"Hello, Space Bar- oh fuck!' Brian doubled up in agony on the floor. Spitting out blood and broken teeth, he crawled into the bathroom where Space Baron sat categorising his collection of complimentary bathroom soaps.
"Spathe Baron" he lisped pathetically, wincing as another rib pierced his lung, "Why the hell is that Time Machine sitting in the middle of the kitchen in complete darkness? I think one of those sharp metal bits on the side has dislodged into my oesophagus.."
"Oh for god's sake, Brian, stop whingeing, can't you see I'm busy? The astounding lack of supervillainery in the last couple of weeks has left my brains in a less than optimum state, and I must concentrate on the task at hand" Space Baron said nastily, crossing his legs and shifting the Cashmere Bouquets onto the cistern, out of the way of Brian's trembling bloody handprints.
"I just think that..." Brian paused as Space Baron's image grew faint and blurry, "perhaps if we could discuss the movement of furniture...where's that white light coming from?....what was I saying? I...I really think I need to go to the hospital, and - " Brian was suddenly cut off as his head smashed down onto the tiles and he passed out.
"In theory, Brian, you probably do need to go the hospital, but I have to drive down to the park and feed the ducks, and I couldn't possibly take you now....Brian? You know how much this silent treatment fucking annoys me Brian...Brian?"
Space Baron paused tearfully as he pondered the situation. His loving sidekick! Dead! How on earth could he sleep with all those screaming pre-teen girls without Brian to attract them with his er...effeminate charms?
"Goddamnit Brian, I won't let you die!"
* * *
Space Baron stepped warily out of the time machine, noting with slight annoyance that it probably would have been more practical to just carry Brian across the road to the hospital rather than punch random dates into the Time Machine and hope for the best. 'No time to think about a plan now' he thought, contradicting himself, 'I must find help!' Dropping Brian's near lifeless body on the ground, he looked around in vain for a doctor. "By my calculations, we are forty years in the future, and thus should find qualified and expert medical treatment that will restore Brian to his former good health through a quality public health system. Ho there! You! Are you a doctor from the year 2038?"
"Ooooooh, no lovey. I work in the menswear department of a mid-1970's department store. Are you being served?' said the gay looking shop assistant, destroying any hopes that this episode was going to be an insightful and timely focus on medical shortages in the 90's.
"Fuck it!' stormed Space Baron, kicking Brian's corpse in anger. "I need somebody to help restore my pre-pubescent squealing fan attracting sidekick to life, before it's too late!"
"Only if I can measure your inside leg!" tittered John Inman, swiftly avoiding Space Barons kick to the groin. "Ooooh, no wonder he's dying, how could his skin possibly breathe in this loose cotton dress? Quick, Mrs Slocombe - a ludicrously tight nylon suit and a cup of weak milky tea, before it's too late!"
* * *
Brian blearily raised his hands to his eyes and noted with disdain the swooshing nylon noise that accompanied any movement. "Where...where am I?" he stuttered in amazement, as he'd seen actors do in low-quality American productions. " I've just had the most amazing dream..And you were there, and you, and you - "
"Shut the fuck up, Brian." said Space Baron airily, adjusting his corduroy pants. "Mrs Slocombe's invited me over to see her pussy..."
STAY TUNED NEXT WEEK WHEN SPACE BARON AND BRIAN VISIT THE CAST OF PRISONER