"That doesn't really go either, but if you wore these," Vince held up a pair of terrifyingly tight looking jeans, "they'd match...oh no, maybe not with those shoes. Here, try these ones instead."

They'd been at it for two hours now, and Howard had had more than enough. The boots Vince was now suggesting were the very same ones he had been wearing when this all started, the ones he had taken off before attempting to move.

"Vince!" Howard batted the hand holding the boots to one side and Vince flinched as though he had been slapped, "This is ridiculous. We could be there by now. It doesn't matter what you look like, I'm just going to put on something comfortable and go, okay?"

"Make me look stupid and I'll..." Vince's panicked eyes darted around the room, glancing over the piles of discarded clothing. Quick as a flash he grabbed a handful, dived behind the open door of the wardrobe and emerged three seconds later. Howard gasped in horror at the sight of his body squeezed into Vince's loosest pair of jeans, made very tight by being stretched over Howard's larger frame. One of Vince's designer t-shirts stretched across Howard's chest, not quite disguising the fact that the jean's didn't actually fasten. He wore white knee high boots, at least two sizes too small, and a bright pink hat. Vince grinned, "Make me look stupid, and I'll do this."

Howard froze, caught between the instinct to laugh and to punch Vince in the face. He settled for something in between. "Okay, so it's going to be like that, is it?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Howard nodded, "Well, if it's war you want, sir, you shall have it." He flung open the door of his side of the wardrobe, pulled out a pair of brown corduroy trousers and an orangey, floral patterned shirt, and started to put them on.

Vince couldn't watch. He turned around and stormed out of the room as quickly as Howard's feet in too small shoes would take him, collapsed on the sofa and crossed his arms across his chest in a kind of self-hug. Trembling with rage and exhaustion, he pulled his feet up onto the sofa and curled up in a ball. Tiredness and the remnants of shock threatened to pull him down into sleep, but he fought against it. He needed to remain alert in case Howard decided to sneak out in brown and beige. The jeans were uncomfortably tight, and something was digging painfully into his back. He reached down and removed the remote control from between the back cushions and threw it across the room, where it hit the wall with a satisfying crack and landed on the floor with the batteries missing.

The phone was ringing. Vince opened his eyes to find that the night was over and daylight was spilling into the room through the half-closed curtains. A blanket had been draped over his body and had somehow got twisted around him as he slept. He untangled himself and rushed to the other side of the room, moving naturally now, as though he had been walking in this body his whole life. Hopefully, he reached a hand to his face, and fought down a wave of disappointment as he felt that familiar moustache sitting above his top lip.

He picked up the telephone and answered it with a bleary hello, then grinned widely at the voice at the other end of the line.

Howard woke to his shoulder being violently shaken by a man who looked confusingly identical to himself. It took him a few seconds to remember what had happened, then confusion turned to irritation, "What?"

"Naboo rang."

Vince waved his mobile in front of Howard's face and Howard grabbed at it eagerly. "Naboo, thank God! Has Vince told you what he did?"

"What I did?" said Vince indignantly, "If you hadn't snatched it..."

"Vince, shut up, I can't hear Naboo."

Vince grinned, "That's 'cos he's not there, genius. He hung up before I came to get you."

"Oh." Howard pushed his covers aside and climbed irritably out of bed. He tried to check his watch for the time, but saw Vince's bare wrist instead. "Then why'd you give me the phone?"

"I didn't, you just snatched it off me. Again. What's with that, anyway? Is it your new thing? The Snatcher," He grinned, "sounds a bit dirty."

Howard sighed and handed the phone back, "What did Naboo say?"

"He forgot his charger, spent the whole trip listening to mp3s and wore his battery down. His mate doesn't have a phone, so he rang from a phone box. He says if we need anything we'll have to wait 'til he gets home."

Howard folded his arms and glowered at Vince, "And that was it, was it?"

"Well, no. He reckons Tony Harrison left if there as a practical joke for him and Bollo. Naboo thinks he can sort it out, but not 'til he gets home." Vince turned back to the door, "And I did ask him to come back early, but it's his mate's 643rd. Apparently that's a big deal on Xooberon."

Howard noted with some surprise that Vince had removed his hat, replaced his boots with a pair of Howard's slippers and hadn't yet shaved off his moustache or done anything drastic with his hair. Yet. "So in the meantime, what?" he asked, "we're stuck like this?"

Vince nodded.

"Great, just perfect." The tone of his voice led Vince to believe he wasn't quite as happy as his words implied.

"It's not that bad, just a weekend. Surely you can cope for two days."

Howard didn't like the way Vince was smiling, it was a little unnerving. As though having got over the initial shock, he was ready and excited to explore the world of Howard Moon, and there were things Howard didn't want to share. Not only that, but how had Vince managed to recover so quickly? He was Howard Moon, man of action, he could adapt to every environment, any situation. So why was is that this still had him so utterly phased?

There was no time to answer the question though, Vince was practically jumping up and down with anticipation. "What do you want to do first? Breakfast? I think we've still got some of that cereal with the flavoured sugar lumps in it, lets have some. I wanna see if you really don't like it, 'cause I don't get how that's possible. And you'll like it now, since you've got my mouth and everything, so you can finally try some."

Vince bounced through the door, leaving Howard with little choice but to follow.