Mervyn is never allowed to forget his guilty past. The fans won't let him. This is why, twenty years later, Mervyn reluctantly finds himself at 'ConVix 15', a Science Fiction convention. It's a funny thing; it seems everywhere Mervyn's dormant career takes him, there are murders. Here's another funny thing. Mervyn, with his script editor's eye for sorting out plot-holes in stories, seems to be the only one able to solve them. If only he'd taken that job on Bergerac...

Mervyn Stone was once the script-editor of an old BBC television series which gripped the nation in the 1980s; a sexy space saga featuring large-breasted women and even larger-breasted men. Vixens from the Void is the reason why Mervyn's career, though dead, still has spasms of life, like the odd twitch on a cooling corpse. It's the reason why Mervyn is invited to take part in a DVD commentary discussing one of the more controversial (and, let's face it, blasphemous) episodes of Vixens from the Void. And it's the reason why Mervyn has to become an amateur detective. Again. During the commentary, one of the participants is poisoned by a bottle of water randomly taken from a table. No one knows how the poison got into the bottle. The bottles were sealed. No other bottles contained poison. An impossible crime. The victim was a high profile atheist, who made a career out of enraging Christian groups with his provocative books and interviews. The whispers 'Act of God'? As the bodies pile up and he's pursued by crazed fans, mad actresses, suspicious policemen and mental fundamentalists, Mervyn is starting to feel like God's got it in for him too.

It's the announcement all its fans have been waiting for! After seventeen long years, they're bringing back the science-fiction TV series Vixens from the Void; an intergalactic story of Space Bitches which was as 80s as Hair Gel, Live Aid and the Brixton Riots. So it's bright lights, good times and the high life for ex-script editor Mervyn Stone again! Or so he thought - The reason why he is stuck in a pub in the the backside of Cornwall, with no decent television channels, no central heating and a badger in his bed eludes him at the moment. His breakfasts smell of burning flesh, and his underpants are starting to coagulate. And to make matters worse, someone is trying to kill him. Is it the incompetent director who hates Mervyn from way back? The mad fan who wants the relaunch stopped at all costs? The flaky ambitious star? The executive producer with 'issues'? The arrogant womanising actor? The writer pretending to be something he's not? The producer with a guilty secret? Mervyn is learning something very important. Perhaps the past should stay in the past.