Meanwhile Peanut Brittle, after chatting to punters standing outside the pub, paid them a cheery good night before climbing back into his car, gritting his teeth and patting his gun on the front seat. Lessons need to be learnt, serious lessons, and he was going to be teacher. No one would dare accuse Peanut Brittle of thinking in clichés.

Rick O'Shea was in the uncomfortable position of being alone with Marianne Ketch. It's wasn't that he disliked her as much as everyone seemed to, it was just that usually she was fairly cold and distant with him, and that's what he was used to. He had definitely been under the impression that she didn't like him, that she didn't like anyone, not even her husband. But as he tried to avoid her gaze, he realised that she was smiling at him and there was something strange about her eyes. In fact the last time he had seen that look was from a pair of crossed-eyes in the laundry room. Surely not. Perhaps she had been drinking. Perhaps she was in shock. Whatever it was, something had changed about her.

"Alone at last" Marianne said, clumsily laying her hand on Rick's trousers. "I've seen the top half all uncovered" she said thrusting a finger into his ribs. "I wonder what the bottom half looks like", suddenly and overeagerly leaning in to kiss him and head butting his withdrawing nose.

"I hope Marianne's all right" said a fretful Keith, looking around the group for a little reassurance.

"It's that boy I feel sorry" corrected his mother, who was glued to a repeat of Baywatch Nights. "If there's anyone in danger out of the two of them, I'd say it's him. Mark my words".

Peanut Brittle moved stealthily into the empty hostel living area eye trained on the barrel of his gun. Climbing the dark stairs, he saw a light from the far end of the corridor, and creeping along the corridor he could distinctly hear the tremulous bass of Barry white coming from within. He took a breath, steadied himself, and kicked the door open to find a naked beach bum on top of some old redhead.

"Victor Peach?" he demanded.

"No!" yelped Rick O'Shea seeing the huge gun, pulling the covers up to his neck for protection, whilst trying to nudge a snoozing Marianne Ketch awake.

"Yeah. Well, you're coming with me anyway" Peanut ordered, cocking his gun.

Victor's side of the invasion seemd to have gone better than he could have possibly expected. Victor arrived to find Max and his gun relegated to the toilet once more, leaving the rest of the base unguarded.

"Ha ha!" celebrated Victor Peach, springing into the front room with hiking poles waving threateningly. "Now we've got you!" he said, staring particularly at Deborah.

"Hello landlord. Good pub quiz by the way" Keith congratulated Victor, which unbalanced him a bit.

"You!" Deborah's eyes flashed. "You've got a bloody nerve showing your face, after what you tried to do to my business!"

Victor was incredulous. These were not the shocked and guilty reactions he had justly anticipated.

"My bloody pub was all but burnt down thanks to you!" he raged at Deborah, pointing a hiking stick squarely at her.

"That's nothing to do with me! I only wanted rid of that bloody banner of yours! It was you that tried to have my kitchen smashed up."

"I did no such thing" said a protesting Victor Peach. "A broken window and a few laxatives in the food is all I said."

"Oh" mouthed Deborah as she glanced at the chow mein and then at Max emerging from the toilet. "I think someone put laxatives in your food Max".

"I think I'm over the worst of it" he mumbled patting his stomach appeasingly, before spotting the new arrival. "Victor Peach, early closing today, sir?"

"Chip pan fire" muttered Victor Peach, suspecting that this highly organised group of desperadoes looked more like a bible study group.

"Nothing serious I hope" replied Max, popping the cigarette lighter into his belt, suddenly embarrassed at its presence.

Keith Ketch certainly didn't appear so relaxed as Max.  "Where's my wife?" he demanded angrily of Victor. "You were down there with the rest of them. What have you done with her?"

"I'm here" snorted Marianne, wrapped in a sheet, followed by a naked Rick O'Shea – only hiding his most pressing source of shame with a DVD box called 'Exposing Your Soul' by Padre Ravi Widangwidang. Ushering them in was Peanut Brittle, gun in hand and unlit cigar in mouth, delighted to be back in charge.

"Hello gang" he greeted them with paper thin bonhomie. "Delighted to meet you all at last." The nice thing about having a big gun, thought Peanut, is that no one interrupted you...

"Marianne!" said a startled Keith. "What the....what are you doing without clothes...?"

"In case it's not clear enough" Peanut began, "They was having some nooky, when I came to soon...so to speak..." he chuckled.

"You utter bastard!" yelled Keith staring at Rick O'Shea. Then, in an instant, he grabbed Max's gun from his belt, pointed it at Rick and pulled the trigger.

Marianne was preparing to scream when she noticed that rather than ejecting a sppedng bullet, the lighter clicked and gave out a fairly pathetic flame.

"Oh, thanks very much" said Peanut leaning forward and lighting up.

Suddenly Chris Cubb jumped through the open front window shouted "Hit the deck", raised his paintball gun and fired a paintball at Peanut Brittle's groin.

"Fack!" yelled Peanut, folding over.

"Is everyone OK?" asked Chris Cubb heroically, slinging Ricks' paintball gun above his head and standing with legs apart. 'You're a bloody man, Cubbster' he thought, in premature self-congratulation.

An even higher-pitched Peanut Brittle looked up with blood-shot eyes. "I will be, but not you mate" he hissed, raising his gun and taking a half-focused shot at Chris Cubb. The bullet exploded from the chamber, and was only stopped from entering his chest by Cubb's outstretched hand, taking off two fingers.

The room fell dead with shock. Peanut Brittle, determined to set an example, straightened up and was about to finish off Chris Cubb when something else came flying through the window. Something small, black and metal. Something that belched smoke. "Oh bollocks" said Peanut Brittle. Just before losing consciousness, he reminded himself to vet those around him more carefully and give his cousin a sharp slap, as he had had now justified suspicions from the word go that that pillock who got an arrow in him was a copper.

The Results:

Garfield Maxwell Force – Six years imprisonment for multiple kidnap. N.B. Judge Justice Burnshaw allowed a reduction in the sentence due to mitigating circumstances. Namely, that the gun was actually a lighter and that having 'Garfield' as a first name must have caused Max psychological damage. This did not stop Justice Burnshaw making a quip about "an hour recess for lasagne".

Christopher Colin Cubb – Four years imprisonment for kidnap. N.B. Judge Justice Burnshaw said that such a light sentence was due to suspected partial consent by Mrs Gladys Ketch, the defence citing 'comfy sofas' as prime evidence of this. A further reduction was suggested following a Police Bravery Award for action aiding the apprehension of Percival 'Peanut' Brittle. Judge Justice Burnshaw got a proper laugh when he said he "might use a rubber gavel if it would make Mr Cubb more at home".

Richard Jonah O'Shea - Two years suspended sentence for accessory to kidnap. Judge Justice Burnshaw also ordered that O'Shea undergo psychological analysis for 'smiling too much' in the face of jail sentence.

Keith Geoffrey Ketch – Although initial investigation unearthed a possible attempted murder of Richard O'Shea, a charge by the potential victim was not filed and Keith went free.

Marianne Isabelle Ketch – One month imprisonment and a fine of £2,000 after being found in contempt of court.

Victor Terence Peach – No charge. Currently undergoing investigation for insurance fraud after a fire damage claim.

Deborah Mae Kwon  - No charge.

Percival 'Peanut' Brittle – Found 'not guilty' of kidnap, attempted murder, ABH, carrying of automatic weapons by a jury of his peers. A fraud and tax evasion investigation has been suspended due to the disappearance of evidence after a Scotland Yard fire involving an unattended chip pan.

And that was the end of the Tangle Bay War. Shorter and bloodier than the Anglo-Icelandic Cod Wars, with far fewer fish, but the actions of one day changed the destinies of an entire village. Peanut moved back to London and sent Fudge off for a long holiday in Tangle Bay. Keith used his month of peace and quiet to make some renovations to the guesthouse, organise his finances and catch up on his reading. Marianne joined him months later and seemed newly enamoured with her husband. Partly because of her time in a all women's prison without conjugal visits, and partly because, as she boasted to anyone who would listen: "My husband's a dangerous man. Attempted murder. Military background you see. Cold blooded killer he was". Victor moved away to Spain, eager to escape further investigation, where he set up a country club for ex-pats with his brother Michael. Deborah continued with her restaurant and enjoyed the loyal custom of Mrs Sharon Peacock, enjoying a boost after a televised visit from Gordon Ramsay. Rick O'Shea went back to college and studied criminal psychology, assured by a stoned friend that his name alone would garner him rapid promotion in whatever criminal psychologists did. Chris Cubb and Max Force eventually moved back to Tangle Bay and went back to their former businesses.

Viv turned the windscreen wipers on. Heathrow Airport in the rain was a pretty miserable sight, but fortunately, unlike cabbies, limo drivers got bacon rolls and hot cups of coffee, so it wasn't all bad in the big leagues. Unfortunately, today he was due to pick up a bunch of spoilt American girls – something to do with the Ambassador. He had moved from Tangle Bay two years ago, briefly enjoying a monopoly there after the arrest or removal of all other cab firms – but with the arrival of 'Fudge Sunday Cabs' the legacy of overly hostile competition remained in Tangle Bay. At least he got to see his son again, albeit once a week in the cramped front room of a terraced house under the furious gaze of judgemental ex-in-laws. Viv didn't really get a chance to get to know anyone in Tangle Bay, and so he hadn't kept up with news there. In fact, as far as he knew he hadn't seen anyone from there – except in the papers.

The backdoor opened and there was a bustle of bags and voices "So I was like, oh my God, Tiffany. Like, what are you thinking..."

Viv was tempted to put the driver's partition up and drown out the loud, teen American girl voices boring into the back of his head.

"I thought the limo driver was supposed to like open the doors and whatever..." one of them complained loudly enough so he could hear.

"Oh sorry" Viv turned to apologise, still stuck with cab habits. He had been warned about something called 'Gold service expectations'. He realised that the three designer labelled prom queens were given him stares designed to bring down light aircraft. This wasn't going well.

"You'll never guess who I had in here the over day?" he said trying to win them over with his recent new trump card.

"Like, whatever...I don't know" said one of them, looking positively insulted.

"That rapper guy. The one in the charts. AK Peacock" returned Viv, with a wink.

"You're shitting me!"

"Nope". That had done the trick.

"Oh my God!" chanted the girls in unison, and suddenly he was their closest friend and confidante as they screamed and chattered with delight.