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  Gleeze knew all this. And he suspected most of his colleagues around the table knew as well. But he doubted Kanker did. The Senior Knight didn't tend to indulge in office gossip and might well be unaware of the full extent of Blobe's expansionary developments of late - and therefore the true purpose of his agenda point. But whoever knew what, it wouldn't stop Blobe having his moment - and making the most if it. And now it was time for the show.

  'Point eight,' intoned Gleeze, 'is an item placed on the agenda at the request of Blobe. There are no papers relating to this item, so I will hand over to Blobe who I understand wishes to make a brief presentation on…'

  But Blobe was away from the starting blocks before his chairman could finish his introduction. Patience had never been one of his stronger points. 'Gentlemen,' he announced abruptly, 'never ask what the League can do for you, but what you can do for the League. Or, put another way, never ask for a biscuit, but what a biscuit can do for you!'

  'Oh God,' thought Gleeze, 'an assertive opener! And a piss-awful one at that. He must have been on that bloody presentation skills course. Pity they couldn't do anything for his IQ though. And now I suppose we've got the objectives and the preview…'

  'What I want to do, gentlemen, is to bring to your attention an important matter concerning the conduct of our League's business, and how, in respect of this matter, it might be time for a change. I want you to consider, gentlemen, whether it's now time for what I like to think of as "lean refreshment". League meetings, gentlemen, where only liquid refreshment is allowed, and where there is an end to our over-dependency on its solid stable-mate: the ubiquitous biscuit selection!'

  'Objective down,' muttered Gleeze to himself, 'preview to go.'

  'And what I'd like to do,' continued Blobe, 'is to point out three reasons to make this change. Three, in my mind, incontraversible… unconstestible… errh, uncontentainable… errh, three very strong reasons… errh for change. And these are… errh, image… errh, efficiency… and errh, cost…'

  'Oh errh-dear,' mused Gleeze, 'the old intellect's under a bit of pressure now. Mind, he's got his three key points out - even if only one of them's a real one. I can't see Kanker getting too bothered about image and efficiency. But cost, well…'

  'So first, image,' bubbled Blobe. 'And all I need to say here, I think, is imagine yourself as a client - or indeed as a prospective client - sitting in one of our offices and being offered a plate of expensive biscuits. What might you think? Just what impression might that create, eh? What sort of image of the League does that project, eh?'

  'Hospitable?' offered a smirking Vorskyn.

  'No!' retorted an angry looking Blobe. 'Profitable! That's what it says, profi…'

  'I think you mean "profligate",' interrupted Gleeze, 'or possibly "extravagant". That might be a better word. Or…'

  'Thank you,' snapped Blobe. 'As I was about to say, profligate. That's what they'll think - and with their money, remember. And think what that could do to our business.'

  But before anybody had the opportunity to think what this could do to their business, Blobe was off again. 'And the second consideration is efficiency. Or should I say inefficiency? 'Cos that's what biscuit eating at meetings causes - without a doubt. They're a distraction, an interruption to the flow of the meeting. All that passing the plate round, choosing which one, the biting, the chewing - and all those crumbs you have to catch… They all have the same effect, the same ability to nibble away at the proper use of our time - whether it's in a client meeting or an internal meeting. Biscuits, gentlemen, are subversive!'

  Smegerill stifled a snigger. Everyone else was silent - and non-committal. Like Gleeze, they clearly wanted to avoid displaying their views - before Kanker had shown his own.

  Blobe appeared oblivious to this degree of reserve and charged into his third winning point as though he'd already received a stunning ovation. 'And finally,' he sang, ' there's the cost. And this is the real cruncher. This really takes the biscuit, as they say.'

  At this point he paused to allow his audience to laugh. It didn't. But maybe he imagined it did. Because he went on as enthusiastically as ever. 'Did you know,' he said, 'that in one of our offices, the spend on biscuits is nearly one per cent of its profits? I mean, one per cent. It's hardly credible.'

  This statement did secure a reaction from around the table - a few raised eyebrows and somewhere even a mumbled 'streuth'. But Gleeze wondered what different reaction Blobe would have stirred if he'd gone on to tell his audience that the office in question was Korpulund. But that was just a detail. It was the same with the next piece of half-information.

  'Some others do a little better…' he continued - when Gleeze knew he really meant 'all other offices spend nothing like this ridiculous amount'. But again a detail. Gleeze would have done the same thing himself. Hell, Blobe was making a point, not a sworn statement.

  '…and we just cannot afford that sort of errh… extravagance in our business. It's indefensible. It's just not on!'

  'Ah, now the presentation summary,' thought Gleeze.

  'And so to summarize,' pronounced Blobe, 'I think we have to decide - and decide now - that with immediate effect, biscuits should be struck out of meetings in the League's offices. We should send an edict out now - clamping down on the comestibles and maybe imposing some penalties for transgressions. Errh - we owe it to our business. So there.'

  'Umm, fascinating,' thought Gleeze. 'He's not just presented an argument, he's actually come out with a recommendation. He's shown his hand already. And that's very un-Blobeish. It must mean only one thing. He's already cleared it with old inscrutable at the end of the table there. Kanker must be anti-biscuit himself. Well, time to find out.

  'Thank you, Blobe,' smiled Gleeze, 'most illuminating, I'm sure. And I'm sure the meeting would now like to hear the views of our leader…' He turned to face Kanker '…so would the Senior Knight care to comment on Blobe's observations…?'

  'No,' snarled Kanker. 'He wouldn't. And he wouldn't because he'd like to hear the views of some of his esteemed fellow knights first - for a change. I'm assuming, Gleeze, that they all know what a meeting is and what a bloody biscuit is. Or maybe I'm being presumptuous… Mind, old Blobe seems to know, so we should be OK, shouldn't we? So come on then, how about some views, eh? I know, we'll ask Vorskyn. He had something to say while ole Blobe was spouting on, didn't he? So come on, Vorskyn, what have you got to say for yourself now?'

  'Mmm, curiouser and curiouser,' thought Gleeze. 'I smell a trap. I wonder if Vorskyn does as well. He's really on the spot now. But will he have picked up the same signals that I have? Will he vote with Blobe? Or maybe he'll just deflect the challenge - like he usually does. The greatest evader and avoider of us all - whether it's work, responsibility, liability - or a Kanker spotlight - he can dodge every one…'

  'I'm very pleased you've asked me, Senior Knight,' he grinned, 'because I have quite a lot to say for myself actually. And I welcome the opportunity to do just that. I really do.

  'You see, my thoughts are a little, errh… How shall I say? Errh… a little less extreme in their nature than our friend, Blobe's - whom I'm the first to congratulate for his initiative on this point, but whom I have to say, has possibly gone just a little too far in his refreshment vendetta. Because that's what it is, I'm afraid: a vendetta against biscuits - and supposedly their cost - but without counting the real cost. And I mean the real cost to the League.'

  'Wow,' thought Gleeze, 'he must reckon there's a double bluff - or that Blobe's screwed it. I wonder…'

  Vorskyn was now staring directly at Kanker. He looked cool and confident. 'I, as you pointed out, Senior Knight, did inject the word "hospitality" into Blobe's address. And I did this because I believe it. I want my visitors to feel comfortable - and welcome. I find they give me work if they do. And if that means giving them a plate of biscuits, then that's what I'll give them. It's a question of balance. Save costs by all means - but not at the expense of lost income. That's just cra
zy.'

  'Ah, but what about non-client meetings?' interrupted Kanker. 'All those bloody interminable get togethers our dear troopers and our dear fellow knights appear to love so much. What about them, eh?'

  'Recharge them,' returned Vorskyn immediately, 'with a hefty mark up if you like. I'm sure Blobe wouldn't have too much of a problem with that.'

  Gleeze saw Kanker grinning… well, it was that combination of facial contortions that he'd now learnt to interpret as a grin. And that meant Vorskyn had survived being put on the spot - and in spades. That smart-arsed bastard had come out unscathed - again. And then horror upon horror, Kanker actually congratulated him!

  'Very balanced, Vorskyn,' he observed, 'very balanced indeed. And I have to say I'm inclined to your view as well - if of course the rest of the meeting agrees…'

  'Oh absolutely,' shouted Smegerill, 'I couldn't agree more.'

  'No I'm damn sure you couldn't,' thought Gleeze. 'As soon as the sign's up, you're off and away - like all of you buggers. Seeing who can get the furthest up Kanker's arse. And Smegerill's there first - and with such a total lack of finesse!'

  'Ah, Smegerill,' responded Kanker, 'and have you any of your own thoughts on this matter, or are you just an agreeable sort of chap? Come on, let's hear what you've got to say. And I mean now.'

  'Ahhhmm,' ventured Smegerill, clearly as bereft of his own thoughts as ever. 'Ahhh-ummmh, well, we could cut out the custard creams and the jammy dodgers. You know, the expensive ones. I mean, from the client meetings - not the ones we're recharging. But, I don't mean we have more expensive ones at those… errh, of course… I errh, mean…'

  'Custard creams,' interjected Wojjer, 'are not expensive. They're cheaper than garibaldis actually. Mind, why anybody would want to eat those things, I can't imagine. They're horrible, aren't they?'

  'No they're not,' rejoined Blobe, 'they're very nice actually. You don't know what you're talking about.'

  'Oh sorry,' retorted Wojjer. 'I was forgetting we had a biscuit consumption statistic sitting with us today. I suppose you've eaten more garibaldis than the rest of us put together. So what do I know?

  'Mind, why you've suddenly decided biscuits are verboten, God only knows. You haven't had a bad experience with a chocolate finger recently, have you? It didn't break off or something, did it…?'

  'Why you nasty shithead you!' shouted Blobe. 'You just watch…'

  '…there again, I suppose a chocolate Swiss-roll's more your size…'

  'You bastard! I'll…'

  'Gentlemen! Gentlemen!' interrupted Gleeze. 'I think we're getting a little off the point…'

  'Absolutely,' agreed Smegerill again. 'And I hadn't finished. Cos I was just going on to talk about people bringing their own. You know… errh, not the clients. I mean the troopers and the knights… you know, rather than recharging. Because that way people would get what they want - rather than what's on offer. And, I don't know about you, but sometimes it's just those rich tea biscuits and those things with jam in the middle. And I don't like either of them. And sometimes I really fancy some carrot cake or a bit of prupple-bun. And, of course, we never get any of that sort of stuff. So I think we should…'

  'Shut up, Smegerill,' snapped Kanker.

  'Errh yes… erhh Senior Knight… erhh…'

  'Just shut up, will you.'

  Gleeze thought he knew what was coming next, but he didn't know who was going to get it. Then Kanker spoke. And what he spoke was good. Because he didn't say 'Gleeze', he just said 'Wojjer.'

  'Yes, Senior Knight,' smiled the unfortunate one.

  'Yes indeed, Wojjer,' replied Kanker in his quietest possible voice, 'yes indeed. Tell you what, Wojjer, I want you to develop your custard cream point. You appear to be such an authority on them. And on their cost. So, Wojjer, please let us hear a little bit more on custard creams… Oh, and could you possibly extend that to giving us your views on Blobe's presentation. I mean, I want you to advise the Council on how we should deal with biscuits at League meetings. I want your recommendations. In fact, forget the custard creams, Wojjer. Just tell us what The Intergalactic Chivalrous Knights' League should adopt as its policy for sustaining the attendees of its meetings. And don't waffle. Just tell us what we should do. You've got thirty seconds.'

  Wojjer was now the white Wojjer. He'd drawn the short straw. Playtime was over and he knew it. It was written all over his white face.

  Gleeze felt very content. If there was blood to be spilt at this meeting, it wouldn't be his. And he had a distinct feeling that blood would be spilt - because Wojjer was renowned for jumping the wrong way.

  He started - quaking: 'errh thank you, Senior Knight. I'm very pleased…'

  'I said don't waffle! Twenty-six seconds!'

  'Oh yes, yes,' snivelled Kanker's victim. 'Yes, erhh… well, I think we should offer nice biscuits to our guests - to make them happy. And we should stop biscuits in internal meetings… errh, except if people want to pay for them themselves - or, I suppose they could bring their own - as errh… as Smegerill suggested. Or, or maybe we could alternate. Or, or maybe, ration. No, not ration, I mean, depending on what the meeting is - and whether it's just troopers, you know. And maybe then just digestives or something. Or, or maybe…'

  'Or maybe we should scrap all fucking meetings and just sit around eating biscuits all day. Or do you think that might not quite match up to Blobe's point on efficiency? And maybe image could be a bit of a problem as well. You know, we'd all end up looking like Blobe - only covered in biscuit crumbs. Jesus, Wojjer, you're bleedin' useless! Can't you see there's just one solution to this question? And it's the one Blobe proposed originally. And if you can't remember, what he suggested was to ban all biscuits from all meetings. And that, arse-brain, is exactly what we'll do. There'll be no more bloody biscuits. Understand?'

  'Ah well,' thought Gleeze, 'he didn't so much jump the wrong way as stumble the wrong way. But that's just as bad…'

  'You're a friggin' moron, Wojjer,' continued Kanker. 'Do you hear? A stupid, piggin', daft, bastard moron. And you're a pile of shit as well. A moronic pile of shit! And you stink like a pile of shit. And so do your ideas - if we can call them ideas. More like bloody ramblings. And pathetic, indecisive ramblings at that.

  'Shit! I should think I've had more ideas in my willy than you've had in your head - ever. And I mean ever. You're a friggin' cretin. A bleedin' idiot cretin. And I hate cretins. I really do. And that means I hate you. And I hurt people I hate. Don't I, Wojjer? Well, don't I?'

  Wojjer tried to agree with this assertion, but he'd obviously forgotten which language he spoke and could only manage a guttural 'ugggg'.

  'Shut up, I haven't finished yet!' screamed Kanker. 'I don't think I've made it quite clear just how much I despise cretins with rambling "ideas" - especially ones who pretend they're a member of my Council and who think they're good enough to sit here at this table. So let me make it clear, Wojjer. Crystal fucking clear. You hear this and you hear it good. You fuck around with me like that again and you're gone. Understand? And I mean really gone. You won't even remember you were ever here, you'll be that fuckin' gone. Do you understand? You're nobody. You're a nothing, a piss pot hole-in-the-ground nothing. And you're only anything because of me. I made you and I'll break you - whenever I want. And when I do, you're gone, you've effin' never-to-be-seen-ever-again gone with no way back. You mind me, you worm-brained cretin, you flea-brained moron. And get your act together. I will not have stupid, snot-nosed faggots sittin' round this table - not now and not ever. And you hear that and you hear it good. Or you'll eat shit!'

  And then, as he paused in his onslaught, the door opened and in glided the automatic refreshment trolley. It purred up to Kanker and came to rest by his right hand. Around its sides were the various drinks preferred by the members of the Council. And in the middle was a pagoda-style, multi-layered biscuit stand. It was loaded. Every conceivable biscuit of every shape and size to fit every taste and every preference. There were masses of mimit
ills, drifts of digestives, heaps of hobnobs - and garibaldis galore. A real abundance of biscuits, which bordered on the obscene.

  Everybody stared at it. Even the traumatised Wojjer. Then Kanker spoke - at first quietly. 'And another thing, young Wojjer. In all that piss-awful rambling, you managed to neglect the one aspect of a biscuit strategy that's nothing less than fundamental: the time factor! The soddin' length of time a meeting takes. The only thing, and I mean only thing, that should allow us an exception to a biscuit boycott.'

  He turned to Gleeze. 'Gleeze, how long have we been in this room now?'

  'One and a half hours, Senior Knight.'

  'Right. One and a half hours. Did you hear that, Wojjer? One and a half fucking hours. Well, that's a long time for anyone. Especially if they have to sit through your sort of shit. And when meetings go on for that long, it's not a matter of refreshment, it's a matter of soddin' survival. We'd all be passing out with bleedin' hunger without the odd biscuit to stoke up on. And you couldn't see that, could you? You hadn't a clue, had you? You're just a useless pile of shit. A worthless pile of crap. A joke. A sad, pathetic twot. A real cretin…'

  And then Kanker's interest seemed to stray to the biscuits, and agenda point eight had apparently drawn to a close. The issue was settled and the minutes would record the Senior Knight's concurrence with Blobe's proposal - for an embargo on biscuits - with a meeting duration override. But they would record little else concerning point eight. Gleeze might include a reference to the dissemination of the decision through a Council edict - but probably not. Because there wouldn't be one. Such edicts had been distributed before - and had been totally ignored before. They just weren't worth bothering with. And Kanker would never know anyway.