We followed the Floaty Note 6000 across the road and down the tiny little side street, waggling our hands in the air to protect our noses from all the Nom Noms.

‘Tinderbox Alley,’ said Twoface, reading what it said on a dirty old street sign. ‘Never been down here before . . .’

The side street was about a centimetre narrower than the width of a hover-car, which meant there were no hover-cars going down it – only people. The buildings on either side zigzagged into the sky and each one had a tiny little shop at the bottom of it.

A man wearing a back-to-front hover-cap, a baggy white F-shirt¹ and really, really long shorts² was walking down the middle of the road with his arms stretched out in front of him like a zombie and his nose twitching in the air.

‘Hey, I’ve seen him in Bunny Deli loads of times!’ said Jamjar, pushing her glasses up her nose for the eight-millionth time that day, and I wondered why she didn’t invent a pair of glasses that didn’t slide down her nose.

Just then an old lady in a hover-wheelchair vroomed past us, her eyes staring straight ahead.

‘Doesn’t she come into Bunny Deli sometimes too?’ said Twoface.

Not Bird fluttered over to Splorg and landed on his head, which is something Not Bird likes to do.

‘WAAAHHH!!!

NOM NOM!!!’

screamed Splorg, running round in a circle like his ears were on fire. ‘Let’s get the keelness out of here!’

‘Calm down, Splorgy Baby, it’s only Not Bird!’ I chuckled, as the Floaty Note 6000 floated up to a dingy, closed-looking shop.

‘Harry’s Handy Hand Shop,’ said Jamjar, reading what it said on the sign above the door.

‘Quick, before we all get chomped!’ said Splorg, turning the handle, and the door creaked open.