So I’m lying on the floor of the bagel shop choking on a bacon bagel. Out of nowhere, the ceiling opens and I’m looking up at the sky over Bethnal Green. There’s a flash of light. A lift made of glass drops out of the sky and lands next to me with a swoosh. When the lift wobbles a little I realise that what I thought was glass is really some sort of clear membrane pulsing with different-coloured lights. The door slides open with a plop.

From inside, a woman’s voice says ‘Going up, Mr. Koski?’

I step out of my body, which is now still, eyes wide open, and step into the lift. There’s no sign of a woman inside but there is a purple armchair in one corner. Beside this is a small round table, also purple. On the table is a tall glass filled with a liquid that sparkles and constantly changes colour.

‘Sit down, Mr. Koski,’ the voice purrs. ‘Enjoy the ride.’

I settle down into the chair, which feels as if it’s alive and adjusts to fit my body. The drink tastes like a promise come true. I look out the window as we start to rise.

‘I’m dead then am I?’ I say.

The voice giggles. ‘Not exactly, Mr. Koski. Not yet.’

* * *

In no time at all we’re high above the earth. We orbit the planet and I think about how beautiful it is. Strangely, though, I don’t feel sad at leaving it all behind. I’m not sure how I feel. I’ve never been dead before.

I sip from my glass which, of course, stays full and listen to the voice as it sings to itself. She’s singing my favourite ‘Quando, Quando, Quando’ and, after a bit, I realise she sounds exactly like Marilyn Monroe.

‘Am I going to heaven?’ I ask.

‘It depends, Mr. Koski,’ the lift says.

‘On what?’

‘I’m not at liberty to disclose that at this time, Mr. Koski. But don’t worry. We never make mistakes. Please, sit back and enjoy the ride. Boo-boo-be-doo.’

We finish my farewell orbit of the earth and shoot off into space. In no time at all we’ve left the moon behind us and are heading deeper into the galaxy. And, as we pass by shooting stars, through shining constellations and over the surface of planets I had no idea existed, I never spill my drink.

* * *

After a bit, to be honest, I get a little bored with the wonders unfolding outside and the drink that never runs out, delicious though it is. I start looking round the lift. There’s a panel of buttons beside the lift door I could have sworn weren’t there last time I looked. I haul myself out of my purple chair, which doesn’t want to let me go and take a closer look at the buttons, now pulsing a pinky-blue colour. I start at the bottom.

Planet Adler…Planet Blum…Planet Cohen…The list goes on and on until I see Planet Koski. This must be me, I think. When I press the button for Planet Koski the lift stops and wobbles a little. I hear the giggle, followed by ‘Boo-boo-be-doo’. The lift begins to descend in the direction of a pinprick of light far off in the distance.

Watch the electric skies for the second thrilling episode of Hasta La Planet Koski!

Illustrated by the Mighty Mighty Cemmo

As anyone who knows me will tell you, I come alive again when I’m back on the Rock, as I call Mallorca. In a couple of days, I’ll be back on the island after a winter away. Although I can’t wait, I always get a tiny bit nostalgic as I remember the old days in El Arenal, Gomila and Magaluf.

This year, I’ll be continuing to teach my young buddy Hugh Carville how to be a legendary DJ like I was. I call him my apprentice – he loves it. I’ll be appearing at a fine karaoke joint near you, singing my signature tune ‘Quando Quando, Quando’ to my growing cult following. I’ll be perfecting the Lip’s signature brand of sit-down comedy. It’s born out of necessity. I’ve broken more ribs than a family of ten Yanks at an all you can eat Florida rib-joint.

There’s only one fly in the ointment. I keep getting text messages from David my ghostie, asking when I’m going to arrive as he needs the Lip’s sweet talking skills to extricate him from the clutches of the Brazilian missus of Senor Grande of El Arenal.

Don’t worry, folks. David’s not in any danger. It’s just that Senor El Grande lent him a penthouse apartment on the strip at El Arenal while David was writing Grande’s memoirs. Seems Grande’s much younger Brazilian wife, Carmen Banana, took a shine to David and took to visiting at all sorts of odd hours. She demanded he start teaching her yoga and creative writing. David refused but Senora Banana threatened to go to Grande and tell him David had tried it on with her. Now, anyone who knows David will tell you that he’s hardly the Casanova type but Grande don’t know that.

So, the Lip has to have a sit-down with Carmen Banana and ever so gently put her straight – or bent – about David. I think I’ll tell her he’s a closet trannie. Well, David’s always telling me to think creative.

And, by the time I do see David, that paella he owes me is going to be the size of a swimming pool. Which reminds me of the story of the Portals Vells Paella Plate Wars. Read the hilarious story in my book Hasta La Flip-Flops!