"Matt, what's going on? Who's been blowing up our oil supplies?" asked Chris as they walked in to find Matt in a surprisingly cheerful mood.

"Don't you know?" joked Matt.

"No - why who is it. Why would anyone want to blow up some oil tankers? I don't understand," said Dave.

"Me neither," added Chris.

Matt couldn't resist it. He'd been drinking to his own success all day, and the mother's milk was getting to his head. He found himself in the position of knowing something than both Chris and Dave didn't. He found it most amusing.

"You really can't work it out?"

"NO! Matt, stop giggling and tell us what's going on. We can't operate without any oil. By the way, have you got a phone? I'm going to ring for a pizza," snapped Dave.

Jim, hearing the conversation from the next room, hurried in just too late to stop Matt. Matt grinned and blurted out, "It was me. Me, me, me! Ha - you didn't think of that did you? Well it was. I win. Go and find a new job. You're both so useleouch," broke off Matt, as Dave's fist made a somewhat unfriendly impact on Matt's jaw. Jim had had the sense to leg it the instant Matt started trying to be clever, so Matt was left stranded alone as a few more kicks came in.

Chris and Dave left him there whimpering, and trudged off back home to cry over spilt oil. They arrived back home to find a load of people had broken into their house, and had been eating all their food. Suddenly they realised they had lost. Matt may have been in a crumpled heap on his floor, but at least he hadn't been attacked by loads of hungry fishermen. They legged it to the pub.

Sam was having a fag at the pub when Jim walked in. "Matt's been a twat. He's just started a war between him and Chris and Dave. It's going to get ugly."

"With Matt and Chris and Dave? Ugly? Never!"

"Well if you want to stay sexy, then you'd better get out of here quick," insisted James. "Come on, where's Bert? Train leaves in an hour, back to York.

Sam quickly packed his things, and he and Jim and Bert got a taxi to the station just in time, before Chris and Dave came round, looking for support.

Chris and Dave weren't looking for support because they were round, for they were still stable, although their minds were becoming less so. They needed help to protect themselves from Matt's friends, but they arrived at the pub to find it deserted. They panicked, they searched for anyone to help them, they came to the point of a nervous breakdown, and then they noticed there was no-one to stop them helping themselves to the beer.

Three hours and 18 pints later, they thought they'd go home and order a pizza. When they got home, they climbed in through a broken window, and realised they hadn't really got much of a home left. It was then that they heard Matt's scream from down the road. They were in trouble.

Chris had a brainwave, and he and Dave headed for the store room. They had in there a huge wooden box, originally built to hold drums for University bands, but now used as a store for tins of beans. They bailed out, and soon had floor covered in beans, and an empty box. They jumped in and hid. After half an hour, Matt's gang had trashed the place, but had failed to find them in the box. Chris and Dave, hearing them go, jumped out and agreed they needed some food.

They sobbed as they forced themselves to eat cold beans out of the tin, as they surveyed the ruins of their home. Everything had been broken - the cooker, the microwave, the frying pan, even the taps for the oil had been demolished.

And so it was that Chris and Dave found themselves living in a big wooden box in Grimsby. They started taking drugs to get over the withdrawl symptoms of having to live without fried doughnuts. They had no money and no way of getting any. They had no home, apart from the box. They couldn't get a job, for the only thing they were any good at was frying, and that was banned. They couldn't remember how to do DIY, and no-one needs gig liaison reps. And worst of all, they could only beg enough money for a cooked breakfast every other morning.

(Matt never got the record deal he was looking for, but he remained ever proud of his guitar playing, and had many swooning girls listening to him. They were fainting from the heat, but it kept Matt happy. He lived happily ever after, except he did start getting pains in his jaw every so often.)

(Sam, Bert and Jim bought a new pub in York, and, after a period of cold turkey from the lack of fried doughnuts, had a good business going.)