A/N: I just wrote a really long A/N and then the page crashed and I can't be bothered to write it again. Anyway. Another nocturnal update, possibly my last one for a while, cause my mum wants me to actually do some work, and that will make me tired. I will still update as often as I can though, I promise :) Also, enjoy this chapter :D

Disclaimer: Yep, I own the Mighty Boosh. That's why I'm sitting here writing fanfiction when I could just be directing an episode.

Vince's POV

I took my suitcases from the van and closed the door. There was a courtyard at the back of the building where people were milling about, and a garden beyond that. I could see smoke rising from a bonfire. I looked around for Alena, and eventually spotted her near the doors. Howard locked the van and we went over to her. It was good to see her again, since I hadn't contacted her for a couple of years. I put my suitcases down to give her a hug.

"You made it okay then?" She asked.

"Yeah, we got here fine." I replied. "Alena, this is Howard. He's my best mate."

"Hi Howard." They shook hands awkwardly, and Howard stayed quiet. I knew he wasn't very good with new people, so I changed the subject.

"So, this is where you live?"

"Yeah, this is… home, sweet home, I guess."

"How many people live here?"

"Oh… About twenty, I'd say."

"Is it divided into flats, then?"

"Um… not exactly. Look, come with me. I'll show you your room and the rest of this place, and I'll explain everything when we get inside."

"Alright then." I was starting to get a bit wary of how devious she was being. She also looked nervous, like she was scared of being found out. Even so, we followed her to the door.

"Oh, by the way, I'm sorry about the smell on the ground floor. It gets better as you go up." She opened the door, and sure enough, I was hit full in the face with an unholy stink. I heard Howard cough, and I covered my nose with my t-shirt. We ascended the stairs as quickly as we could, five flights, all the way to the top. Three doors led off a long landing and Alena led us through the one on the right.

"This is the last spare room we've got. It's not much, but hopefully you can get comfortable…" She trailed off. I could see why. The room was huge, about the same size as the flat we had just left. The walls were painted white, but there was graffiti scattered over them. The floor was bare concrete, covered in places with small scraps of carpet and the odd mismatched rug. A large easel stood in the centre of the room, and there was a single wooden chair near the grubby window. In the corner opposite the door was a camp bed and a mattress without a frame to keep it off the floor.

"Alena?" I asked. "What's going on here?" She sighed.

"It's kind of hard to explain." She said, sitting on some of the carpets. "And I want you to know that I'm only here because I have to be."

"Alright, fine." Howard and I sat opposite her.

"Remember I said that everything was a bit complicated money-wise?" I nodded. "Well, that's because we don't pay anything in this place. It's a squat. We're all here illegally. The point is, though, it's an artist's squat, so we have to sell what we do to get the money to survive. I'm sure if we had enough left, we'd pay the owners of the building."

"No you wouldn't." Howard said.

"Sorry?"

"I did notice the expensive smartphone in your pocket." Alena blushed and ducked her head.

"Yeah, okay, maybe not. But believe me; I was in the same situation as you. I got chucked out of my house, and Finley took me in."

"Finley?" I said, confused.

"He's kind of unofficially in charge. I checked that it was okay for you two to come here, so don't worry."

"So, if this is a squat, how come you haven't been thrown out of here yet?"

"Well, this used to be a big department store, but it was abandoned. They were gonna knock it down, but they never did. No one wants it, so I guess they thought it'd be okay to move in. And no one knows we're here."

"How do they not notice?" Howard asked.

"We don't use the front entrance, ever. So remember not to use that door. Everything outdoors is behind us, and the only thing that it's near is an alleyway. Nobody uses the alley because it's full of rubbish; you can't even get down there. All we have to remember is not to make too much noise and not to open the windows on the front of the building."

"And we have to remember all this." I said.

"If you want to stay here. Finley threw someone out last month for opening all the first floor windows."

"Oh. Great."

"Yeah. I know. Just try to see the positives. At least we have some roof over our heads. Do you want to look around now?"

"Yeah, why not?" We left our bags in the room and went back out onto the landing. We went into the room in the centre, where a man was sitting in the middle of the room with a snare drum, performing loud drumrolls. Alena waved to him and shouted above the noise:

"That's David. He's a drummer as well as an artist." The room was also full of abstract paintings. There was a curtain dividing the room into two, and we went over to the other side of the room, where another man was gluing plates to the ground and dribbling blue paint around them. Alena introduced him as Keelan, and told us that no one ever really knew what he was doing. We headed back to the left-hand room. There was a young woman with short blonde hair standing in front of an easel, her paintbrush in her mouth, looking intently at the man across the room without any clothes on.

"Okay, sorry, Jane, we're just passing through." Alena called. Jane didn't turn around. I didn't even look at the scene as Alena led us through to the balcony. I wasn't surprised to see that there was a woman sitting on the balcony smoking. What I was surprised at was the small girl standing on the arm of her chair, looking over the railing, and the toddler sitting at her feet playing with a small rag.

"Hello, Alena." The woman said. "Have we got new ones?"

"Yeah, this is Vince and Howard. This is Yvonne." We muttered greetings and Alena led us down to the next floor. We met more and more artists; Coralie and Peter, Jackson and Fiona, Ryan and Alec, Billie and Richard. I lost track of most of them straight away, and Howard looked just as bemused as I was. But we eventually reached the first floor. Alena said:

"There's no one on the ground floor. That's where the rubbish goes until we find somewhere to dump it. That's why it smells."

"Wonderful." There was only one door on this floor, and she led us through. I stopped in my tracks straight away. The room was enormous; it had a high ceiling with huge beams across, and the windows were huge. However, there was no light coming in, as they had cloths pinned over them. The room was lit mainly by red and blue spotlights shining on the massive paintings that were strewn all over.

"What is this place?" I asked Alena.

"There's a few people sharing this as a studio; me, Mathew, Jackie, and-"

"Me." A male voice came from behind us, and we turned to look. A man about my height stood in front of us. "The name's Finley. And you must be Vince. And…?"

"Howard." He held out a hand, which Finley shook.

"Nice to meet you. What do you think of the place?"

"It's… strange." Finley laughed.

"Of course it is. What do you expect? We're artists!"

"So am I, but not so… extreme."

"Well, I guarantee that after a few weeks here, you will be. I think you'll find that it… rubs off quickly." I smiled nervously.

"Yeah… well, I think we need to talk to Alena for a minute. 'Scuse us." I pulled Howard and Alena out of the room.

"What in the name of sanity is he?"

"He's just a person, Vince." Alena laughed. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know. But I'm telling you, I've met some creepers in my time, and he definitely applies for the title."

"Get a grip, Vince." She smiled. "He's alright when you get to know him."

"Yeah, I'd rather not, thanks."

"Yeah? Okay then. Listen, I've got a project that I need to finish if I'm going to eat next week. So you two ought to go and get settled in. You'll need to have something you can sell by the weekend too, or you'll be in trouble." She went back into the room and I heard her apologise to Finley for us. I shook my head and walked back up the stairs, followed closely by Howard.

"You alright?" I asked him.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He replied.

"I dunno. You and all these arty types, you don't normally mix that well."

"I think you'll find I'm a very artistic person, in a dark, poetic way."

"No way are you artistic. You've never done a drawing in your life."

"No, but I could start. I could start today, sir."

"Come on then. We've got to do some, let's do it." Howard sighed and shook his head.

"Let's not. Not right now. Let's just spend today getting settled in, shall we?"

"Yeah, alright." We walked up the last flight of steps to our room. "Howard?" I said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not sure I like it here."

"No. Me neither."

We tried to unpack our stuff, but there wasn't really anywhere to put anything. I was just glad that I had brought my art materials with me, if I was going to have to produce artwork to sell. In the end, we left our clothes in our suitcases and I started to paint, talking to Howard as I did. Before I knew it, night had fallen. We hadn't eaten anything, but I realised that I was tired, and that took precedence. There was a short argument over who got the camp bed, mainly because Howard thought I should have it, and I thought it'd be better if he did. In the end, I physically pushed him onto it, and he gave up. We started off with our pillows at the left side of the beds, but Howard said:

"This doesn't feel right." He picked up his pillow and put it at the other end of the bed so that our heads were together.

"Howard, I think we should swap every week."

"What?"

"We should swap beds every week so that it's fair."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's a good idea."

"Okay then." I paused. "I don't think it's safe here, you know."

"No. I've seen demolition sites safer than this place. Some of these 'artists' look like psychopaths."

"Yeah. Can I ask you a favour?"

"Yeah."

"Look after me?" I tilted my head back to look at him.

"Only if you look after me."

"Deal."

"Alright. Goodnight, Vince."

"G'night, Howard."

Reviews would be very awesome :)

By the way, I just want to inform you readers of a dream I had the other night that scared me. A LOT. I dreamt that Noel Fielding had died and I was out looking all over the world for him and couldn't find him. And then I woke up and couldn't remember if he really had died! Seriously, I can't deal with it when my brain throws this stuff at me. I almost had a breakdown. In all honesty though, am I a freak for dreaming of Noel Fielding?