Cheese Girl, Big Brother is concerned that you have trebled in size since you entered the Big Brother house. Seeing as you were the size of a corner shop even then, this means that all of the time some part of your anatomy is visible on every camera in the house.

Cheese Girl was still struggling to get into the diary room chair.

'Well it's not me nicking the food,' she said, trying to work out where her legs were. She shifted her arm and, from one of the many folds that enveloped her armpit a couple of wedges of mature cheddar slipped out and landed in her lap.

What are those, Cheese Girl?

'Nothing. It ain't me nicking the food, right?'

Cheese Girl, Big Brother has recent evidence that you have smuggled a large quantity of cheese into the house.

'No I ain't!'

You bought three large suitcases and have yet to change the clothes you were wearing on the day you entered the Big Brother house.

Cheese Girl pulled herself up in the chair and shouted at the camera. A bag of Mini Babybels popped out from beneath one of her chins.

'How did she get on here anyway?' said Bob.

'She's a celebrity now,' Colin replied. 'Class E.'

Yet again there were three loud, slow knocks at the front door.

'Oh, I can't concentrate with all this noise,' Colin exclaimed. 'Who in Oliver's Trousers could it be?'

'If you answer it you'll probably find out.'

Colin sneered at Bob. 'Okay, but this is the last time.' He scurried to the door and opened it to be greeted by Chief Inspector Spiggot of Scotland Yard.

'Inspector!' said Colin in surprise. 'How did you get down here?'

The Inspector gestured with some difficulty to the heavy diving suit he was wearing.

'Oh, well, come in, I'm sure Bob will be pleased to see you.'

The Chief stomped into the hallway and through to the front room, where he was greeted by Bob.

'Inspector! How good to see you, take a seat.'

The inspector shrugged and again pointed to his rigid suit, which prevented him from doing pretty much anything apart from looking like a complete fool.

Bob laughed. 'Humans! Useless, the lot of you. Even with another million years of evolution, I'll bet you'll all still need one of those things to survive underwater.' He gave the Inspector a friendly fish-slap with his fin. 'So what can I do for you, Inspector?'

On the front of Spiggot's diving suit there was a large pouch. He reached in and pulled out a laminated sheet of paper. Bob and Colin read it together:

'Wendy?' said Bob. 'I thought that was a woman's name.'

The inspector flipped the laminated sheet over.

'So what were you supposed to be called?' asked Colin.

The inspector returned the sheet to his bag, then pulled out another. It had just one word written on it:

Bob and Colin looked at each other in confusion, but before they could ask the Chief Inspector the obvious question there was another knock at the door.

'Two visitors in one day!' said Colin. 'That's a new record.'

It turned out to be the postfish, who took one look at Chief Inspector Spiggot and almost had a laughing heart attack.

'What the bloody hell is that?' he cried. 'It looks like a human's head in a gold bird cage, perched precariously on top of a gold statue of a headless human. I've never seen anything so ridiculous in all my life!'

The Chief Inspector scowled, though the effect was lost because his forehead and eyebrows weren't visible, so it looked as if he was just squinting. He flipped over the card he was holding and showed to the postfish:

'He he he,' the postfish laughed. 'Not down here you're not, mate. And certainly not in that ridiculous costume.'

The Chief Inspector flipped the sheet over again and showed it to Bob and Colin:

'Yes, he does seem to be a bit of a half-baked concept,' Bob said, guiding the postfish out of the door. 'He's probably only in this story for the purposes of extending the feeble joke about all the pre-written notes in your pouch. I mean, that last one had three sides!'

The Chief Instpector flipped over the note he was holding:

'Lead the way, Inspector! Bob the Fish is back, and - who knows - maybe even Colin could help a bit this time.'

Later, Bob, Colin and the Chief Inspector emerged from the gloop of the River Thames in London. Two days after that, the Chief finally got out of his diver's suit. He detached and emptied his Baxter's Supa-Portapotty^TM into the water and scrubbed it clean with it's useful integrated series of brushes. Once he'd finished, he took out a piece of paper from his back pocket, opened it out and showed it to Bob and Colin:

'Er, Chief Inspector,' said Colin. 'You don't have to do that anymore.'

'Of course I don't!' Spiggot exclaimed. 'Bob, Colin, to Downing Street!'

'Are you coming Chief Inspector?' Bob asked.

'No, Bob. My orders were just to give you the message. Anyway, it's my birthday today so I'm going home early.'

'Oh, congratulations!' said Colin. 'Do you think there'll be a surprise waiting for you when you get home?'

'Not unless someone's burgled my flat,' Spiggot replied. 'I live on my own. Anyway, you two get to the PM fast! The world is depending on you. I'm off to Sainsbury's now. There's a special microwave birthday meal for one with my name on it. It comes with a free party popper!'

Outside the PM's office his secretary gently tapped at a keyboard. Bob and Colin sat and waited to be called in to see the Prime Minister.

'This is a bit boring, isn't it?' said Bob. 'Just like politics.'

The secretary continued to type at her computer and occasionally adjust her glasses.

'She's not really typing,' Bob whispered. 'She's pretending to look busy.'

'How do you know?' Colin replied.

'It's what all secretaries do. Look, she's pressing the same keys over and over. In a minute she'll go to the filing cabinet and take some papers out, then she'll look at them and put them back again, then she'll close the filing cabinet and sit back down again and press the same keys, over and over again. Then at the end of the day she'll go home, take her glasses off and plug herself into the power supply for eight hours. Then tomorrow she'll start all over again. It's what all secretaries do.'

Colin tapped Bob on the head a couple of times.

'Ow! What are you doing?'

'I think your brain's come loose again.'

The intercom on the secretary's desk buzzed.

'Yes, Prime Minister?' said the secretary.

'Miss Oyster-Chops, could you bring in my seriously concerned face please?'

'Certainly Prime Minister.'

Miss Oyster-Chops stood and opened up a cupboard behind her desk. It was full of red leather-covered boxes. She took one out and carried it into the Prime Minister's office.

'Weird,' said Bob.

Miss Oyster-Chops soon returned and ushered Bob and Colin into the PM's office, closing the huge double doors after them. The PM was sitting behind an expansive desk, on which important looking pieces of paper were strewn. He rose and approached Bob, wearing a seriously concerned expression on his face.

'Bob, Bob the Fish, we meet at last,' said the PM, shaking Bob by the fin. 'And you must be Kevin the crab,' he added, nodding towards Colin.

'Actually it's - ' started Colin.

'Pleased to meet you too Prime Minister,' Bob interrupted. 'I hear you have a top secret mission for me.'

'That's right,' said the PM, returning to his desk. He picked up a piece of paper and handed it to Bob. 'It goes without saying Bob, and Kevin, that this is top secret.'

'But there's nothing written on this except "Top Secret",' said Bob, flipping over the paper in his fin a couple of times to make sure he hadn't missed something.

'That's right. This mission is so top secret that even I don't know anything about it.'

'So who does?' Colin asked.

'No-one, Kevin, not even my wife. It's really that serious.'

'But I don't understand,' said Bob. 'What do you want us to do?'

'That's not for me to say, Bob. Suffice to say, if you do nothing, it could mean the end of the world.'

'But - ' Colin started.

'My secretary will take you down to the basement, where you'll meet our top science boff. He's got a few things for you that might come in handy on your mission. Good luck Bob! And who knows, Kevin might even help a bit this time.'

'Er, thanks,' said Bob.

Down in the basement beneath Downing Street, Professor Spatchcock-Chicken, the Government's number one scientist, worked in his secret lab. A number of white-coated scientists performed experiments at their benches while the Professor showed Bob and Colin around.

'Did the PM give you all the details you need about the mission?' the Professor asked.

'No.' Bob replied, 'he didn't tell us a thing.'

'Top secret eh?' the Professor replied, tapping the side of his nose. 'Excellent. The PM was right to trust you Bob.'

'Do you know anything about it Professor?' Colin asked.

'No. I know even less than the Prime Minister. It's simply my job to furnish you with the gadgets I hope will assist you on your endeavour. Take this for example, one of my oldest but most useful inventions. The gun pen! An ordinary, functioning pen. Put it in your top pocket, take it out, write with it, just like a pen. But instantly turns into a gun, allowing you to shoot your unexpecting victim in the knees, or the elbows. Anywhere you like in fact, it's up to you. You might need a couple of those.'

'It's just a gun with a biro sellotaped to it,' Colin whispered to Bob.

'Just be careful not to shoot yourself when you're writing a letter,' the Professor continued. 'That's happened a couple of times, unfortunately.' He picked up a conical flask full of an electric blue coloured liquid. 'This is my truth potion. Good stuff this, I'll show you how it works. Let's put a couple of drops into Henry's tea and wait for him to return to his bench. Ah! Here he comes now.'

A squat, unkempt man approached them. There were a couple of dry bogeys stuck to his chin.

'Hello Henry,' said Professor Spatchcock-Chicken, 'I was just showing a couple of my friends around.'

'Oh,' said Henry, 'Hello.' He nodded towards Bob and Colin before sitting at his bench.

'Tell us Henry, what did you do yesterday?' the Professor asked.

'Oh, yesterday? Nothing much really. I just went out on my yacht with my beautiful girlfriend. Did I tell you she's a model? We just relaxed and drank champagne all day. That's not all we did of course, but best not to go into detail,' Henry laughed.

'Of course not,' the Professor chuckled. 'But Henry, your tea is getting cold!'

Henry picked up his mug and gulped down the contents. Instantly his face froze and his eyes glazed over.

'Now, tell us Henry, what did you do yesterday?' The Professor repeated.

Henry answered in a flat, robotic tone of voice. 'Nothing much, really. I was alone in my bedsit all day. I ate a whole box of Cheesy Wotsits and watched the omnibus edition of EastEnders in my pants.'

'Excellent! Carry on with your work,' said the Professor, guiding Bob and Colin to another bench.

'This stuff is very useful,' said the Professor, picking up an aerosol can. 'Looks like a fairly ordinary can of deodourant, doesn't it?'

'Yes,' said Colin. 'It does a bit. Never heard of that brand before though.'

The Professor laughed. 'Yes, that was my idea. It's a bit of a joke really, because one spray under the armpit induces instant rectal prolapse!'

'Instant what?' Bob asked.

'I'll show you. Let's try it on Henry,' said the Professor, beckoning Henry over.

'Henry!' said the Professor, 'how good to see you again. How is your day going?'

'Not very well,' said Henry, who was still under the influence of the truth potion. 'Everybody here hates me.'

'That's true, but there is a very good reason for that.'

'Is it because I put my hands in my back pockets and scratch my bum when people are talking to me?'

'I'm sure that's partly to blame, but the main reason is - ' the Professor started.

'I eat pig brain and spinach sandwiches for lunch? Or is it - '

'No! Henry, you stink!' the Professor interrupted.

'I do?'

'Yes, and very badly to boot.'

'What do I smell of?'

'It's the kind of smell you'd get if you squeezed the contents of a dead rat into an empty Cheesy Wotsits packet and left it out in the sun for three years. It's so pungent we can smell you from the moment you leave your house.'

'But I live twenty miles away!' Henry protested.

'That just goes to show how powerful your stench is. In fact, I think you should have a good blast of Whiff-Away right now, before all my nose hair falls out.'

'Okay, thanks,' said Henry, taking the can from the Professor and giving it a good shake before applying it.

The sound of the aerosol was accompanied by a curious bubbling and squelching sound. That in turn was followed by a nasty bottom smell. Henry stopped spraying. Colin held his nose with a pincer.

'Something wrong Henry?' Professor Spatchcock-Chicken asked.

'Yes. The contents of my large intestine seem to have leaked out into my underpants,' Henry replied. 'I think I should visit the toilet without delay.'

'You can go later,' said the Professor. 'I might need you again in a moment.'

Henry returned to his bench. His walk was slow and less assured than it had been a minute before. Every few steps he stopped and shook a leg.

'You best take a couple of those,' said the Professor, guiding Bob and Colin to another bench. 'This is one of my personal favourites,' he said. 'The exploding cheese knife! Looks like an ordinary, every day cheese knife, doesn't it? However, as soon as it comes into contact with cheese it explodes.'

'That's clever,' said Bob.

'Yes,' the Professor replied, 'ideal if you find yourself in a cheese-based situation with an enemy. I know, let's try it on Henry!'

The Professor took out a wedge of cheese from the bench drawer, then beckoned Henry over and handed him the knife.

'Henry, old chap. Would you mind cutting a piece of cheese for my friends?'

'Yes I would,' Henry replied. 'I'm a scientist, not a waiter.'

'You're a bad scientist, so do it anyway, otherwise I'll sack you. Before you do though, we're going to stand in the far corner of the room with our hands over our faces.'

'Okay,' Henry huffed.

Once they were in place, Professor Spatchcock-Chicken shouted to Henry to go ahead. As soon as he touched the cheese with the knife it exploded, throwing out shards of metal. Henry, after a surprised pause during which red patches blossomed all over his white coat, fell to the floor. The Professor returned and nudged him with his foot.

'See,' he said. 'Very effective. You best take a couple of those.'

'He's dead!' said Colin.

'Don't worry,' said the Professor, 'there are plenty more Henrys where he came from. I clone all my staff. Now let me show you the best gadget of all!'

The Professor lead Bob and Colin out into another room where, under subtle and seductive lighting, there was a sleek white sports car.

'Wow!' said Bob.

'This is the Lotus Spam-Magnet Turbo, with a few modifications courtesy of yours truly, of course,' the Professor chuckled. He threw a set of keys to Bob. 'Good luck Bob the Fish! And Colin too, of course.'

Bob and Colin loaded the car with the various gadgets the Professor had given them.

'Can I drive?' Colin asked.

'Maybe later,' said Bob, climbing into the driving seat. 'Next year, perhaps.'

Colin tutted and got in the other side. 'Look at all these buttons!' he said.

'Right, where to then?' said Bob.

'How should I know?' Colin answered. 'We've still got no idea what this is all about.'

'Oh well. No point sitting here, we might aswell go somewhere.'

Bob drove the car out of the room, up a long, winding ramp and out into the sunshine. After driving around aimlessly for half-an-hour he parked up. For a while he and Colin sat together in silence, looking around in vain for any kind of indication as to what to do next. Then without warning, Colin jumped out of the car and scurried to a phonebox. After completing a quick call, he returned.

Bob gave him a quizzical look as he climbed back into the car. 'Who did you call?'

'Oh,' said Colin. 'Well, it's just that I'm none too happy that the Professor is cloning and killing Henrys. His activities are really quite nefarious. So I told the authorities.'

'Well I hope that doesn't have any kind of negative repercussions, Colin.'

'Yes, now I think of it perhaps I shouldn't have given them my name.'

'Yes,' Bob replied, drumming his fin on the steering wheel.

'Well, now I've set up the next story we might as well go home I suppose,' said Colin. 'There's nothing else we can do.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' said Bob.

'But we're missing Celebrity Big Brother!'

'Who cares about that trash?' said Bob, puffing up his chest. 'This is the big one Colin, don't you understand?'

'Don't you start! What's the big one, for Oliver's sake?'

'I don't know, but we're going to find out. We're going to New York!'

'New York! Why?' Colin gasped.

'You've seen all the films. Anytime anything bad happens, it happens there.'

'?'

'A meteor is heading towards Earth. It's going to hit New York. A rogue tornado, the biggest the world has ever seen, goes astray. It's going to hit New York. Aliens attack Earth. They go straight to New York. A huge badly animated gorilla escapes from a huge badly animated zoo, where does it end up? Top of the Empire State Building, New York. Dinosaurs are bought back to life on a remote tropical island, they find a fleet of abandoned powerboats, learn how to waterski and head straight to New York. That's the place to start! We can talk to Chief Madobee, he owes us a favour after we caught the Fish Lady.'

'It was me that caught her.'

'You certainly helped a bit Colin, but it was me that lured her into the trap.'

'Shame you didn't tell me the plan first.'

'Anyway,' said Bob, ignoring Colin's comment, 'we can't sit around here doing nothing. There's a planet to save, let's go!'

Bob started the engine and pulled off.

'Turn the radio on Colin,' he said. 'There might be something important on the news.'

Colin flicked a button on the dashboard. A rumbling sound began to rock the car.

'That's a bit loud. Turn it down!'

'Whoops,' said Colin. 'Bob, I don't think that was the button for the radio.'

The registration plate on the back of the car flipped open, and a small missile shot out of it. Without discrimination, it snaked it's way along the street until it came to rest inside a Jack Russell.

Colin looked out of the back window to see a woman standing in the middle of a zebra crossing. Wide-eyed, her mouth agape, she was clutching a dog lead which ended in a pile of smouldering soot.

'Did we hit anything?' said Bob, slamming his tailfin on the brakes.

'Probably best just to keep driving,' said Colin, trying another switch. His seat sprang up and he was catapulted through the sunroof. He landed next to the lady on the zebra crossing.

'You blew up my dog!' she screamed.

Colin began to receive a good kicking from the lady, who just a few moments before had appeared to be quite sane. Bob reversed up and, after giving Mad Dog Lady a quick fish-slapping, returned him to the car.

'I'm done for Bob,' said Colin.

'Don't worry Colin, we'll have you patched up in no time. Just don't press any more buttons.'

A short while later Bob and Colin sat in the stationary car while it slowly filled with water.

'It won't start,' said Bob, twisting the key in the ignition.

'I'm not surprised,' Colin answered.

'It's leaking too. Press some buttons!'

Colin pressed one of the buttons on the dashboard. The radio came on.

'Oh, that's where it is,' he said.

'This is stupid! Come on, car, start!'

'Bob, can I ask you something?'

'Sure, go ahead.'

'Why exactly did you drive the car into the River Thames?'

'You've seen the film Colin. The car's supposed to turn into a submarine.'

'Not this one.'

'How do you know?'

'Bob, we've tried every button. The aerial popped up, with a Union Jack flapping from the top, a spare pair of pants shot out of the cd player and a bottle of champagne popped out of the glove compartment. Whatever this thing is for, it doesn't work underwater!'

'Oh well,' said Bob. 'It's a good thing we do. Let's go!'

Three days later Bob and Colin were in Chief Madobee's office.

'Bab the fish! I'm I glad to see you,' said Madobee, shaking Bob by the fin. 'We all thought you were a stiff Bob, thank the Lord sweet baby Jesus Collins you're still alive.'

'What became of the Fish Lady, Chief?' Colin asked.

'After you gave her a good crab-snappin' Colin, we arrested her. Moyder one.'

'Did she fry?' Colin asked.

'It's a good question Colin, if a little insensitive. 'Fraid not, it's bad news. She had one hellvua defence attorney.'

'But what about all the evidence?'

'I know Colin, as butt-pain goes it's about as big as it gets. But apparently there ain't no law against killin' and cookin' fish.'

'What!' Bob cried.

'Yeah I know Bob. What's worse is we had to pay her compensation for wrongful arrest. We ended up givin' her a job here too, just to keep her quiet.'

'Well hello, little fishy-wishy,' said a familiar voice.

'The Fish Lady!' cried Bob and Colin in unison, as she walked into the office carrying a mug of hot coffee and a bag full of donuts (the same as British doughnuts, except they're ten times as big and have a different spelling).

'She's my secretary now,' said Chief Madobee. 'Makes a great cawfee.'

'And a fish pie,' said the Fish Lady, looking Bob up and down. 'Hey, didn't I cook you already?' she added. 'How - '

'Never mind that Isobel. This here's my friend. You find another fish to fry.'

'Okey-dokey Chiefy-Weefy,' said the Fish Lady before hobbling away.

'So what can I do for you, Bab?' said the Chief, dunking a couple of donuts into his coffee and stuffing one into each cheek.

'I'll get to the point Chief. It's the big one. We're here to save the world!'

'Phew,' the Chief whistled. 'That's one tall order Bab. From what?'

'That's the problem, Chief,' said Colin. 'We don't know! The PM gave us a top secret mission, but it's so top secret no-one knows anything about it.'

'We figured New York would be a good place to start.' Bob added.

'True, we do get our fair share of improbable earth-shattering events,' said the Chief, 'but since The Son Of Godzilla attacked the city it's been real quiet.'

'Quieter than usual?' Bob asked.

'Now ya mention it Bab, yeah.'

'Sounds suspicious,' said Bob. 'As if something big is about to happen.'

'Lincoln's sideburns Bab, you're right!' The Chief picked up the phone and barked into it. 'I want every man out on the street. All leave's cancelled.'

'What shall we do Chief,' said Bob.

'Protect the President!'

'Bob, this is getting stupid.' said Colin. 'We've blown up a dog, caused riots in New York and murdered the President of the United States and we still don't know what we're supposed to be doing.'

'I didn't murder him Colin, it was an accident. It's this bionic brain of mine, I think it's malflunctioning.'

'You mean malfunctioning.'

'That's what I said, melfactionating.'

'No-one's noticed yet anyway. He did that television interview afterwards, remember. I'm sure he'll still be able to run the country, even though he is dead.'

'I'm sorry Colin,' said a despondent Bob. 'For a while I thought this was the big one. We can't go back to the PM empty handed, can we?'

Colin paused for thought. 'Of course we can!' he said.

Back in the PM's office in London, Bob and Colin strode in to find Miss Oyster-Chops at her computer.

'Can I help you?' she asked.

'We're here to see the PM. Bob the Fish and Colin the Crab,' said Bob.

'Of course. The Prime Minister is expecting you. However, before you go in he would like to know whether this is good or bad news.'

'It's good news,' said Colin.

'Great news!' said Bob.

Miss Oyster-Chops pressed the button on the intercom on her desk and spoke into it. 'Mr The Fish and Mr The Crab here to see you, sir. It's good news.'

'Excellent,' came the PM's voice. 'Bring me my very pleased face would you, Miss Oyster-Chops, then you can show them in. No! Wait, make it my stupidly ecstatic face.'

'Certainly Prime Minister.'

Soon Bob and Colin were with the PM. Wearing a stupidly ecstatic expression on his face, he rose from his desk and shook Bob violently by the fin.

'Good work Bob,' he said. 'Do you have a report of your mission?'

'Yes Prime Minister,' said Bob. He handed over a blank piece of paper.

'This is superb,' said the PM, flipping the sheet over a couple of times before stuffing it into his mouth and swallowing it. 'We don't want that getting into the wrong hands, do we?' he added.

'Of course not,' Bob replied.

'I knew you could do it Bob. The country knew you could do it. I'm only sorry it has to remain a secret. No accolades or medals for either of you I'm afraid, just the satisfaction of a job well done and, I have to say, my own personal pride, respect and admiration.

'That's good enough for us, Prime Minister.'

'Well done, Bob the Fish! The world is a better place again, thanks to you. And Kevin, of course.'

'Thanks Prime Minister,' said Bob. 'It was nothing really.'