Denzil's story had obviously been told a number of times before. His dramatic pauses were just long enough and he had a sort of act that went along with it - lots of arm waving and theatrical voice raising. The general gist of it is that Denzil used to work for NASA at a secret base in Russia. Sorry, I should have said 'allegedly' in there because, to be honest, I didn't believe a word he said. The thing in his pocket was a sew-on badge, apparently from his astronaut jump suit. Not the space suit things you see them in when they're floating around - it wouldn't be very sensible to go sticking needles into one of those - but the things you wear under them.

Anyway, he was never really meant to actually man the shuttle, he was, apparently, more of a techie guy who worked on the shuttle systems on the ground. It ended up that he was the only one who knew how to work a specific bit of equipment - something to do with the oxygen in the cabin thing - so he went up with them. They lied to the press, because they like you to believe that people who go to space are highly intelligent, superior human beings. They told everyone he was a former fighter pilot when, in fact, he was just a geek who knew how to keep the proper astronauts alive.

When he was done Denzil sat down on the bench and reached for his cider.

"You know," Chrissie said, "I've heard that story a hundred times, Denz, and I still don't believe a fucking word of it!"

"Yeah, well you wouldn't would you," Denzil retorted, "None of you fuckers have got a clue have you?" He was standing back up again now, "Sitting around here every day rotting your livers. What have you ever fucking well done, eh? " He was shouting now, "Eh? Nothing, that's what!" And with that he triumphantly undid his flies and started pissing on the floor.