The delectable Princess Bonjella chats over a round or two of buttered toast.

Name:	Princess Bonjella
Occupation:	Damsel (In distress when required)
Qualifications:	Gullibility, easy to knock out, rich family
Distinguishing Marks:	Permanent scarring from chains, handcuffs, ropes, industrial tape, electrical cables and, once, a fat henchman's belt
Ace's Notes:	There will be time for explanations later. And hopefully some sex.

Hello Your Highness, would you like some toast?

Oh, thank you. Yes, I would rather.

Really?!

Is something the matter?

No no no. It's just... I'm not used to people saying yes.

Well, I have, sweet toaster. So bring on the brown bread.

Abso-diddly-lutely! While that's cooking, why don't you tell me about yourself?

Well, why don't we do that on the way.

On the way where?

To your secret lair.

My secret lair?

You don't have a secret lair?

No. Not unless you count the bread bin.

Well, where are you going to hold me until my father pays your ransom?

I'm not... I mean, I wasn't planning on...

Tell you what, I'll knock myself out -

No!

You... you don't want to kidnap me?

No, of course not.

Really? Most people do.

Well not me. I just want to make you toast.

Oh, I see - which you can force-feed me in the basement of your secret hideout?

Not really.

You really don't want to kidnap me, do you?

No.

Well, why not?

Huh?

I demand to know why you aren't plotting to kidnap me.

I... well... that is to say...

My father is king of War World, I'll have you know. He's extremely wealthy, and he prizes my life above that of his favourite corgi, Barnaby. He'll pay any ransom, accept any demand for my safe return.

Would he eat a thousand rounds of toast each day for the rest of his life?

He would - I'm sure of it.

Well, maybe I could... No. No! I can't!

If you don't kidnap me, I'll tell my father on you.

Listen, could we maybe start again? Here, look, your toast is ready.

Mmm. Thank you. Yummy.

Hey, slow down, there's plenty more.

You're the first of my kidnappers to feed me so well, Toaster. I'm very grateful.

Thank you, I... Hang on. Now wait a minute, I told you I'm not kidnapping you.

Oh. "Right". Wink wink.

Look, okay, whatever. Now "my prisoner", why don't you tell me a bit about yourself.

Okay. Well, my name's Beryl, daughter of King Brian Bonjella. I'm 27, five foot five, and my hobbies include skiing, scuba diving and recovering from minor concussions.

When the conflict came to War World, we were all surprised. Odd really, you'd think that, given the name, we'd have been expecting it. But still, battles scarred our once-beautiful lands. I became involved with an underground resistance movement.

How were you involved?

Well, they kidnapped me.

I suppose I should have seen that one coming.

They thought they could blackmail my father into funding their fight. But before they could contact him they were attacked by the enemy. Some were killed, some were injured, some were too busy watching soap opera re-runs to notice.

But you were freed by this attack?

Not really. They mistook me for one of the resistance and... um...

Kidnapped you?

Yes. The moment they found out who I was - and who my father was.

And how did they find that out?

I told them.

Right.

It hardly seems fair otherwise. They still weren't sure, so eventually I had to spin them some nonsense about me having stolen the secret plans to their ultimate weapon.

But you hadn't?

They took some convincing. Not least because they hadn't heard of this weapon. Still, that proved it was secret, anyway. In the end I had to provide a diagram - so I scribbled a drawing of my Heat 400 hairdryer. They were fooled, and finally dragged me off.

Erm... well done?

Of course, my rouse couldn't last forever. They were pretty angry when they found out that there were no stolen plans. But I convinced them that the plans actually belonged to the resistance - they kept me alive long enough to build the device.

The... hairdryer?

Thirty feet tall, fifty feet long, and powerful enough to blow-dry a rainforest.

They must have been furious!

Not at all - wave after wave of their opponents were driven back by high-powered blasts of hot hair. Waves of troops left the battlefield...

With full-bodied curls, no doubt...

Still, they couldn't risk me giving away their secret designs - so Captain Voorhese had me scheduled for execution. To prevent the plans getting out.

Ah, so by this time you really did have the enemy's secret plans. Oh, the irony!

Funnily enough irony wasn't uppermost in my mind by the time I was strapped to a pole in front of a firing squad.

Well, of course not...

I was more concerned by the outfit they'd put me in.

Okay...

Typical villains. Change you into something tight and red before scheduling you for death. It's classic. Not a thought for whether it's a perfect fit, not a care for visible pantyline.

That's what you were worrying about?!

Hey, it's your final moment alive, you're being watched by a dozen well-toned guys...

The firing squad...

The last thing you want to be thinking is "Does my bum look big in this?"

Were there any last requests? Possibly involving the creation of a great deal of toasted tea-cakes?

Sadly not. And it didn't matter. Ace Rimmer, my hero, was on his way by then. Parachuting in, crashing through roofs, screeching around on his bike. What a guy.

Had you met him before?

Never. But his name is legendary. He scooped me up on his mighty -

Woh, hang on!

Vehicle. On his mighty vehicle. And we flew off into the sky.

Amazing dude, that one.

I thought so, too. But he really doesn't understand a... woman's needs.

Really? Him?!

Seriously. I was sat on the back of his bike and suddenly he went all... funny. He dropped me off the first chance he could get. Weird. All I did was ask him what ransom he was going to ask for...

Thank you, Princess Bonjella. One final question - would you like some toast?