Now, I paused quite abruptly when I caught this particular snippet. ‘Er, excuse me,’ I said, easing my way into the little knot of chatterers. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’

The chap who’d been speaking eyed me suspiciously. Which I thought was a bit of a cheek, considering that it was my party. He was young and pale and drawn and rather spotty. He wore a ragged T-shirt with the words ‘FAST AND BULBOUS’ printed on the front, grubby old trainers and baggy old jeans. I did not recall greeting him at the door.

‘What do you want?’ he asked, in a manner that could only be described as surly.

‘I overheard what you were saying about the Secret Government.’

‘But I’ll bet you don’t believe it.’

‘On the contrary, I do. But what I’d like to know is where you got your information from.’

‘Who are you?’

‘I’m the host of this party.’

‘Oh shit. Then I suppose you’ll be throwing me out.’

‘Why would I want to do that?’

‘Because I just sneaked in through a hole in the fence.’

‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘I don’t mind. I just want to know about the Secret Government. Who are you, by the way?’

‘I’m Danbury Collins.’

‘Not the Danbury Collins?’

‘The very same.’

I almost reached out to shake his hand. Almost.

For the benefit of any readers who are not acquainted with the name of Danbury Collins, allow me to explain that he is the famous psychic youth and masturbator, whose exploits, along with those of Sir John Rimmer and Dr Harney, are chronicled in the fantasy novels of P. P. Penrose.

And P. P. Penrose, as you all will know, was the author of the bestselling books of the twentieth century: the Lazlo Woodbine thrillers. Small world!

‘But what are you doing here?’ I asked the psychic youth.

‘I got a tip—off that something big was going to happen.’

‘And who tipped you off?’

‘I’d rather not say.’

‘Was it Lazlo Woodbine?’

‘I’d rather not say.

‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘But just tell me one thing. Do you think the Secret Government murdered the Doveston?’

‘No I don’t,’ said Danbury.

‘Oh.’

‘Because I don’t believe that the Doveston’s dead.’

‘Trust me,’ I said. ‘I’ve seen the body. He is dead.’ ‘Seeing the body doesn’t mean anything. People saw Elvis’s body, but Elvis isn’t dead.’

‘I think you’ll find that Elvis is dead,’ I said.

‘Oh yeah? So who’s that over there chatting up the singing nun?’ ‘Chatting up who?’

‘Oh no, it’s Giant Haystacks. I think my eyesight’s going.’ I peered in the direction of his pointing. ‘Ah,’ I said. ‘Precisely,’ said Danbury. ‘When you’re really really famous, being dead doesn’t have to mean that you actually are dead. Not if you re in cahoots with the Secret Government. They can arrange anything. Elvis entered a parallel universe in order to save mankind from the Antichrist. I thought everybody knew that.’

‘Yeah, right,’ I said. ‘Then just tell me this. If you’re wrong about the Doveston and he really is dead, who do you think could have murdered him?’

Danbury made a thoughtful face and stuck his hands into his baggy jean pockets. ‘Come over here,’ he said, beckoning me towards an alcove with a nifty elbow—gesture.

I followed him over and to my credit I hardly laughed at all when he smacked his head on an invisible suit of armour.

‘Now listen,’ he whispered. ‘If the Doveston really is dead, it can mean only one thing. That he defied the Secret Government. That they approached him, tried to enlist him, and he refused them.’

‘That sounds plausible. He was very much his own man.’

‘Well, that wouldn’t suit the Secret Government. They’re into total control.’

‘But who are these people who run this Secret Government?’ Danbury shrugged. ‘You perhaps. How would I know?’ ‘You know they exist.’

‘Everyone knows they exist. People just won’t own up to the fact. Look around you, what do you see?’

I looked around. ‘Lots of rich and famous people.’ ‘And how come they got to be rich and famous?’ ‘Because they’re more talented than other people?’ Danbury looked at me.

And I looked back at Danbury.

‘No, OK,’ I said. ‘Forget that.’

‘It’s all a conspiracy,’ said Danbury. ‘Everything’s a conspiracy. The only people who get on in this world are the ones with the right connections. And when original thinkers come along, what happens to them? Either they vanish without trace, or they get sucked into the fame system and end up turning out pap for their masters. They take the money and sell out.’

‘To the Secret Government.’

‘Ultimately. Most of them don’t know that. But actors can only work when they’re offered scripts and rock stars soon find themselves back on the dole if they play up too much.’

‘They all behave badly.’

‘Perk of the job. But the products they turn out are all strictly “safe”. They don’t invite rebellion. They don’t stir up the masses. They maintain the status quo.’

‘I’ve heard all this stuff before,’ I said. ‘Mostly from people who’ve failed to make it big.’

‘I’m not trying to convince you,’ said Danbury. ‘But let me tell you this: the one thing the Secret Government, or any other government, fears more than anything else is information. The free exchange of information. And with the World Wide Web and information technology, ideas can be passed around the world in seconds. And that’s why it’s all going down tonight. When the systems crash because of the Millennium Bug, there will be no more exchanging of information. Unless you own a carrier pigeon, of course.’

‘And you really believe that this is going to happen?’

‘We’ll soon find out, won’t we?’

‘But if it is true, then we should do something about it.’

‘And what would you suggest?’

‘I don’t know. Tell people. Get it all on the World Wide Web.’

‘It’s on the Web,’ said Danbury. ‘There are thousands of conspiracy pages on the Web. Many put there by the Secret Government to confuse the situation further. There is no way of stopping what’s going to happen. Well, there’s one way, but as that can’t be arranged, there’s really no way.

‘What would the one way be?’

‘Assemble all the members of the Secret Government in one big room and then blow the lot of them to kingdom come.

‘Not very likely.’

‘Although...’

‘Although what?’

‘Well, you’ll laugh when I tell you. But something really obvious has just occurred to me.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, it’s...’ Danbury’s right hand was moving in his trouser pocket.

‘Go on!’

‘It’s ...

Something whistled past my ear and Danbury’s left hand clutched at his throat.

And was that something a poisoned dart?

Well, yes of course it was.

And did Danbury manage to blurt out the really obvious thing that had occurred to him?

Did he bugger!