From a Livejournal meme:

> Give me a story of mine and an alternate set of characters: protagonists,
> antagonists, or bit-players. I'll give you at least a hundred words of a
> scene that could have turned out differently.

This scene, suggested by Vicky, is from a version of 'Trouble in Store'
where Jamie's Angels are replaced by Harry's Angels.

"What do you think?" Bettan asked.

Sarah boggled. "You're not serious! Talk about crimes against fashion --
that blouse would need the UN to appoint a special prosecutor. What on
Earth do you see in it?"

"I grew up on Skaro, remember? We had to make do with whatever we could
salvage from the nearest corpse." Bettan looked at the blouse again,
and shrugged. "Anyway, Vira said I shouldn't take your advice on
fashion. Something about 'Andy Pandy'?"

"Yes, I've got a few fashion catastrophes to my name. You could call me
an expert on the subject." Sarah poked at the blouse. "That's how I
know one when I see one. Seriously, magenta checks do not suit you. Ask
Harry if you don't believe me... Where's he got to, anyway?"

"Sorry about this," Harry muttered. "I've come over all drowsy. Can't
think what's the matter with me today."

He grabbed at a nearby bed for support, missed, and slid to the floor.
Leela bent over him and shook him, to no avail.

"Wake up!" she shouted. "This is no time for sleep!"

There was no answer. She drew her knife, glancing this way and that. If
it came to it, she was prepared to surround the two of them with a wall
of bodies. And it looked as if it would come to it: a double door
nearby slid open, revealing four of the store's warriors and--


"Medical assistance was called on this aisle," Vira said dully. "One
casualty to remove."

Leela raised her knife. "Stay where you are. If any of your demons
approach Harry, they will die."

Vira held up her hand. The four men came to a halt, in perfect

"We have only your friend's welfare at heart," she droned.

"Heart?" Leela spat. "If you had a true heart, you would not now be a
slave of this abode of devils. Or perhaps the weakness is in your--"

Before Leela could finish, something sharp stung her from behind. She
spun round; no-one was there, but a little way away a checkout
assistant was lowering a strange, plasticky gun. Feeling suddenly
light-headed, she reached round and down, felt her fingers close around
the dart sticking into her, and realised too late that her blowpipe
wasn't the only weapon of its kind in this shop. Already her vision was
blurring, and her legs felt numb.

With the last of her strength, Leela threw her knife. Her aim was true;
the cashier didn't so much collapse, as disintegrate in a shower of
purple liquid. But she had no time to celebrate her victory, as the
numbness surged up her body and a grey haze swirled before her eyes.

"Two casualties to remove," Vira's voice said, as if from an immense

John Elliott

Thinks: This is what a nice clean life leads to. Hmm, why did I ever lead one?
-- Bluebottle, in the Goon Show