Fact Not Fiction

Vince is no good at explaining himself.


Characters: ,


Genre: , ,




Length: words

Notes: A little nugget of a story developed in my head with a large helping of inspiration from Death Cab For Cutie, namely their song A Lack of Colour.

So this is a little bit of a drabble that is masquerading as a chapter to start off the story. The next chapter will reveal more of the plot, promise (and probably some form of smut. I really can’t help myself.)Obviously, I have and claim no ownership of any of the writers/characters of The Mighty Boosh. All of this was made up in my mind tank.

Fact Not Fiction by RaspberryCocaine

“Howard. Howard. Howard? Howard. Howard! Howard… Howwarddd! Howard? How…”

“This had better be good.”

“You know how my eyes see you upside down? How does my brain know to put you right way up?”

“Never speak to me again in your life.”

The annoying monkey curled up in armchair waited a beat, weighing up the pros and cons of this request.


“What now?” The feigned annoyance in his voice belied by the amused twinkle in his cockerel eyes.

“Whatcha doin?”


“Oooh, what about?” He got up from the couch to peer over Howard’s shoulder.

The older man scrabbled to gather up the paper from the typewriter out of Vince’s sight.

“Awwwh, Howard! Promise I won’t laugh.”

“Whatever.” Scowling, the Jazz prostitute stalked off to his bedroom leaving a very confused Confuser in his wake.

3 days later….

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. There should not be a mass of purple feathers and sequined material with what looked like silver knee-high platform boots sprawled across his bed

No sir, Howard Moon was a Jazz Poet, not interested in such materialistic things.

“A’right, Howard?”

He should’ve known.

“Why are you on my bed?”

The monstrosity on his bed began to take the shape of something human. A face emerged, with shockingly blue eyes that were wide with mischief while the mouth below was arranging itself into a suitable pout.

“I like it in here Howard. It’s so colourful.”

“You’ve gone wrong, Vince. Your room is about 50 billion times more colourful than this. Since when is ‘aggressive nutmeg’ colourful?”

“Since I decided. There’s a million more colours in this room, from A to Z and more in between. I can see it Howard, it’s bursting at the seams. You just don’t see it.”

“You’ve lost your Kendall mintcake, Vince.”

The feathers moved in what Howard could only assume to be a shrug.

“You’ve just gotta open your eyes Howard.” And Vince melted back into the unidentifiable heap that Howard had walked in on not two minutes ago.

“Well, I need to use MY room now.” He said, irritably trying to nudge the Vincebird off the bed with his foot.

A noncommittal grunt was the only thing he received for his efforts.

“Righto, I’ll just pretend you’re not here then.” A plan was formulating in his mind.


Howard walked over to his record player, and placed the needle onto one of his favourite Jazz records. Not two bars of music had played before his plan came to fruition, the bird of ponce streaking across the room screeching, “Aww HOWARD you berk! You know I’m allergic!” as it slammed the door shut.

Chapter End Notes: Please let me know if you love it, hate it or have any constructive criticism. Next chapter should be up soon, but it will be up quicker if I have comments =D

+ posts