'I didn't know you weren't supposed to use soap when shaving electric；' Pooley plained。
'Who was it？'
'Also me。'
'Then you will understand my reasoning that if there is one man capable of ruining； whether through chance； method or design； any piece of electrical apparatus with only the minimum of tampering then that person is you； James Pooley。'
Jim pushed in the florin and the video screen burst into colour。 'Lift off；' he said。
'You have to use the thrust booster to get optimum lift；' said Raffles Rathbone； prancing on his toes and pointing variously at the throbbing machine。 'Gauge the inclination of the saucers； if you count to three and fire just in front of them you can bring them down。 Every third one is worth an extra hundred points； keep to the right and they can't。。。 ' His voice trailed off as Omally dealt him a severe blow to the skull。
'Silence；' he said； 'Jim knows what he's doing。'
'I don't；' wailed Jim； wildly pressing buttons and joggling the joy stick。
'You're not here to win； Jim； only to break it。'
'Break it？' Raffles Rathbone renewed his frenzied dance。 'Break the machine？ Oh； barman； barman； there is sabotage going on here； do something； do something。'
Neville smiled benevolently at the dancing youth。 'There is nothing I can do；' he said。 'All the patrons have a right to play the machine。 Don't be so selfish。'
'Selfish？ This is a conspiracy； I shall phone the brewery。'
John Omally； a man to whom the word tolerance meant about as much as the rules of backgammon； snatched up the squirming malcontent by his badge…covered lapels and held him high at arms' length。 'We don't want to go threatening the management now do we？' he asked。
'Ooh； I got one；' said Pooley suddenly。 'Blew him right out of the sky。 And there goes another； Bitow。 There's a knack to it you see。'
Omally let the dangling lad fall from his grasp。 'Any sign of damage yet？' he asked。
'I'm damaging their invasion fleet； look that's a hundred points； got the mother ship； you score double for that。'
Omally looked on in wonder。 'e now； Jim；' he implored； 'try harder； apply a little more force。'
'I am； I am； there； took one straight out； you duck away to the side then； they can't get you there。'
'That's it；' said the fallen Raffles Rathbone。 'Count five from the last saucer across and the scout ship es straight； down； you can get five hundred for him。'
A look of dire perplexity appeared upon Omally's ruddy face。 'Jim；' he said earnestly； 'what is happening here； Jim？'
'Nice one；' said Raffles Rathbone； 'when you get up to one thousand points you get an extra man。 There； you got it。'
'No sweat；' said Jim Pooley。
Omally turned away from the machine and stalked over to the bar。 Neville met his approach with a face like thunder。 'What is all this？' the part…time barman demanded。 'Treachery； is it？'
Omally shook …his head ferociously； his honour was at stake here。 'Psychology；' he informed Neville。
'Oh； psychology is it； well silly old me； I could have sworn that he was enjoying himself。'
Omally smiled a sickly smile and tapped his nose。 'Leave it to Jim；' he counselled。 'He knows what he's doing。 Wins over the machine's confidence； probes its defences； finds the weak spot and Bitov！'
'Bitow；' said Neville giving the Irishman what is universally known as the old fisheye。 'Bitow it had better be。'
Omally grinned unconvincingly and ordered another pint。
Bitow Bitow Bitow Bitow Whap。。。 'What？'
'Aha；' yelled Raffles Rathbone； 'forgot to tell you about their strike ships。 They got you that time。 Care for a game of doubles？'
'Certainly；' said Jim； 'last to ten thousand gets the beer in。'
'You're on；' said the lad。
Omally hid his head in his hands and groaned。
At ten…thirty Neville called time； just to see what might happen。 As ever the response was minimal。 A few lingering tourists； up to enjoy the tours around the derelict gasworks； upped and had it away in search of their coaches； which had left an hour before。 But by the local colour the cry was unheeded as ever。 John Omally； whose face was now contorted into an expression which would have put the wind up Rondo Hatton； sat upon his barstool sipping at the fourth pint of Large he had been forced into buying himself during the course of the evening。 Jim Pooley had spent the last four solid hours locked in mortal bat with the ever…alert invaders from the outer limits of the cosmic infinite。
For his part； young Nick had never been happier。 He had borne the old slings and arrows of outrageous fortune regarding his involvement with the videotic projection of the alien strike force for a goodly while。 To be teamed up now with Jim Pooley； a man he had for long admired； gave him a definite feeling of invincibility。 Together they would score maximum high points and get the mystery bonus。 'Get that man；' he yelled； dancing like a demented dervish。 'Give that lad some stick。。。 nice one。'
Pooley paused at long last to take breath。 His neutron bomb release finger had the cramp and he was beginning to suffer withdrawal symptoms from his self…imposed spell of drinklessness。
'I must rest now；' he told Rathbone。 'I heard our good barman calling for the towels up and the habits of a lifetime cannot be set aside in a single evening。 I am called to the bar。'
'You are a mean player；' said the boy admiringly。 'It has been a pleasure to do battle with you。'
'You have the edge by virtue of practice；' replied Jim； 'but I'll give you a run for your money tomorrow lunchtime。'
'You're on；' said Raffles Rathbone。
When Jim found his way to the bar counter he was somewhat astonished by the full extent of Omally's hostility。
'What in the name of all the saints； including even those who have recently been given the big 〃E〃 by the present papacy； do you think you are up to？' the Irishman asked。
Pooley was unrepentant。 'Psychology？' he suggested。
'Psychology？'
'Yes； you know； win over the machine's confidence； probe its defences； find the weak spot then Bitow！ Whose round is it？'
'Yours；' said Omally； 'Irrefutably yours。'
'I got fifteen thousand two hundred and one；' said Jim proudly； 'personal high score； take a bit of beating that。'
'Your head likewise。'
'It's in the wrist action；' Pooley continued informatively； 'and you have to know the sequences； once you know the sequences you can go for the high…scoring ships and simply dodge the lower ones。 It's simple enough once you've sussed it out。'
'You're mad；' said Omally。 'You were right about the X…rays； they've burned out your brain。'
'Wrist action；' said Pooley； drumming his killing finger on to the bar。 'One； two； three； Bitow； move to the left； Bitow； Bitow； Bitow。'
'I will kill you。'
'Tell you what；' said Jim； 'I'll give you a game of doubles tomorrow。 Nick will be here and he can give you a few pointers； ydu'll soon pick it up。 Last one to two thousand points gets the drinks in； what do you say？'
Omally buried his face in his hands and began to sob plaintively。 Pooley finished the Irishman's pint for him。 'You couldn't spare a couple of two…bobs； could you； John？' he asked。 'I just thought I'd get in another game before we go。'
10
Small Dave peeled open a packet of frozen filet mignon amoureuse and oozed it into the cankerous baking tray which had served his family for several generations。 Turning the enamel oven up to regulo six； he popped the gourmet's nightmare on to a vacant shelf and slammed shut the door。 This having been done to his satisfaction； the dwarfish postman slouched over to his sawn…down armchair and flung himself into it。 He was not a happy man。
It is a sad fact that those unfortunates amongst us who are born lacking certain vital parts； or possess others to over…abundance； have good cause to bear grievance regarding their lots in life。 Those blessed with the lucky humpty back； those who perpetually bump their heads upon the undersides of road bridges； or are capable of walking beneath bar stools without stooping； tend to feel that the gods have dealt with them rather shabbily。
Small Dave was one of this unhappy crew and he played the thing up for all it was worth。 He took kindness for pity； the friendly