He looked about the bar for inspiration, and caught sight of a snout peeping around the open doorway. Kasbek had acquired a sense of the absurd from his new master. He seemed to understand the amusing potential of his pointy proboscis. He was poking it in and out of the doorway by way of announcing his arrival, Tamany in tow. They had exhausted the game of hide-and-seek, and had come to find their travelling companion.

‘No young ‘uns allowed in the bar,’ said the barman.

‘Don’t worry, he’s a grown-up dog,’ Tamany shot back.

The barman grunted; he couldn’t be bothered to argue.

Cocomo gunned Tancredi with her black eyes; his feelings for Bonnita were obvious.

‘So a harlot’s no match for an angel?’

She chopped the air with the flat of her hand, as if she was about to give him another slap.

‘I thought you were a serious man on a mission to save your world? And yet you fall for a girl who’s never carried a single meaningful thought in her head. Is that long-term thinking? I should have hit you harder.’

Tancredi’s eyes glazed over, he mumbled something about innocence and beauty which would have certainly activated a CrapOmeter. Bonnita stroked her perfect mane, and wiped away another injured tear. Without warning a hand flew towards Tancredi and connected with his cheek.

‘Wake up!’ screeched Cocomo.

This time Tancredi did not protest. He was under assault from every direction, not least his own feelings. He nursed his sore face. He knew that he was weak. He could easily lose his mind, pride, money over a girl. When the fire of passion ignited, the feeling of desperation was overwhelming. So often he’d been certain he had met the perfect other who must be possessed, then paraded in public, an exquisite adornment to his being. Now he was sure Bonnita was the one.

Cocomo had observed this affliction at close hand. Tancredi was only its latest victim. Men would do or say anything to conquer a girl. She wished she had recorded all the promises, lies and boasts aimed at her. The embarrassment to her suitors would be excruciating. Men were pathetic. The worst part was the lack of originality in the seduction ritual. Weren’t they ashamed of the cliché?

Yet there was something about Tancredi she liked. His statement of purpose – to save the Earth – was absurd, way beyond the boastfulness allowed by the rules of the game. He might even be sincere. Skilled in dealing with the machinations of men, she sensed a naïve honesty she had never encountered before. She decided to persevere a little longer.

‘OK, let’s explore this,’ she said, smiling at her victim.

‘The first girl has a perspective on life. She compromises in certain ways, but she has thought things through. She wants to improve her situation, then she’ll move on. Most of all, she’s true to herself. This girl is rejected.

‘The second girl is incapable of a selfless thought – her kindnesses are performed only to salve her conscience. She follows the standard pattern: happiness grabbing, lust, marriage, decline and failure. She doesn’t hesitate to break her holy vows. Her reward? The hero sweeps her off to a life of introspective bliss.’