As Joe tries to figure out how to find the weight of Mini Mouse on that Saturday morning, he goes into the back garden with his nephew, Mark. Mark is nearly seven. He lives just a few hundred yards away, so he�s often around. And wherever Mark goes, he always brings his blanket � his good friend, Mr. Hollywood-Story Blanket.

Joe�s mind is far away as he tries to answer the Mini Mouse question, and Mark is distracted by something too. He stares at a red key ring in the grass. Mr. Hollywood-Story Blanket has a feeling that there�s something significant about this. Yesterday they were in the field behind their house. There�s a tree in the middle of the field, and next to the tree there�s a rock covered in moss. On the rock, they found a strawberry. A few days ago they found a red pen in a flowerbed. Mr. Hollywood-Story Blanket thinks it�s more than just a coincidence that all of these things are red.

Joe meets up with Steve in the afternoon. He talks about the woman he asked to dance last night and the question she asked him: Which is heavier � your brain or Mini Mouse? Joe explains how he tried to answer the question, but he can�t determine the weight of Mini Mouse.

�You must have a fairly small brain not to have figured that out by now,� Steve says.

�Well what�s the solution, Einstein?�

�It should be one of those things you just know. I know my brain is heavier than Mini Mouse.�

�Yeah, well I know my brain is heavier than Mickey Mouse, and he�s heavier than Mini.�

�How do you know that Mickey is heavier if you don�t know the weight of Mini?�

�She wouldn�t be called Mini if she was bigger than him.�

�How do you know that it refers to her weight? It might refer to her intellectual capacity. She might have a smaller brain.�

�Yeah, well I know my brain is heavier than Mickey Mouse�s brain,� Joe says.

�I bet it�s still lighter than Mini Mouse. She must be fairly heavy. I bet she�s heavier than Mickey � she has the breasts and the hips.�

�But Mickey has the bigger brain.�

�Mini Mouse�s breasts and hips would be much greater than the difference between her brain and Mickey Mouse�s brain.�

�You seem to know a lot about Mini Mouse�s breasts and hips. I�m sure Mickey would love to hear about this. It doesn�t matter how big his brain is, he�d still beat the shit out of you.�

�Mickey Mouse could not beat the shit out of me. He wouldn�t have a hope.�

�Mini Mouse could beat the shit out of you. Beaten by a woman mouse You said yourself � she has all that extra weight in breasts and hips. And ears.�

�Leave the ears out of this � they clearly have the same ears.�

�You�re prepared to make judgements on her mental capacity even though you�ve never seen any evidence of it. She�d definitely kick the shit out of you if she heard how small you think her brain is.�

�I never said her brain was small � I just said it was smaller than her husband�s.�

�She�d kick the shit out of you for that too.�

�Are you saying her brain is bigger than her husband�s brain?�

�All I�m saying is that we can�t say one way or the other. That�s why I was willing to settle the issue by an experiment, but you just make assumptions.�

�So how are you going to determine the weight of Mini Mouse?�

�I don�t know. I thought you�d be in the best position to estimate that, seeing as you�re so intimately acquainted with her breasts and hips.�

The bar man intervenes. He says, �You can�t determine the weight of Mickey Mouse or Mini. They�re both fictional characters. They have no weight in the real world.� Blank stares from Joe and Steve. �They only exist in ye�r minds.�

�Oh� Oh right,� Joe says. �Like in our brains.�

�Yeah, in ye�r brains.�

�Well Mini Mouse can�t be all that heavy,� Joe says to Steve. �She�s very definitely in your brain, along with her breasts and hips, and your brain is tiny.�

�Yeah well Mickey is probably in your brain. I�d rather have Mini�s breasts and hips in my brain than Mickey Mouse. And Mickey must be lighter than Mini because your brain is smaller than mine.�

�It�s obvious that Mickey is heavier than Mini. He might not have breasts and hips, but he has muscles. My brain is definitely heavier than yours.�

�That�s what�s on your brain, isn�t it. Mickey coming out of the shower, his muscles all wet. And he�s still lighter than Mini � you have no idea how big her breasts are.�

�There�s only one way to settle this,� Joe says. �We�ll have to weigh our brains.�

�That�s fine by me.�

�So we�ll have to weigh ourselves first, and then we remove our brains and then get� No, actually we just have to remove our brains and then weigh them.�

�Fine.�

�Okay then.�

�Right.�

�Fine.�

�I have a pen knife.�

The bar man can see that this might get messy, and some people from the film are looking at all the local bars as possible locations. They could call at any time, so he wants to keep the floor clean. He says to them, �There�s no point in trying to answer that question unless ye answer another question first.�

�What�s that?�

�If Tom Thumb had free will, and he saw a dagger and a pencil next to his birthday cake, which one would he most associate with the past � the dagger or the pencil?�

There�s silence as Joe and Steve think about it. This should keep them busy for a few days.

It looks as if there�s no chance that Cyril will end up hating Gregory Shootout. They played a round of golf together. There�s no other option but to rewrite the script, but Minty, Ronny and Dara insist that they can�t cut the hatred of Greg. Alfred decides to bring in another writer who�ll counteract this anti-Greg tendency. It has to be someone who�s very pro-Greg � someone who knows and loves him. In the end, they settle for Greg�s fourteen-year-old daughter, Penelope Shootout.

The four of them have another go at writing the script, and this time it does come out very pro-Greg. The hatred is channelled down another path � constant derogatory references to Manchester United � but that�s not too problematic (and Alfred thinks he can cut those references if there�s a threat of legal action). Apart from the new pro-Greg, anti-United stance, the other big change is the addition of two new characters � Penelope and her friend, Chloe.

Penelope wrote herself and Chloe into the film so they could meet Colin Farrell. In most of their scenes, they discuss what it would be like to meet Colin Farrell. One of these discussions takes place on a luxury yacht, and another while they�re walking poodles down a street. In their last scene, they finally get to meet him.

Alfred insists that they rewrite the script again, so they have yet another go, but they can�t seem to cut Penelope and Chloe. Even the other writers say that they definitely add something to the story � it just doesn�t seem the same when they remove those scenes. So Alfred agrees to let them in, and he lets Penelope and Chloe play themselves in the film. He�s hoping that Colin Farrell will agree to a cameo appearance.

Amy tells Emily all the latest news from the film when she gets home each evening. Emily doesn�t really want to hear about the film � she just looks at Little Kitty Fake Tan as her sister talks, but Amy doesn�t notice and keeps talking. But when Emily hears about how Penelope and Chloe got into the film, she sees a way of getting into it herself. If she could get into the story of Cyril�s life, she could be a character in the film, and Alfred would surely allow her to play herself too. She�s desperate to appear in this film, not just because her sister is the star, but everyone seems to be getting into it. Even Little Kitty Fake Tan will be appearing in the background as product placement.

Joe and Steve sit in the beer garden at the back of the pub on Wednesday evening. They�ve been trying to answer the Tom Thumb question since Saturday, but they still can�t agree on an answer. Joe says that the pencil would remind him more of the past because we all use pencils when we�re young in school, but Steve goes for the dagger � he says that you�d never remember using a pencil, but you�d definitely remember using a dagger or a knife, like if you used it on a dead rabbit.

Joe eventually says, �I suppose we really need to know who Tom Thumb is before we can answer the question.�

�What, are you saying you don�t know who Tom Thumb is?�

�No.�

�All this time we�ve been arguing about whether a pencil or a dagger next to his birthday cake would remind him of the past, and you don�t even know who he is.�

�Are you saying you do know who he is?�

�Of course I do. Why do you think I�ve been talking about him using a knife on a dead rabbit over the past few days?�

�So who is he?�

�He�s the guy in the petrol station.�

�That�s Tom Thompson, ya eejit.�

�Oh.�

�We need to find out who he is before we can answer the question.�

�Well duh. At least I thought he was someone.�

�And why should we just assume he has free will? Maybe we need to answer that question first too.�

There�s a singer playing a guitar and singing some of his songs in the pub, which is partly why Joe and Steve are outside in the beer garden, but they can just about hear him from here. He sings the words: �Something something cash till, and Tom Thumb does have free will.�

�Okay,� Joe says, �let�s assume he does have free will.�

�And why don�t we just assume he�d go for the dagger as well, seeing as we can�t come up with a definitive answer until we find out who Tom Thumb is. Let�s just �take a stab� at it and go for the dagger, and then we can move back to the Mini Mouse question.�

�Fair enough.�

�I think the first question was about whether or not Mini Mouse is heavier than your brain. Let�s try to figure out that one first.�

�It�s a bit like the problem with the Tom Thumb question. We know who Mini Mouse is, but we�ll never be able to answer the question definitively until we know her weight.�

They both stare silently into the night as they try to come up with a solution. The sun has gone down, and the sky above is almost completely black. Steve looks at the bright red flame of cigarettes in the darkness, and he remembers some neighbours of his who go to evening classes. There are classes to teach people how to make it look as if statistically they own an elf. A minibus takes a group from Steve�s neighbourhood to the classes every week, and everyone believes that each person in the group owns an elf, even though no one has ever seen an elf. People often visit the neighbourhood at night in the hope of seeing one. They never do, but they�re satisfied with seeing a cat or a dog. They go home and say, �I didn�t see an elf, but I saw a dog.�

Some people�s idea of an elf is similar to most people�s idea of a firefly, and they sometimes claim to have seen an elf. Of course, they weren�t actually seeing fireflies either � it was normally just someone smoking a cigarette in the darkness.

An advanced class is starting next year. It will teach people how to appear as if statistically they must be Mahatma Ghandi.

Steve also remembers a trip to an art gallery with one of his ex-girlfriends, Jane. He had no interest in art, but she often dragged him along to galleries or exhibitions. As they walked around the gallery, she was sucking a lollipop. When she met her aunt, she took the lollipop out of her mouth and hid it behind her back. Jane was talking to her aunt for a few minutes, but then her aunt said, �That monkey has a lollipop.�

Jane turned around and saw the monkey on a seat, staring at her as it sucked her lollipop. She thought that whatever the rights and wrongs of a monkey on a seat in an art gallery, or of sucking a lollipop in an art gallery, it�s definitely wrong to let a monkey take your lollipop in an art gallery. She got nervous and said the first thing that came into her head: �You know what they say � if you give a thousand lollipops to a thousand monkeys, they�ll produce the work of Shakespeare.� She knew as soon as she said it that it didn�t sound right. �Or is it a thousand lollipops to one monkey?�

The monkey finished the lollipop and then puked. Jane said, �That�s probably not Shakespeare. It�s� I don�t know� John Donne.�

�What have you got against John Donne?� her aunt said.

�Absolutely nothing, but obviously the monkey has.�

Jane�s aunt was horrified. She took the monkey home with her and every evening she read it some of John Donne�s poems. The monkey would go mad � he had much better ways of spending his evenings, and he started to hate John Donne.

Steve remembers this and he thinks that if people could believe that a cigarette is an elf, then surely an idiot like Joe would believe that a monkey is Mini Mouse. Jane�s aunt still has the monkey. He says to Joe, �The only way we�re going to find out Mini Mouse�s weight is if we weigh her.�

�In the off-chance that we did meet her, why would she let us weigh her?�

�If we explained the situation to her I�m sure she�d agree. And there�s a very good chance we�ll meet her. Do you remember Jane?�

�Yeah.�

�I remember her aunt once told me that she�s a friend of Mini Mouse, and Mini often comes to stay with her here in Mizzenwood. She might be in the town right now. I�ll call around to see her tomorrow and I�ll see if Mini is there.�

On the following evening, Joe is sitting at the same table in the beer garden when Steve arrives with a weighing scales under his arm, and his other hand is holding the hand of a monkey. He says, �Good news, Joe. This is Mini Mouse�

�That�s Mini Mouse?�

�Y� know, �hello� would be a more polite greeting.�

�Oh, sorry, ah� Hello, Mrs. Mouse. It�s nice to meet you� I suppose I was expecting someone a bit, ah� taller.�

�Have you ever seen Mini Mouse in real life before?� Steve says.

�No.�

�Then why did you expect a mouse to be bigger than this?�

�Oh yeah. I suppose I never really thought about it before� There is one other thing� ah�� Joe whispers to Steve, �She�s not wearing any clothes.�

�She�s a mouse.�

�Right. Fair enough.� Joe doesn�t want to say anything about the breasts and hips in front of Mini. �She�s a bit hairy.�

�She�s a fucking mouse!� Sorry, Mini.�

�Right, so does she mind being weighed?�

�Not at all.� Steve puts the weighing scales on the table and says, �On ya get, Mini.�

The monkey sits on the weighing scales and they take a reading.

�What about my brain?� Joe says. �I suppose I�ll have to remove it if we�re going to weigh it.�

�We might not have to go that far. We could just weigh your head and see if that�s lighter than Mini Mouse.�

Joe lies on the table and carefully rests his head on the weighing scales.

�Ha!� Steve says. �Mini Mouse is heavier than your whole head so she must be heavier than your brain.�

Joe sits down and says, �Well at least that girl in the nightclub might dance with me now that I can answer her question.�

Steve gets a round of drinks and a Coke for Mini Mouse. A woman comes up to them and says, �What�s the name of your monkey?�

�A monkey!� Joe says. �That�s a monkey, not Mini fucking Mouse.�

The woman backs away. Steve says, �Okay, it�s a monkey. But it�s still a fair way of answering the question � the monkey is heavier than your brain, and Mini Mouse is heavier than the monkey, therefore Mini Mouse is heavier than your brain.�

�How do you know that Mini Mouse is heavier than the monkey?�

�Well, I�ve never actually seen her either, but she�s probably bigger than him.�

�She�s a mouse!�

�Okay, just forget about it so. We�ll have to think of some other way of finding out her weight.�

�So what is the name of the monkey?�

�I don�t know. Jane�s aunt didn�t say. She just said not to call him John Donne.�

When the monkey hears the words �John Donne� he hits Steve over the head with the weighing scales.

Alfred and Marcy had been in the pub to look at it as a possible location for the film, and they were just walking into the beer garden when the monkey hit Steve over the head. Alfred says, �Oh my God! A monkey hitting a man over the head with a weighing scales! We�ve got to get that into the film.�

Alfred tells Joe and Steve that they�ll be in the film if they bring the monkey to the pub tomorrow evening and let him hit Cyril over the head with a weighing scales. The film could definitely do with a medical drama, and Cyril hasn�t been sick a day in his life. Alfred can see him in a hospital bed on a life-support machine, with Beatrice at his side � she comes back from Australia just to be with him.

Joe and Steve completely forget about Mini Mouse. When Joe is on his way home that night he meets Emily with Little Kitty Fake Tan in the front garden of her house. The kitten is in her arms, so Joe doesn�t feel in any immediate danger. He tells her all about the monkey and the weighing scales, and how they�re going to be in the film. This is just the opportunity Emily had been waiting for. She�s been looking for a way to get into Cyril�s life story, and if Alfred lets her play herself, like Penelope and her friend, then she�ll be acting in the film too.

She asks Joe if she can go to the pub with him tomorrow evening, and he says, �Of course you can.� His evening is getting better all the time. First he met Mini Mouse, and that one didn�t work out, but he got to see a monkey hit Steve over the head with a weighing scales, which was even better than meeting Mini Mouse, and then they got into the film, and now Emily is more or less asking him out. And even Little Kitty Fake Tan is starting to seem friendly.

When Joe gets home, Mark is there with Mr. Hollywood-Story Blanket. They�re looking for key rings or red things in the grass, but Joe is more concerned with the air around his head. He can hear a bee. Joe doesn�t get on with the bees.

A few years ago, a cousin of theirs stayed for the weekend, and just before she left, she wrote a note on the kitchen wall: �Thanks for everything. I had a great time.� Joe�s mother tried to wash it off, but she couldn�t. They were going to paint the kitchen in a few weeks anyway, so she decided to leave it there until then.

A friend of Joe�s sister stayed with them for a week that summer, and she was a bit slow. She saw the note on the wall and she thought it might be impolite to leave without writing something, so she left a note on the wall too: �Thanks for everything. I had a great time. A really great time. Thanks.�

The wall started to become like a guest book. Everyone who visited the house left notes, and they all mentioned how great a time they had. Joe�s mother would have painted over the whole wall, but then her aunt left a note, and she died three days later. It was the last thing she wrote, and Joe�s mother couldn�t bring herself to paint over it, so she left all of the notes where they were, and the wall is still used as a guest book.

One day last summer, a bee flew in one of the kitchen windows, stung Joe on the neck, and then flew out another window. Joe thought it was extremely rude of the bee to come into the house just to sting him. He wrote tiny notes on the buttercups in the garden. Things like, �Thanks ever so much for stinging me,� or, �That�s just what I was looking for.�

A few days later he wondered if bees could understand sarcasm, so he added in the words �I�m being sarcastic�.

The following day he saw two words on the kitchen wall that he�d never noticed before: �Well duh�. He wondered if the bees did this � he couldn�t think of anyone else who�d leave a note like that. If they could be rude enough to come into the kitchen just to sting him, then a note like that would be typical of them. Ever since then, he�s been in a battle with the bees. Watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves didn�t make him any more partial to bees. He thought it was a horror film.

Joe walks Mark home. They take the shortcut through the fields behind the houses, but on the way, Mark and Mr. Hollywood-Story Blanket stop and stare at something in the long grass. It�s a bottle top and it�s red.