The following morning, Dave awoke to find the place in semi-chaos. Chris had already got up, and was busy barricading the front door.

"The oil's not here, Dave, we're stuffed."

"I'm not stuffed, I haven't had any breakfast," replied Dave, "What's all the fuss about?"

Chris pointed out the crowd outside, "They're hungry too. We have no oil. We can't give them breakfast. They want to eat us instead," he panted in short sentences, partly so that Dave would understand them, and partly cos he was running short of breath from stopping hungry fisherman who wanted fried fish.

"We've still got some deep-fried mars bars and fried bananas left over from yesterday," suggested Dave unconvincingly.

"Yeah, and they'll need re-frying if they're going to sell today Dave," pointed out Chris.

"We could dry-fr..." began Dave before he realised what he was saying. "Why not tell them they can have free food tomorrow as an apology. It might work, and we can sort out the bloody oil delivery before then."

In the end they managed to convince the angry masses that they would be given extra tomorrow, and that they couldn't complain too much since it was their only hope of fried food, so it didn't do much good complaining. Somehow, this worked, and gave Chris and Dave another day to find some oil. Lots of oil.

They set off to see the supplier, to find out what was going on. They neared the building, after an exciting journey in Dave's fiesta (a grotty old car, but it had been specially designed to include a small kitchen in the back instead of the back seats).

The first sign of any missing oil was the oily trail they found. This didn't do them much good since it was the oily trail left by Dave's falling-apart car, but they used it to fry a couple of eggs anyway; they were a little bit discoloured, but neither of them seemed to mind that, or the strong 'flavour'.

Soon after they found the oil they were looking for. They found it round a corner, all over the road, which caused Dave's car to spin even more out of control than it had been with Dave driving it. And then they saw the tankers, all with large holes blown in their side, parked unhappily in the depot. Their hearts sank as they realised their precious oil was going down the drain; they felt as if someone had just told them they'd got labs the next morning.

So, with as prompt a decision as 'Let's go to Goodricke then', they decided to go and see Matt and find out what was happening. For if anyone knew about this underhand vandalism, Matt would; although they didn't realise quite how much he'd know.