‘No problem. They’ll be at the Filth Factory. That’s where we take all our scoops. My bag’s almost full, I’m on my way there now. Come with me.’

Tancredi, perplexed, was about to reply when the man-pig scuttled off the rubbish tip and disappeared down a pathway, pannier flapping behind him. He stood up and followed, struggling to keep up with the man-pig’s trotting pace.

Presently, Tancredi caught sight of a giant chimney in the distance attached to a box-shaped building. It belched a dirty-looking yellow smoke. As they approached they were hit by a fierce wind emanating from the factory door. Stray newspaper sheets swirled in the air.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Tancredi.

‘That’s the Filth Factory where the papers are printed. The presses run hot twenty-four hours a day. They’re methane-powered – it’s a virtuous circle.’ His piggy hand drew a rapid loop in the air. ‘We write the news, eat the paper, then produce the gas. No planet in the Universe has such an advanced ecology.’

Suddenly a flying newsheet stuck to Tancredi’s face. It read:

‘Double Scoop! Beauty Queen Lost in Space!

‘From your own reporter …

‘The most beautiful girl in the Universe has crash-landed on the planet, accompanied by a child and a dog. See her photo! Phwoooarh! Look at those tits!’

The man-pig started to hop from one trotter to the other. He brought his hands together with little urgent claps.

‘Quick!’ he exclaimed. ‘A real beauty queen!’

As Tancredi approached the factory doorway, he heard a cacophony of squeaking, shouting and oinking. These coalesced into a single bellowed word: ‘Scoop! Scoop! Scoop!’ The ground was shaking. The man-pig barged him out of the way and scuttled into the factory without so much as a glance at his interstellar guest.

There was pandemonium inside. Thousands of man-pigs wearing little green hats were stampeding in a circle around a central furnace, into which were being fed methane panniers. Every so often a solitary animal stopped at the edge of the tumult, practised a can-can kick, then re-joined the herd. The incessant clanking of giant printing presses rose above the noise. The combination of charging man-pigs and manic machines created a furious wind, and hundreds of newspaper sheets were whirling through the air.

The cause of the commotion was immediately obvious. Standing to the side of the furnace, three figures were looking around the factory’s interior in stunned surprise: Cocomo, Tamany and Kasbek. A phalanx of man-pig photographers with obscene distended camera lenses jostled for position in front of Cocomo. Cries of ‘Show us your tits!’ echoed in the air. They slathered and snarled, attempting to frustrate each other’s work with nasty bites and body butts.

Tancredi had to get to his friends, but the sea of man-beasts was mad with excitement. The most exquisite girl in the Universe had arrived on their planet without warning. This was the scoop to end all scoops.

There was nothing for it. Tancredi took a deep breath and plunged in.