought I needed Howard to hold my hand, figuratively, in order to brave it through. Maybe if he'd have properly held my hand then I…

Bloody hell. This Aussie air is really getting to me. I haven't been here an hour and already I'm home sick. Just shut it all out, Noir. Forget the jazz. Forget Howard. Just look at the pretty lights in the sky, in the city and reflected in the water.

Ah. That's better.

I really wish I'd bought a camera. The shot of Howard dangling over the side of the carpet was worth a gold frame alone. And the whale we spotted. And the skyline. No doubt with everything else I've got planned for tonight we're gonna need something to capture the moments. Unless we just rely on Howard to remember them all. I forget things. Did I already say that?

It starts to get a little bit chilly. I put my cape back around my shoulders. Then I think of when Howard held me. His arms really were so warm. I'd forgotten what they were like. I know I've never been allowed (apart from the odd occasion) to touch him but he's always had no problems touching me. He used to do it more when we were younger. He used to tease me with scat and tickle me like he did outside the Box Office, only he was more ruthless back then and wouldn't stop until I was in tears of laughter. He used to hold me for other reasons to. This may be hard to believe, what with me being the toast of Shoreditch, but I used to get picked on a lot in school for being…well, me. Girls loved me. It was just boys really. 'Course they picked on Howard to but he seems to have developed an immunity to it since he was really little. It used to get at me more. 'Cause I really wanted to be liked. But then I'd get my hair pulled and called a freak. Howard would find me sometimes sitting in an empty classroom at lunchtime, reading Teenbone whilst trying, and failing, not to cry. He'd come up beside me, just put his arms around me and suddenly-

"Oi, mate! Are you?…Oh my god, you are! It is you!"

My train of thought is lost when a hand claps down hard on my shoulder and spins me around. Some aussie guy in a suit is gawping at me with the same look I usually get from my fellow cockneys. The ones who wanna dry hump me usually.

"Uhm, can I help you?"

The guy, whose about mid-thirties with surfer style blonde locks, grabs me by the arms. "We were told you couldn't make it tonight! We've got a bloomin' jazz tribute fest in your place - don't ask us why. Oh Hogan's ghost, you're not gonna be able to do a whole set now. Can you just do a small feature? Loads of the audience are those who originally booked for your gig and didn't know about the change. So this is perfect!"

"Uhmm, I think-" Before I can finish with "you've got the wrong person." He cuts in.

"That's brilliant! You're a lifesaver. Ey, is your mate with you or is it just you?"

"My mate? D'you mean Howard?"

"Yeah, yeah, Howard." For some reason he uses air-quotes with Howard's name. "I'm a big fan of both of yaz. Wish you'd come down under more often."

I shrug. This guy obviously does want us then, "Well, y'know. We get so busy in London."And we don't get any calls to come to Glastonbury, let alone Australia.

"Now's your chance then as you're away!" The bloke slaps me on the back again. It hurts but I don't say anything even though my tongue is almost pounded out of my mouth. He gets out a walkie-talkie and speaks into it; "It's Martin 'ere. You'll never guess what! They've only just come on after all. The original act for tonight….Well, the girlish one is here anyway. He'll do?…Cool….Yeah, I know it's meant to be in the Drama Theatre but all the audience are in the Concert Hall coz it was meant to be a show….Yeah, ok." He puts the walkie-talkie away and grins at me. "C'mon, let's get you on the stage."

He now grips my shoulder and, before I can so much as struggle out of his vice-like grip, I'm being dragged back inside the Opera House. Back towards the jazz. Argh! Not again. What was up with this dude? He wanted me to perform? Me and Howard? He must have heard about us from one of our few fans in London. Never mind that most of - lie, all of - our fans are either missing half their brains, are just at our gigs to drool over me or are students who just like us in an 'ironic' way. This could be our big break. I needed to get to Howard…but this guy just kept dragging me along with him like I was some kind of suitcase.

"Uh, don't we need to get-" I start but he cuts me off again. Cor, he's rude.

"Don't worry. You're just doing a small bit. It's the stand-up bits of your show most of us love the most anyway."

"….Stand-up?" I stutter. Ok, he has got the wrong bloke. "Uh, I'm not a stand-up. I'm Vince Noir; Rock n' Roll star."

The bloke bursts into a fit of laughter as he pushes us through some private doors and down a long corridor that I don't think leads to the audience. He keeps a hold on me and looks at me with eyes of wonderment and….lust? Oh god no, not another one. I really need to get Howard and tell him we need to get out of here.

"You've got no idea how insane it is to hear you say that in front of me! You really are a legend. Go on, go out there and knock 'em dead!"

"But-"

He practically shoves me through yet another door and I fall into near total darkness. I gather myself up only to notice that I've not been shoved into a cell like I began to fear there for a moment. I'm backstage somewhere. A group of figures holding shiny brass instruments shove past me and a shudder moves down my spine. Eurgh. Jazz vibes. Even so, I was about to follow them back out the door when a stage-hand gripped my arm and turned me around to face her.

"C'mon, you're about to be called on!" She hisses at me. She then talks into her head-piece; "Yes, he's here. We've got him….Now? Ok." Then she focus's on me again. "Right. On you go!"

"I-"

She shushes me and pulls me along. Weirdly enough she's even stronger than the blonde guy who wanted to bum me. I really need to start going to the gym. She drags me to the side where I can see the stage itself before me. Empty. Awaiting me. What the hell am I supposed to do? I have to run. I can't-

A voice-over echoes through the stage. They explain the break for the jazz performers and apologizes to people expecting the planned show before. Then they say a name I've never heard of before and the stage-hand grins at me and gives me a thumbs up. Fuck. Was that name meant to be me? Was that who they confused me with? I'd never heard of him before in my life. I'm not him, I know that much.

I find my feet at last and am about to turn and run. The audience bursts into applause and a few cat-calls. The stage-hand grabs my arm and shoves me out onto the stage. I could still run but…they can all see me. The audience are all looking at me. Applauding me before I've even opened my mouth. The only one not clapping, not even to be polite, is Howard who I spot instantly. He's just looking at me, his face very slowly sinking with the realisation that it's me on the stage. Then he looks like he's wishing he had a shotgun.

The lights come down. The spotlight blazes down on me. Everything goes quiet. The applause dies. They're all waiting for me to speak.

I'm sweating already. Damn it, that light is hot. Why did I have to put my cape back on?

This is all wrong. I'm all for people looking at me and adoring me. But they won't be adoring me if I screw this up or tell them I'm not who they think I am. I'll just have to try. I've got no instruments. I can't just start singing. Anyways, they don't want a singer. They want a comedian. They want me to tell them jokes. Ok, I can do that…

What sort of jokes? What sort of humour did this guy I was supposed to be do? If he's that good then I must have heard of him but I ain't. They're looking at me. Howard's looking at me, his jaw hanging once more, only not in a good way this time. He wants to kill me. I've ruined his jazz night. Well I'm gonna be ruined myself if I don't say something soon.

Time is ticking along. I've gotta say something. What am I meant to do? Who am I supposed to be?

Who the fuck is Neil Folding?

A/N: Ok...I credit that last line to the hilareous girls on the Boosh forum (you rule). I should point out, for those weary of RPS, don't worry - Noel & Julian aren't gonna make an appearence in this thread. All will be explained. I just needed to get Vince up on the stage somehow and this seemed the best way.

Also I've never been to Sydney and I've never been in the Opera house or know how it works or even if they let comedians or jazz tribute acts on :P I'm just going by Wikipedia coz I'm lazy. But, hey, this is the world of the Boosh so let's just pretend in their world, in their Opera House, it's all ok.

And a belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone! Please give reviews, as they release me from post-xmas saddness.