I gathered up a heap of dry dead plants and used my reading glasses to focus the sun onto some fine wisps of grass. It was soon burning merrily, spreading across the walled garden and removing years of neglect.

The women came running from the House in alarm, and tried to beat out the flames with brushes and mops.

'You'll bring the Fashion Police!' they shouted at me.
'Why? Surely they wouldn't be concerned by a garden fire.'
'They watch everything, you must not do anything to attract their attention.'
'How do they watch?'
My question was answered by the sound of an aircraft engine, and a small helicopter came into view over the high walls. It's pilot found a place to land and two of the passengers came to where we were all assembled. I had been pulled along by the household women, which was not wise.

The Fashion Police in their turquoise uniforms are arrogant, cocksure and they smirk - but the women were so meek and apologetic that I could have slapped them.

Fortunately there was a dirty old broken bottle lying on the burnt area, and the men concluded that it had caused the fire. They did not wish to get their boots dirty, I could see, so they took the first explanation which fitted the facts as they saw them.

Unfortunately the pilot kept the engine running downwind of the fire, and when it came to be time to take off, the revs would not increase. I assumed that the smoke had clogged the air filters, but the pilot seemed to have no clue about the possible causes of the problem.

They raised the alarm using a radio, I went to have a look inside whilst the Fashion Police were having a rather intense discussion on the other side of the aircraft. The company colours, turquoise and gold were used everywhere, and their rather artistic looking logo was on everything, even the material upholstering the seats.

The floor of the aircraft was littered with wrappers and dropped or discarded items. I picked up a pen and tried it on my hand, it did not work, so I swapped it for the identical, but working one on the clipboard in the pocket inthe pilot's door. I found a notebook under the seat, lots of sweets - someone did not like the yellow ones, a few coins, something sticky I did not want to know about. I put the pen and notebook in my skirt pocket, and retreated.