I think some people asked for a sequel… okay, one person asked for a sequel… fine! I just wanted to write a sequel!

D/C: *sighs* The Mighty Boosh do not belong to me - they belong to all of us in the form of DVD's/ calendars/ posters/ books/ CDs…etc. But most of all, they belong to two people called Noel Fielding and Julian Barratt.

Where is Julian by the way? Does anyone know? According from Noel saying he's dead/ waiting for the fridge repair man/ half way up Kilimanjaro with his bassoon stuck in a crevice. (And if that's not a euphemism, I don't know what is…) but I'm 97% sure that he was joking.

Anyway… SEQUEL!

Howard knew he had an idiotic smile plastered across his face. He knew that he looked like a kid who'd eaten too many sweets. He knew that he was annoying his rather clingy, rather psychotically terrifying cellmate, Gregg. He knew all this but he didn't care.

"Why the fuck are you so happy?" growled Gregg.

"I'm getting out."

"Today?"

"In about ten minutes."

Gregg looked almost saddened by the idea and Howard shuddered. It's not that it hadn't crossed his mind that Gregg seemed to be infatuated with him but he'd tried to convince himself that any dubious acts Gregg had performed for him had only been because Gregg missed someone on the outside too. He'd guessed it might be bordering on obsession. He'd guessed years ago when he'd found hundreds of watercolours of himself stuffed under Gregg's mattress. ("D'you like 'em Howard? I drew 'em all for you. I call this one Howard Moon and I call this one Howard Moon and this one…" Suddenly, Gregg snatched the next picture away roughly. "Not that one. That one's for me. But this one, d'you know what I call this one?" "Howard Moon?" "No. I call this one 'Just Howard'.") Howard had wanted to know at the time what the mysterious picture was but as Gregg pulled it out from under his pillow now and handed it to Howard, he began to wonder why he'd ever wanted to see it.

"It's you." Gregg unhelpfully supplied.

"Yeah."

"Bumming me."

"Yeah."

"It's very accurate… there's you and there's me and there's the bumming."

"Mmm."

"D'you like it Howard?"

"Umm, not really Gregg, no."

"Oh. You know Howard, maybe you could punch the, the officer wh-when he comes along. Y-you just punch him on the nose and then you could, s-st-stay here with me for a while... or f-f-forever"

"No thank you Gregg, I've been waiting 10 years for this."

"Ten years, that's a long time Howard. World's changed, fashion's changed, worst of all people's changed. You got anyone waiting for you o-on the outside Howard?"

"I don't know." Howard answered honestly.

"M-maybe you should stay here then… with Old Greggory."

"Mmm."

"That a yes?"

"That's a 'Thank you no'."

Gregg continued to gabble the benefits of staying in the cell with him but Howard's mind was on something else, or, more specifically, on someone else. He'd thought about Vince every spare second he had and in prison there were lots of spare seconds for thinking. Howard hoped beyond hope that Vince would be there but he knew the kid fell in love too easily. Howard would be just a distant foggy memory by now, if he were even a memory at all.

He couldn't think about it for too long. The thought of Vince belonging to someone else got his short fuse to spark dangerously but he held it together. He only had five minutes left. Now, was not the time to lose it.

The time to move at a snails pace. The second hand on his watch quivering and not moving about four times before it finally succumbed to it's purpose and clicked once to show the passing of one measly second. Howard counted 302 of these excruciatingly slow seconds and then the cell door swung open and a warden barked;

"Moon. Time's up. Let's go."

Howard was marched straight out of the cell and was dimly aware of Gregg howling in the distance. He passed any number of criminals, blokes he'd known from before, blokes he'd got to know. A few who'd known him but that he didn't know. They'd been his favourite. The ones who'd heard rumours of the things he'd done. They'd scampered around like terrified rats and he'd felt like king. As he was taken past, a few of them mouthed something along the lines of;

'Can you get me a job when I get out of here?'

He just ignored them all and allowed himself to be taken away further from them and closer to freedom… closer to Vince? He picked up his stuff from the room and said goodbye cheerily to the warden.

"Don't get to smug Moon." smirked the warden. "You'll be back soon enough."

"I won't." Moon assured him.

"What? You going straight?"

"Nah, I just ain't gonna get caught."

And with that, Howard left, triumphant and free.

Just as he was internally congratulating himself on getting out on first parole, a loud car horn screamed through his subconscious. His neck snapped up to glare at the offending car. There, in the near distance along the long deserted road was a red Porsche, his red Porsche, gleaming in the struggling May sunlight. Or maybe it was gleaming from the dazzling light that seemed to shine from the young man sat on the bonnet.

"Alright Howard." called the accompanying voice. "How was the holiday?"

Howard smirked. "Get off the boot you fucker. You'll scratch the paint work."

"Wanker." grinned Vince, sliding off the bonnet lazily.

As Howard got close he could see Vince's eye, bluer than he remembered, his smile, more blinding than he remembered, his hair better kept than he remembered and he was older too but he was still perfect. He was always perfect. Howard held out his arms, itching for the embrace he'd craved for all those years. But it never came. What actually came was pain as Vince's fist connected with Howard's face in a nose-breaking crack.

Howard doubled over clutching his bloody nose shouting endless obscenities.

"That," said Vince pointedly, "was for agreeing to rat me out to the police… but this," he continued, pulling Howard in for a gut-wrenching, searing kiss that burned right through them both leaving them shivering as they broke apart. "is for taking the fall."

"Mm, well." Howard mumbled, his brain spinning in a baffled mess.

Vince leant his forehead against Howard's and whispered; "I love you."

"Mm."

"You bastard!" Vince shrieked, pushing Howard away. "I've waited ten years to here you say it back in person and all you can manage is 'mm'." Vince got in the car and locked the door.

"Alright, alright. I love you." Howard said through the window, pulling desperately at the handle.

'What?' Vince mouthed, pointing at his ear, 'I can't hear you.'

"I said I love you." Howard frowned, torn between wanting to smash the window and protecting his precious car.

Vince just shrugged and pointed again at the ear.

"Open the fucking door!" Howard yelled.

Vince opened the window so that the tiniest sliver of the real world could be seen and said; "Not until you say the magic word."

"Please." Howard said through gritted teeth.

"That's not it. I meant word-s. Three of them to be precise."

"I've said it twice now."

"Three times makes it real."

"Tough. Open the bloody door."

"No." pause. "Howard?"

"What?" was the irritable reply.

"Am I a statistic?"

"What?"

"Am I one of 10% you could spend your life with?"

"No."

"But you said that love wasn't real."

"I know but I didn't… look Vince, you're it. One in a million. I swear."

"I'm one in more than that."

"Yeah, but then the numbers get too high and you'd get confused." Howard smirked.

"Fuck you!" Vince retorted angrily but he failed to stop the grin that was creeping up onto his face. "Now, get in so we can get home." he unlocked the car and Howard clambered in to the passenger seat. "You've got ten years of making up to do, you better be feeling fit."