Think your typing mistakes are all your fault?

Think again!

Dot and her crew were off again on the Super Highway, on what Dot thought was just a wild goose chase - to find The Grimbles, the little creatures in every computer that make you tip the wrang wird...sorry, TYPE THE WRONG WORD...all the time. Well, they do me anyway.

"Mmmm" said Mr Mouse as they sped along the millions of fibre optic channels. "That Roquefort... it's the true cheese lovers' cheese... I'll let you all try some if you're good... "

Wizard glanced sideways at the dreamy little mouse. "I just knew you couldn't resist that bet!" he chuckled. Dot sniffed . "I bet it's really smelly!" she said. She was still worried about the homework she'd left behind, uncompleted.

"Smelly?" said Mr Mouse, shocked. "Smelly? The kid's got no soul! It has a delicate, but strong aroma - smelly?! Gimme a break!"

Banking left and right, the three friends shot past data packets finding their way to the right destination, billions of bytes of information carrying everything from cookery recipes to newspaper articles to live cartoons to love letters and music. The cyberscape they were speeding through, flying like space vehicles, was controlled and organized so that everything got to its right destination in seconds - without bumping into anything else either!

With their magical ability to travel the Internet, the Dot Com crew had exactly the same skill. It was, Dot thought, an amazing feeling - like being on a roller coaster ride high up in the sky. And the colours! It was like a light show in space - brilliant blues, deep, deep reds, shots of silver and gold and green - all weaving fantastic shapes and patterns around them as they sped along.

"Hey!" shouted Mr Mouse, breaking into Dot's thoughts. "What have we here, my friends?"

Without waiting to ask anyone - typical! - he clicked on his computer mouse backpack, and they all slowed down, curving through space to land gently on the cyber-plain below them.

Sitting in the middle of a group of Pentium 4 processors was a very odd sight. It was a pigeon - but not one like you've ever seen before. For a start, it was dressed in an envelope-style T-shirt, neatly tucked in at the corners.

It also wore a pair of smart new trainers , and one of those helmets you see Olympic cyclists wear - swept back in curved shape, streamlined for speed - complete with a headset, the sort that telephonists use. Under the flickering light show that was the world of the Internet, it seemed both quite at home and completely out of place. It also looked extremely cross.

"Cooo!" it said angrily. "And who are you?"