Helman fell off the edge of the world with a bump and sat on the little ledge which runs round it, out of view from anyone except God who, if He was watching, doubtless chuckled a little and got on with His Work.

There was no way back up, just this shelf made of grey stuff and beyond it the stars. Drips of ocean splashed onto Helman, but apart from that and the sensation of being alone, he felt fine. If anything he was irritated. Because it upset Helman to be proved wrong, a quality which involved him in an awful lot of arguments. Such as the one that got him thrown off the Santa Rosa.

‘So go find out yourself!’ a furious voice had shouted from the stern rail.

‘Yeah, screw you!’ another had said.

Helman looked around the ledge. There was nothing but its flat surface, and he had just begun to wonder if what was happening was real when he heard a voice.

‘Oh hallo gosh we’ve got a live one have we only I walk the circumference cleaning up you see and it takes a year and a bit and the fact is I usually find you chaps dead what’s your name?’

A little man stood there, no higher than a child. He held a cart with a pole laid across it on one end of which was a shepherd’s crook, on the other a wide-headed broom. The little man’s left hand was not a hand at all, but a coarse-toothed circular saw.

So now, at least, Helman knew: this wasn’t real.

And whilst he used that thought to ease his panic the little man reached out with the crook, hooked Helman’s neck and messily sawed off his head.

Using the broom the little man brushed Helman off the ledge.

Then he went on his way.