We were all cross after Pitiful Pete’s latest failure. Most people had spent the afternoon sulking, but, you know, when everybody is in a bad mood together, it ends up being fun.

We’d all spent at least an hour complaining about how rubbish our lives were, and then the adults had spent several more hours enthusiastically whinging on about how glorious life used to be – before the monsters came out of the sea, that is. Lana had managed to start several arguments by reminding everybody that the sea levels rising was all the adults’ fault anyway, and that if they’d taken better care of the world then the monsters would have stayed where they were and climate change wouldn’t have happened in the first place. She’d had a great afternoon.

Me, Kate and James had spent that time more sensibly, by cutting a hole into the Jellyfish’s surface and then stuffing it with spiky bits of rubbish. We’d had a wee in there too, in the hope that we’d poison the creature. Now we were all in the Big House listening to the evening lecture by Old Albert. He was on classic form tonight, his eyes raised to the ceiling with an expression of extreme sorrow.

‘They all died horribly, terribly and in agony. Their limbs were wrenched apart, eyeballs pulled out of their heads, faces shredded off, skin peeled away . . .’

There were sighs and a few tuts. Other people were openly chatting.

‘We must be thinking on the ways they died, so we can think on our own horrible, brutal deaths. It’ll be soon! You mark my words, you’re all going to die soon.’

Lana rolled her eyes and gave a loud yawn. Kate tilted her head and nodded sympathetically. She also made direct eye contact with Albert, which is difficult as his eyes can be unpredictable. We’ve told her before never to do that, because just one person who is prepared to at least pretend they’re listening is all Albert needs. Everyone else had zoned out.

‘Do you want some water?’ whispered James. He was holding a can of water in his hand, and had three more in front of him.

‘No, you’re all right,’ I said.

‘There’ll be blood. Lots and lots of blood. The streets will run with rivers of your blood . . .’

‘Sounds like Albert reckons we’ll get off here at least, then,’ said James. He raised his can and slurped the water loudly.

Lana yawned again. This time her mouth stretched so far back that she exposed all her teeth. She had to shake her head afterwards, such was the power of her yawn.

‘He looks pleased about that,’ whispered James. It’s true that Old Albert was getting quite enthusiastic about his Dire Warnings tonight. There were white flecks of spit at the corners of his mouth as he continued: