Star One. Stockton-on-Tees

page one of three

10 to 12 March 2006

The fans

(the guests are on page two and the closing ceremony on page three)

Pictures on all three pages taken by Snowgrouse and myself (apart from one by Sarah on page two).

Hanging around the bar on Friday night

The winning pub quiz team (Snowgrouse in the picture on the right was already at the bar when the team photo was taken)

The problems with having a birthday at a convention

And yes, that book was launched.

The Caption Contest

I didn't win the caption contest with Paula's suggestions, but here they are for you to enjoy:

"What do you mean, 'we're going to need a bigger gadget'?"

Avon finally stopped droning on about the decoder when he realised Blake had
nodded off.

Their attempt to fix the waste disposal unit had failed miserably, and Blake
would shortly realise exactly why Avon was surreptitiously raising his
umbrella.

As Blake marvelled at his latest feat of technical wizardry, Avon considered
it best not to tell him it was all done with a simple bicycle pump and three
bits of blu-tac.

Avon's dentist was a bit of a nutter, but his tooth-whitening technique got
the best results in the galaxy.

Having first demonstrated the effectiveness of the electrolysis wand on his
own head, Shrinker closed in on Avon to perform a long-overdue nostril trim.

"Do you know what this is?"
"It's a lip liner."
"It's a - Ah. So it is. However did that get in there? That's not mine.
I never saw it before in my life," stammered Shrinker, blushing furiously as
he threw it back in his handbag.

"These BBC make-up girls just keep on getting prettier and prettier,"
thought Paul.

Avon prepares for his fourth attempt at the record for playing the galaxy's
tiniest trumpet.

"Are we nearly there yet?" asked Tarrant. "I feel sick and I need a wee."

"When I tap on the dashboard, I want you to perform an emergency stop," said
Tarrant. Of course, Blake had already failed for undue hesitancy and
driving off-road in an inappropriate vehicle, but at least this field was a
short-cut back to the test centre.

Tarrant's cack-handed attempt to assist with a tricky gear-change had earned
him a slapped face, and the rest of the journey was spent in awkward
silence.

As he watched the hand creeping towards his thigh, Tarrant suddenly
understood all Avon's warnings about getting into cars with strange men.

"This new series of The Professionals is never going to work if we both have
curly hair," thought Gareth, grimly.

"Of course," ventured Tarrant. "We could always just park."

The Guests

The Closing Ceremony

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