A journalist, from the back, was asking a question in a tone of voice that didn't sound in the least bit ingratiating. In fact there was something so uningratiating about the inflection of the voice that Leovinus could barely understand what was being said.

'I said,' repeated The Journalist in that same uncajoling voice, 'how do you answer the allegations that corners have been cut on the construction of the Starship and that there have been financial improprieties involving your manager, Antar Brobostigon, and your accountant, Droot Scraliontis?'

'Such insinuations,' replied Leovinus, forming his toupeed eyebrows into the most formidable frown, and drawing his shoulders back into what he knew was his most dignified and intimidating posture, 'are beneath contempt. Mr Brobostigon is a man of unblemished reputation and with the highest regard for correct procedure. Droot Scraliontis has been my accountant for the last thirty years and his behaviour has been unimpeachable throughout that time.'

He could feel one of his eyebrows starting to come loose. Funny that - he always imagined that as he got older and more confident he would stop sweating whenever he had to tell a bare-faced lie. But he still did.

'But isn't it true that the standard of workmanship on the Starship has dropped since the building was moved from Yassacca to Blerontin?'

'Absolute poop!' declared the Great Genius, in his best how-dare-you-waste-the-time-of-a-great- genius-like-me voice (which he had been practising recently and now had down to a tee). 'I am personally checking the standards of craftsmanship on every facet of the ship, and I can guarantee that standards have - if anything - gone up since the transferral to Blerontin.' He felt his other eyebrow pop loose from his forehead.

'What do you say about the collapse of the Yassaccan economy, Mr Leovinus?' It was the same dreadful journalist going on. Why couldn't someone ask him whether he preferred architecture to quantum physics or whether he felt painting should be considered a higher art-form than canapeŽ arrangement? Those were the kind of questions he was a whizz at dealing with these days. 'Do you feel personally responsible at all for the present sufferings of the Yassaccan people?'