Good Omens

Johnson."
    The Them nodded. They all knew Greasy Johnson and the members of the other gang in Lower Tadfield. They were older and not very pleasant. Hardly a week went by without a skirmish.
    "Well, " said Adam, "We always win, right?"
    "Nearly always," said Wensleydale.
    "Nearly always," said Adam, "An'.. "
    "More than half, anyway," said Pepper. "'Cos, you remember, when there was all that fuss over the ole folks' party in the village hall when we.. "
    "That doesn't count," said Adam. "They got told off just as much as us. Anyway, old folks are s'pposed to like listenin' to the sound of children playin', I read that somewhere, I don't see why we should get told off 'cos we've got the wrong kind of old folks.. " He paused. "Anyway ... we're better'n them."
    "Oh, we're better'n them," said Pepper. "You're right about that. We're better'n them all right. We jus' don't always win."
    "Just suppose," said Adam, slowly, "that we could beat 'em properly. Get.. get them sent away or somethin'. Jus' make sure there's no more ole gangs in Lower Tadfield apart from us. What do you think about that?"
    "What, you mean he'd be ... dead?" said Brian.
    "No. Jus'.. jus' gone away."
    The Them thought about this. Greasy Johnson had been a fact of life ever since they'd been old enough to hit one another with a toy railway engine. They tried to get their minds around the concept of a world with a Johnson.. shaped hole in it.
    Brian scratched his nose. "I reckon it'd be brilliant without Greasy Johnson," he said. "Remember what he did at my birthday party? And I got into trouble about it."
    "I dunno," said Pepper. "I mean, it wouldn't be so interesting without ole Greasy Johnson and his gang. When you think about it. We've had a lot of fun with ole Greasy Johnson and the Johnsonites. We'd probably have to find some other gang or something."
    "Seems to me," said Wensleydale, "that if you asked people in Lower Tadfield, they'd say they'd be better off without the Johnsonites or the Them."
    Even Adam looked shocked at this. Wensleydale went on stoically: "The old folks' club would. An' Picky. An'.. "
    "But we're the good ones ..." Brian began. He hesitated. "Well, all right," he said, "but I bet they'd think it'd be a jolly sight less interestin' if we all weren't here."
    "Yes," said Wensleydale. "That's what I mean."
    "People round here don't want us or the Johnsonites," he went on morosely, "the way they're always goin' on about us just riding our bikes or skateboarding on their pavements and making too much noise and stuff. It's like the man said in the history books. A plaque on both your houses."
    This met with silence.
    "One of those blue ones," said Brian, eventually, "saying 'Adam Young Lived Here,' or somethin'?"
    Normally an opening like this could lead to five minutes' rambling discussion when the Them were in the mood, but Adam felt that this was not the time.
    "What you're all sayin'," he summed up, in his best chairman tones, "is that it wouldn't be any good at all if the Greasy Johnsonites beat the Them or the other way round?"
    "That's right," said Pepper. "Because," she added, "if we beat them, we'd have to be our own deadly enemies. It'd be me an' Adam against Brian an' Wensley," She sat back. "Everyone needs a Greasy Johnson," she said.
    "Yeah," said Adam. "That's what I thought. It's no good anyone winning. That's what I thought." He stared at Dog, or through Dog.
    "Seems simple enough to me," said Wensleydale, sitting back. "I don't see why it's taken thousands of years to sort out."
    "That's because the people trying to sort it out were men," said Pepper, meaningfully.
    "Don't see why you have to take sides," said Wensleydale.
    "Of course I have to take sides," said Pepper. "Everyone has to take sides in something."
    Adam appeared to reach a decision.
    "Yes. But I reckon you can make your own side. I think you'd better go and get your bikes," he said quietly. "I think we'd better sort of go and talk to some people."
    * * *

    Putputputputputput, went Madame Tracy's motor scooter down Crouch End High Street. It was the only vehicle moving on a suburban London street jammed with immobile cars and taxis and red London buses.
    "I've never seen a traffic jam like it," said Madame Tracy. "I wonder if there's been an accident."
    "Quite possibly, " said Aziraphale. And