“But,” I stuttered, “surely we don’t need passports? We’re still in England, aren’t we?”

“Hah! That’s what they all say! And I suppose you think you’re still in Yorkshire, too.”

“Um...”

“You have now entered the Ostensible Oligarchy of Od, and entered it illegally, I might point out.”

“Od?” I looked blank.

“Who’s this old geezer, then?” he went on, as if he’d only just noticed Dave.

“Er, I’m just the driver,” said Dave, sans smirk and ignoring the insult. Perhaps he didn’t know something, after all.

“He’s our Leader,” said Karen, dropping him in it.

“A Leader, eh? A Leader who isn’t prepared to admit it! Right! Park over there!” Dave complied, and we all had to get out.

“Corporal!”

“Sarge?”

“Take this man and lock him up with the rest of the so-called ‘Leaders’.”

“Right away, Sarge!”

Dave was led away, and we were on our own, with this sadistic sergeant.