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Friday 27 October

Tim TimBob Cadman was killed by someone

Edward Penfold Elias was killed by someone

The Red Baron (Fridolin Baldenius) took his own life:

After being weighed down by powers beyond his control The Red Baron had to aknowledge that at least in this life he will not be able to live up to his high assassination standards. Therefore I will now do the honourable thing and cut my wrists while hanging myself and shoot myself in the head. After that a close friend will attach weights to my body and throw it in the Cam. In my next life I will hopefully be able to redeem my incomptence!

Jack Rudd (Horny Protoceratops) was taken out by Stealth:

Confirmation of contracted hit on Jack Rudd of Girton College, at 1.20pm today in Wolfson Court, airport lounge. Discrete and silent hit, painless death, shot to the heart with air pistol using "window sucker" rounds.

The Black Death made an attack:

Today through fear of being a known criminal wanted by the foolish police force I was forced to make a rushed strike against one of my targets. My accomplice and I entered Churchill College from the rear so as not to arouse suspicion. Under the guise of drumming up support for a speech at Guildhall delivered by the Archbishop of Canterbury. After knocking on the door my target asked us to "come in". The target, either scared of Churches or smelling a rat, fell silent and pretended not to be at home. Seconds later there were footsteps to his neighbours door and the smell of a trap filled the air.

Rushing down the stairs we were lucky to escape as other doors flung open. I waited under the stairs for several minutes expecting my accomplice, and hoping it would allow me to taste the pleasure of a shot in the enemy's back.

He won't be so lucky next time.

The Absurd Mouse of the Mountains makes a dash to avoid incompetence:

Essay, Essay, Essay... such is the life of one such as I. But wait! So much time have I devoted to essays, that my first Contract from the Guild of Assassins has almost expired. Reading the small print, I find that I am likely to expire with the contract - the only option is a terminal renewal.

Hastily I run to the house of one of my targets... but he's out! Never mind, It's only 5:47, so I move with all speed to the next, and lay siege to the room. Unfortunately no-one comes or goes before 5:58, at which time I leave in order to report to Guild Operatives on time.

Let all be warned - The Absurd Mouse of The Mountains is never incompetent, but is merely biding its time!

By means of a secret ritual involving voodoo and Worcester sauce, several of the murdered policemen now LIVE AGAIN! *cue manic laughter*

The incompetence list has also been put up.


Richard Peter Woodworth was poisoned by Psycosix:

Let me tell you a little something about murder... Its fun... its easy... and you're gonna learn all about it.

One of my assassins kindly provided me with a poisoned letter. Never one to waste anything, it had been kept in a sealed container until such time as now. The letter was 'reloaded' with 1/4 bottle of a specialist poison gas known as 'RL Polo Sport' and left between the fire door and his room, in the dark and out of sight behind his bin. If he sees it before he smells it... He either has a cold or he spends his life walking round with a hanky on his face...

Psycosix slew Zoe Bennett (Banshee)

She opened the door and looked upon the face of innocence. The knife slid easily between her ribs and found its mark. Only when it twisted within her did she look down and see what had already killed her. Her legs failed her and she fell against the wall, slumping to the floor. Tion looked on remorseless, all traces of innocence gone. Psycosix wiped clean the blade that had been the Banshee's undoing on the corpse's clothes and returned the weapon to its place of concealment. He stared into the eyes as they began to glaze over, losing the brightness and vibrance they had had in life.
He derived no joy from the kill. It was just another contract fulfilled. One day he might get to kill someone interesting. One day he would gaze into the eyes of his victim and see the sheer beauty of their death.

Kill a man and become a murderer,
Kill a hundred and become a conqueror,
Kill everyone and become a God.
Psycosix turned and followed Tion towards what he saw as only the next step in his Deification

Banshee wails from the grave:
I have been most foully slain by two braggarts who did not even deign to tell me their names! I was in the middle of a very abstract book on the method of sharpening one's knife, and so consequently was quite confused when a knock sounded at my door. I was not at my best, else the fact that it was late at night would have alerted me to the fact that it was too late at night for it to be any innocent... I opened the door, answered to my name and then a man came from out of hiding to murder me at my very doorstep. As I lay on the ground, dying from a cruel thrust to the heart, I heard the two laugh with glee and then leave me to bleed in peace.
Requiescat in pace, Banshee, for never shall thy scream rent the night more...

Tion killed Tara Allitt(The Hungry Loner)

Following on from our first successful hit (reported elsewhere) we decided that killing people too incompetent to have made any hits was a relaxing and fun way to spend our Friday evening, and, how lucky there was a lazy lady by the name of Tara 'the hungry loner' conveniently close by. Proceding there with my beautiful assisstant (to preserve their anonimity to be know as 'Samantha') we settled on the cunning ploy of knocking on the door. It was answered by a faintly puzzled but friendly looking Tara suspecting nothing other than a couple of mormons here to aid her in finding God. In a way of course she was correct, upon confirmation that she was the required Tara (or a Tara; I wasn't fussy) a cunning use of Varsity rendered her unconcious and Sam's knife gutted her before she fell to the floor. Job over and feeling rather hungry after all our effots we retired for chocolate fondue.

Saturday 28 October

Louise Bubbles Davies was subjected to police brutality by Sergeant Hitman

Traffic Policeman Garrett witnessed the affair:
I have just witnessed a most depraved act. I was brought to my door by the knocking of Sergeant Hitman, who was shouting something about a "present". Upon further investigation I discovered that he had with him a handcuffed Louise Davies who was bleeding from both arms and was missing most of one leg. Suddenly the air filled with the strains of "Stuck in the Middle with You", and "Bubbles" was forced into a chair and tied up. Hitman then proceeded to cut off her ear before sprinkling petrol all over her (probably ruining her interesting hair in the process, but given what comes next...) while dancing around the room madly. Then he shot her. Repeatedly. And also some poor innocent who had come to see what all the fuss was about and picked up a gun. The man's a psycho. I'm very glad he's on my side.

Sgt. Hitman explains his behaviour:
Dressed in my classy Giorgio Beretta suit, I proceeded to the suspect's room. Upon arrival it was noticed that the key to the room was actually in the lock. However rude, the opportunity of charging in without warning was too good to miss. And so I did, Pietro Beretta pistol in hand:

"Police! Put your hands above your head! Drop to your knees! Do it! Do it NOW!"

The suspect was intimidated, and complied immediately. I promptly handcuffed her and brought her to the Chief Of Police, who happened to live nearby.

And then no more Mr Good Cop. Chief Garrett and I dragged the suspect to my room, along with some friends who expressed their desire to witness the event. There, we tied her to a chair, without removing the handcuffs. That done, I switched the radio on and greatly increased the volume... and oh how convenient! Stealer's Wheel - Stuck In The Middle With You was playing. So I slapped her a little then cut her ear off. Heh. And not content with that, I soaked her with a petrol can I always keep in my bag. But I couldn't find a lighter, what a tragedy. So I shot her repeatedly with Chief Garrett's Smith & Wesson pistol.

Shortly after that, I noticed one of the witnesses was holding and examining a weapon (remarkably similar to my own Beretta, interestingly enough...), so I preemptively slit his throat. Can't be too careful these days, as I always say.

Will McNair (The Dude) was blown into bitty pieces by a mailbomb left by The Saint

As I returned from an eminently productive session of maths, pondering on the wonders therein, I decided to check my pigeonhole for news from the outside world. My mind on higher things (toast, mainly), I failed to notice that the careers guide stuffed into my hole was rather bulky at the cover. As I wandered away from the plodge, I absent-mindedly turned the first leaf...
To my great surprise, I discovered it was my Birthday. Well, according to Michael Caine (in the guise of a musical birthday card) it was, and who would argue with him. Unfortunately, before I could blow out the candles on my cake, i was blown to smithereens by the C4 contained within the hollowed out shell of the double-crossing careers guide - yet again they have let me down. As night descended upon my eyes, I heard an ethereal voice, within me or without I know not, saying: "You're only supposed to blow the bloody cover off!"

Alas, I am no more. Bugger.

Sgt. Hitman and Gareth Mr Scary Wilson simultaneously shot one another:

Anyway, that done, I went to scout wanted criminal Gareth Wilson's area, while Chief Garrett performed digital checks to find out more information on him. While examining the territory, I heard his mobile phone go off... good opportunity. So I knocked on his door (which I could tell was locked, having lived in the same building before).

"Who is this? Will open in a second, mobile's ringing?"
"Hi, someone dropped some Engineering Mechanics notes outside here, are they yours?"
"Wait a sec" he said, beginning to answer the phone.

At that point I figured something was wrong, but I decided to carry on regardless - retreating at that point would only increase the suspect's paranoia level, and anyway I knew the Chief would assist me soon.

But the door opened, revealing him and, more worryingly, his large revolver. So we shot each other - I took two .357 Magnum slugs to the head whereas his torso was torn apart by eight 9mm Silvertip Hollow Point rounds.

Why do I always get the paranoid suspects? Except for Miss Davies that is, can't complain about that...

Sergeant Hitman signing off.

For his sterling work in apprehending two wanted criminals, Sgt. Hitman has been posthumously promoted to Deputy Chief

Chris The Hand o'God Pearson was inhumed by PC Krimson

Today I found one of my neighbours on the incompetence list. What a disgrace. I immediately took decisive action.
Chris Pearson unsuspectingly opened his door. He seemed to be unarmed, but his hair looked a bit threatening. In preemptive self defense I therefore shot him three times in the chest. And then once more in the head. Better safe than sorry, you know.

Chris Pearson relates:
Yes, they hunted me down like a dog. My overconfident faith in the insane layout of Market Hostel to protect me from all and sundry was shown for the false comfort it was when a policeman who lives here came and shot me repeatedly for my laziness. May I rest in peace.

Lee The Chief Anderson has been eliminated by Sgt. Estella

Jenna Merykare Spellane was brought to justice by PC Roscoe and PC Eviiil One. Report to follow...

Sgt. Wiggum mashed Krunal Jashapara:

Krunal Jashapara leaves his room with a friend. When he turns away a dark shadow drops silently from the ceiling. Then it says:"Hey, Krunal."
Krunal turns around.
"Krunal? Krunal Jashapare?" *hand slips into coat*
"I was just wondering, whether..."
"Well, actually I am Krunal."
"Really?" *draws gun*
Krunal tries to duck, but he is not fast enough.
Despite just having had his friend's brains splashed over him the second guy is more interested in the gun than in his friend's fate:
"Wow, that's a cool gun. Can I have a look at it?"
"Sure." *puts safety catch on gun, moves behind second person, hands over gun*
"Yes, I know, but have a look at this." *demonstrates what a knife looks like when coming out of a chest*

A guy wielding a trident was shot outside Adam Brown's staircase.
His identity could not be confirmed, but it is believed he was not a player.

I perforated Richard Woodworth with a few bullets, but then I spotted the weird colour of his face and the poisoned letter lying on the floor.
It seems like someone was faster...

Chris Greased Lightning Rice was sent to his rest by Sgt. Krimson:

I paid a visit to Chris Rice at St John's college. A woman (his mother?) opened the door for me. It seems like his family was there to visit him. They all watched in horror as I proceeded to summarily execute Chris.

PC Ekhanpilt publicly executed Naji Ug Gug Sayed Ashry:

I am pleased to inform the assassins-community that I have removed a dangerous threat to all eager killers this morning, preventing his laziness from spreading further through the ranks. Having anticipated that my victim would be wanted for incompetence, I checked the website this morning before lectures, just to be sure, and indeed he was, along with plenty of others. Planning his death took not much effort: several still unknowing bystanders and I gathered at the porters lodge as usual before lectures, and then I waited. My gun was resting in my hand in my pocket, ready to do its duty - but would he be prepared? He should know that I was a PC, maybe he would not be afraid of comitting other crimes now he was wanted? But when he arrived he seemed unsuspicious, he checked his pigeonhole and then proceeded to buy his breakfast from one of the vending machines. He briefly joined in the conversation, but then, feeling only slightly guilty, I did what I had to do: I stepped towards him, "Oh by the way ... you're dead for incompetence!", at the same time I drew my weapon, he didn't even look surprised, a single shot, and he tumbled to the ground with a bullet in his chest, still holding a half-eaten chocolate-bar that cannot be named for legal reasons. The bystanders were shocked, but when I explained that I had been killed a couple of days ago, as a result of which I had now joined the police force, whose duty it is to kill wanted criminals, and that the shot criminal had been wanted for incompetence and not actually killing anyone, which is a crime, the penalty for which is death. The situation was resolved, and we proceeded to lectures.

Really, starting off your day with an execution is a splendid thing to do, I suggest you try it.

PC Smith eliminated Peter Dr. Nemesis Histridge:

At approximately 2100 on Saturday evening, myself (PC Smith) and PC Lyons decided we would pay Dr Nemesis a visit. Essential pre-emptive reconnaisance by PC Lyons led me in to the final attack. Incompetent to the end, his door unlocked, and loud music to mask my approach. With PC Lyons in tow, I approached the open door, to find him with his back to me, sat on his bed. I rapidly approached, and christened my COLT MK IV on the back of his head - Very effective I think he'd agree - If he could.....

Further attempts on 3 other wanted villians were attempted, but do not fear, they won't rest for long...

Steve BigSteve Atkinson was mashed by PC The Eviiil One and PC Roscoe

Police: Please note that you may not use poison or bombs except inside your targets room (unless it's shared).

Sunday 29 October

Adam Brown was found dead when police raided his room. The body appeared to have been there for two days. He was clutching a letter penned by Varys the Eunuch:

I went to St John's today...
*scratches hairless chin*
My little birds reports me that Mr Brown is now green.

The letter read:

Part-time job centre
3 St Paul's Road

Dear Mr Brown,

We are very pleased to announce recent vacancies in the Assassins' Guild police force. The number of candidates being rather low, we have been forced to go and seek some ourselves. You have been selected by our committee. Unfortunately the regulations of the force are very strict on one point : PCs must be (un)dead.

You will now feel that your hands are slowly decomposing. This will shortly be followed by green slime painfully exhuding from your chest.
We deeply regret the violence of the method, but the fundings of our medical squad are tragically low, thus preventing us from designing pain-free poison.

Yours sincerely, The Lord Varys

Sgt. P Zero tried his luck:

I've spent a considerable part of this afternoon visiting the nearby colleges to "visit" the incompetents. And even Mr Palmer has gone into hiding. I was tempted to storm his room, but since his roommate, an innocent, is in the first room I couldn't risk it. Unless harbouring a known fugitive is a punishable offence ;) I'll get him, he has to eat some time.

As a wise man once said:

"Now we play the waiting game....Ah the waiting game sucks. Lets play Hungry hungry hippos."

Homer Simpson.

The 'Police' Squad (Inspector Wiggum and Dave Hammond) went out on patrol:

Well, I woke up this morning feeling in a law-abiding mood, and so I decided to discharge my duties by organising a police patrol around some of Cambridge's most dangerous colleges. I waited for Inspector Wiggum down at the Yard, and once he arrived for work, we set off in a patrol car.

First stop was Downing College, and the wanted criminal BigSteve. This inconsiderate felon had failed to leave his door open, however, and we didn't want to inconvenience other residents with the use of our crowbar, so we decided to come back later with a bomb.

Next up was Pembroke, and the rogue Dr. Practitioner, once known throughout the Cambridge force as a handy coroner for those moments when people "have an accident in the cells." Unfortunately, The Practitioner outlived his usefulness when he missed this month's payment, and so we had no option but to place an explosive device upon his door after he refused to "come down to the station."

Inspector Wiggum reports:
This morning the great chief Dave Hammond and I set off to eliminate the remaining incompetents, but it proved difficult to actually find any of them.
BigSteve appeared to be away for the weekend, The Practioner probably was in his room when Dave Hammond fixed one of his bombs to the door, while I covered him.

The Practitioner gloats:
You guessed right! Practitioner was in his room when Dave Hammond planted his device. The far from quiet manner in which the deed was undertaken alerted me that something was up, and low and behold a quick peep through the eye hole confirmed my worst fears. A quick phonecall and the amateur device was neutralised by an ally, and it now sits on my desk awaiting retaliation. I'd make sure you get someone to check your door for you from now on Dave. see you soon

Then we went to see Adam Brown, but when we burst in his room with gas-masks over our faces (I think our Chief of Police will never forget his gas-mask again), we discovered him on his sofa with...let's say an interesting colour scheme on him: purple & pink stripes...

Dave Hammond continues:
King's and Queen's provided little in the way of action, although we did confiscate a few choice "stolen goods" and place a "police aware" sticker on Cripps' Building. If it's not moved by the end of the week, the force will have no option but to tow it away and blow it up.

Neil Wesley Page was fast, but not faster than a speeding bullet from Dave Hammond's gun:

Demoralised by our failure to nail anybody's head to their floor, we distracted ourselves by turning on the siren, flooring the accelerator and seeing how many major accidents we could cause on the way to Churchill. It may be just an average day's work for the modern Traffic Policeman, but we still enjoy it - especially the way nobody dares to crash into the police vehicle in front, even when we suddenly apply the handbrake at 80mph.

Once at Churchill, we decided to "interview" Neil Page regarding his application for the police force. Whilst we were filling out the application form (which happened to be made out of Semtex), someone else came to look for our interviewee. Following standard police procedure, we clapped the witness in handcuffs and a ball-and-chain, "for his own protection" and dragged him to Exhibit A, the hockey meeting. As our undercover agents had correctly surmised, Page was there, and our witness was easily induced to point him out. The criminal's attempt at ritual suicide failed due to his falling onto the wrong end of his hockey stick, and so he made the mistake of resisting arrest by running away. Inspector Wiggum decided to burn off his early morning donuts and so gave chase, though I preferred to prime and fire my heat-signature-seeking exorcet missile. Seeing this, the criminal ran back towards me, perhaps seeking to confuse the missile - but instead ensuring that it chose him as target instead of DI Wiggum. I wasn't concerned who got hit first - I will not tolerate donut consumption on MY police force - but I must admit that Mr. Page made a very pretty smoking crater. All that remained was to give the witness a good kicking, for "wasting police time" and tell him to present himself at the station next week to "make a statement" and have his 'cuffs removed.

Inspector Wiggum narrates:
We proceeded to Churchill, where we easily located the room of the criminal Wesley. When Dave Hammond was fixing a bomb to his door, someone came into the corridor and went towards Wesley's door. He was interrogated at gun-point and informed us that the criminal ought to be at his hockey training...
So we had a look around the sports ground, but couldn't see anyone there, when suddenly we saw a group of people standing near the College bar with hockey sticks in their hands. One of them was the person we had met in the corridor and he waved at us, pointed at a guy and shouted:"He's here, that's him over there!"
Wesley tried to commit suicide upon spotting me, but failed due to the non-lethal nature of his hockey stick and decided to leg it.
I drew my guns and gave chase, but he was fast and I didn't catch up very quickly so that my shots fell short.
Meanwhile Dave Hammond just kept standing where he was, because hockey players are just too fast for his like (as some PCs and a Chief have experienced last Michaelmas).
After I had chased Wesley a few times around the place, Dave finally decided to do something and cut off the incompetents way. The criminal probably thought my valiant companion was just an unarmed accomplice and tried to run directly past him.
His mistake became evident when only his legs made it past Dave Hammond, while the rest of him was flying in the other direction due to the impact of the high velocity slugs.

Now we realised there was another wanted criminal in Churchill: Uncle Enzo. Dave Hammond positioned himself just outside the criminal's window, as his ability to climb out of it was well-known to us, then I went into the staircase, when I suddenly realised that the guy that had walked into there just in front of me had just gone into Uncle Enzo's room. I threw myself round the corner and opened fire at the criminal, but only hit his arm, as he slammed the door shut just in time. Sadly he also noticed that someone was waiting outside his window and therefore refused to come out.

Dave Hammond finishes:
Rest assured that Cambridge is once again a safer, more pleasant, and above all, more profitable place. Criminals, informers, narcs, innocents, beware - the Law will be enforced.

Philipp Uncle Enzo Michel, another incompetent, bites the dust. Courtesy of PC Lyons

I am writing to report the death of Philipp Uncle Enzo Michel. This one took patience. A real stake out performed by myself (PC Lyons) and Sergeant Smith who decided to let the rookie have a go. After studying his movements for a couple of days, we knew exactly when he would be leaving his room to go to hall. We waited until finally he emerged. A signal between the Sergeant and myself indicated for me to move to the left while he moved to the right. In a pincer type movement, I nimbly crept up on him and released the killer shot from my Colt mark IV. Funnily enough, he was on his way to the laundry, not hall. Perhaps he should put his shirt in soak so the blood stains don't set in.

Sgt. Smith files his report:
Myself (Sergeant Smith) and PC Lyons went on stake-out from a high viewpoint of the suspects room. We had seen recognised him earlier, after consultation of our records (i.e. this years freshers photograph) and soon saw him again.
I flanked right, with PC Lyons flanking left. He pursued stealthily and delivered a killer shot that I could only look on at and admire. Excellent. We then retired to our safe haven and ate PC Lyons' minstrels, and there was much rejoicing.

Mary Ivy B Leighton was blown up by a mailbomb:

Patience is a virtue. I am patient. But after having been to Ivy B.'s place six times with no less than 37 different weapons (all of which I intended to use), I changed my plans.

I went back to my place and lovingly prepared an explosive little device. This was carefully placed in her pigeon-hole a few hours later.

Later on, curiosity led me to visit her college. I was welcome by the sweet odour of powder and the sight of her internal organs on the walls and floor of the porter's lodge. The cleaners had just been called.

"So much violence" said I as I left the building, "it's so sad..."


Varys the Eunuch

Monday 30 October

Michael The Black Caped One Bushnell was brought to justice by Inspector Krimson:

When I left hall after lunch I suddenly spotted wanted criminal Michael Bushnell. I kindly informed him that the police would like to have a word with him and that he could consider himself under arrest. Suddenly he freaked out and started screaming and shouting. He violently resisted arrest, and I was forced to shoot him in order to protect the safety of me and the innocent bystanders.

And if some criminal-hugging amnesty losers tell you that I just walked up to him and shot him they're lying.

Phillip Mr. Palmer Stott was gunned down by Deputy Chief Krimson

What a piece of work is man?
How noble in reason!
How inifinite in faculties!

Regardless, man is rather vulnerable to multiple hollow point bullets impacting in the head and heart-lung area. This is a fact that Philip Stott learned the hard way this afternoon. He knew his Shakespeare though.

Michael The Practitioner Gray was found dead in the mailroom, foully poisoned by a letter sent by Varys the Eunuch

It is with a shameful hung head that I must announce my demise. After the recent failed bombing attempt by Dave Hammond I should have really been on guard. Yet when the letter arrived this morning from what looked like the college I dived straight in. Whats this I thought, I've won a prize. Oh, a invitation by poisoned letter to the assassins party from the Delta Squad of the Caius Mafia. Crap! Well its more than I deserve to be honest, having actually made no attempts at a kill yet this term. And Dave, if you want your bomb back, or if indeed anyone would like an armed bomb, its awaiting collection on my desk. Happy hunting!

Sgt. P Zero shot the corpse of Philip Mr Palmer Stott:

My target, Phillip Stott, had been most evasive. I had been told that he had been out of college for the last few days, although I believe this may have been a cunning ploy to throw people of his tail. I had seen him briefly in the bar earlier in the day, but he rushed of in pursuit of a friend. I pondered giving chase, but realising that I was armed with a bacon sandwich and a very small cardboard knife I thought better of it. After a visit to the police armoury to replace my broken gun I felt ready. I returned to Queens' with a purpose.

Upon gaining entry to his shared rooms via his room mate I approached the back room, where he was supposedly working. As I silently opened the door the figure seated at the computer didn't acknowledge my presence. I assumed that this was due to the sneakyness of my entry. How wrong I could be. As I emptyed my gun into his still form I noticed something was wrong. He was already dead. A quick pathological analysis, ie asking the deceased, told me he had been dead for approximately half an hour. If whoever killed him was police, I salute you; but if you are an assassin I give you this message: If you cross into the hallowed grounds of Queens' again, you will never leave. At least not by any conventional means. I may throw your lifeless corpse into the river, and let you drift back to where you came. Kings.

Daniel Twinkle Silverstein had his life ended by The Ferret

Jem Bazley Pearson received 'the Knock' from Chief Krimson

I went to see Jem Pearson. An evolutionary process of clearing the gene pool from people uncatious enough to confirm their identities to just anyone who happens to knock on their door then ensued. And the length of the wanted list decreased by one.

The events of the evening were centred around the abode of Sam Arnold Totteridge Fairley:

So... 30 minutes after I go wanted and I get the entire Police Force down my neck (quite literally - read on) led by the infamous Bjoern Holzhauer. Sitting in my room innocently playing Lemmings (ha ha - the irony) I get a knock on the door, shout "Come In" and someone who I do not recognise enters. He asks "Is Sam here?", to which he gets the mixed response of "Yes" from my room mate and "No, he's gone fencing" from me. Not wanting to hit innocents he wisely leaves at which point I go to get my gun.

The policeman who entered was none other than Commissioner Krimson, out for more criminal blood:
Oh dear.
I had an errand to Queens' and so decided to pay Sam Fairley a visit. In his room I found three people, all of whom claimed not to be Sam. Supposedly he was out at the moment. Yeah right. Well, I did not have any picture of the criminal, and more sophisticated interrogation would not rhyme very well with the new human rights act. I therefore had no option but to leave.
When going down the stairs I saw a highly suspicious character. His hand was reaching for a gun inside his coat. I figured that perhaps the people in the room were telling the truth after all and that this might be Sam. We glared at each other for a while, and then I drew my gun and started questioning him. He vehemently asserted to be unarmed. Then I suddenly heard shots fired beside me. I immediately dived into cover, but in midair I was fatally wounded by a bullet in the head.
The suspicious character then identified himself as Inspector Wiggum, and with my dying breath I briefed him on the door being unlocked and there being three people in the room. He and his companion then went up the stairs, and the last thing I heard before passing out was a fierce gunfight. Justice will be done...

Inspector Wiggum reports:
This very morning I received orders from Dave Hammond to do a morning patrol in order to apprehend wanted criminals. So I set off when I had finished my donuts (around 7:30 pm) and met him outside Queens'.
We hoped to arrest Arnold Totteridge, but when I entered the bottom of his staircase, I spied upon a highly suspicious character, but when I noticed it was not the criminal, I stepped back to let him walk past in the sure knowledge that my valiant colleague could intervene should I be attacked.
Nothing happened though, the person walked past me and towards...suddenly he had a gun out and pointed it at me, but didn't shoot me.
I therefore decided it would be the wisest option to raise my hands over my head and tell him that I was harmless and...ahhhmm...unarmed.
Meanwhile Dave Hammond had brought himself in a perfect sniper position and executed the person mercilessly.
When I then searched the pockets of the corpse I discovered his police badge that identified him as Commissioner Krimson. I really wonder what made him threaten harmless police officers such as myself with loaded weapons. Well, he won't do it again, I guess.

After the bottom of the staircase had been secured I moved up to Arnold Totteridge's room. I slowly pushed against the door and found it open, so I entered the room.
In there I saw two people standing in the middle of the room, both of them not the wanted criminal. Then suddenly I saw a movement in the corner of my eye and dived back behind the cover of the doorway drawing my gun at the same moment, while Sam had started firing from the corner of the room in which he had been hiding.
I returned fire with my automatic, our shots demolished most of the room in best Matrix style, but I was still unharmed due to my good cover while he had been hit in his arm.
He informed me that he had counted my shots, that I should be out of ammo and that I ought to have run out...

Would this be the end of the brave Inspector Wiggum???

No, it was not - my gun does hold more than 6 shots...
So when he closed in to finish me of I simply shot once, twice and thrice. And then another 6 times. You know, you better make sure.

Sam continues:
Then another knock at my door - well, not so much a knock as someone stealthily entering... I hide with gun in hand while an erstwhile colleague says "Hi, Bjoern".

This is bad news. Bjoern knows who I am and is reputed to be somewhat trigger happy. I emerge from hiding firing wildly, but mine is only a six shot and his is twelve. The first hits my left hand, and in pain I continue to fire; but the second hits my neck and I know that I am done for.

I collapse to the floor, the life ebbing from my broken body as there is yet another knock at the door. I strain to see who it is as someone enters my room with Bjoern hiding behind the door. They enter and ask for "Sam" with a snub nosed revolver in full view.

This is all the stimulus that Bjoern needs and he leaps on the intruder with his knife, stabbing him once in the chest. This is all it takes as the intruder slumps against the door saying "But, I'm Police too..." It is not long before Bjoern discovers he was telling the truth, as a cursory search of his body reveals him to be none other than Sgt. P Zero (Paul Hickford).

So my life ends in a bloodbath for the first time ever. Let us see if next term can be more profitable.

Sam Fairley (who has finally had some excitement injected into his otherwise dull and boring life of essay writing only to have that life cruelly removed at the last gasp...)

Back to Inspector Wiggum
: With my job nicely done, I talked a bit with the two bystanders, who had survived my fight with Arnold Totteridge unharmed. We wondered about the price for the reconstruction of the entirely destroyed room, chatted a bit about guns and I was about to unpack my donuts, when suddenly the door started to open...
I slipped behind the opening door and a guy entered the room and asked for Sam Fairley.
At once these evil people pointed at me and said:"That's him behind you"
When seeing the gun in his hand I was obviously quick to point that I wasn't the dead criminal and pointed at the bullet riddled corpse, while slowly reaching for my knife.
As soon as the intruder had turned to look at the corpse, I put my trustworthy knife in his back.
Another glorious victory for law and order!
That was at least what I thought, until I started searching the pockets of the dead attacker. In there I discovered another police badge, identifying him as Sergeant P Zero...
I guess, I'll start collecting those badges. They look quite nice on the wall of my room.

Dave Hammond elaborates:
Well, after a particularly fine meal, I was considering this week's "community policing" incomes, when I notice that Mr. Fairley had lapsed on his protection racket payment. Tut-tut-tut, perhaps he thought that the force would forget about him, what with all the activity elsewhere. DI Wiggum and I decided to dissuade him of that notion.

I had a most profitable journey in the patrol car, chalking up two red cars and two black, which could be onto a 147-break in this patrol-pool frame. By the time we arrived at Queens', I was really in the mood for some serious law enforcement. The presence of another police vehicle blocking the driveway brought a smile to my face - a good policeman always chooses an appropriate space when parking.

Anticipating a nice friendly search for "evidence" in Mr. Fairley's room, and fingering my season-ticket search-warrant, I suddenly noticed that somebody was holding a firearm to DI Wiggum's head. Not just any old somebody, either, but the high-flying Commissioner Krimson. Well, dammit, even if DI Wiggum did once eat a donut in my presence, nobody gets to threaten MY officers with a loaded firearm - that's MY job, and mine alone. So I levelled my shotgun and blew out Commissioner Krimson's brains, before placing a "police aware" sticker on the corpse. Ha! That'll teach him to hog all the press attention and efficiency bonuses!

Anyhow, what with Commissioner Krimson's "performance appraisal" complete, I decided to let DI Wiggum handle Mr. Fairley's interview, as part of my own review of his promotion prospects. He passed handsomely, managing twice the traditional bribe, an excellent judgement of "reasonable force" and even some "due care and consideration" before Fairley "resisted arrest." In the true spirit of our "equal opportunities" promotion policy within the force, he gave both the criminal and a fellow policeman the opportunity to become scorched chunks of flesh, demonstrating well our revolutionary "competitive examination" procedures.

But he'd better stay away from those Donuts...

After my earlier discovery of the corpse of Philip Stott I thought Queens' was safe once again. But then I noticed a new addition to the wanted list. Sam Fairley. So I armed myself and went to investigate. Upon arrival I could hear voices inside, so readied my weapon and entered. I saw before me three people, so unsure of which was my intended target I pointed my gun in their general direction and demanded to know who was who. But then I noticed that there eyes appeared to be looking slightly to my left, to the area behind the door. I span, and saw a fourth figure. As he lunged his dagger into my chest I recognised him. Alas, my cry of "I'm Police" was to late, and Inspector Wiggum's dagger pierced my heart. As I slumped to the wall a cry of "Officer down" was heard, but it was too late. For the second time in the day I had arrived minutes to late. But this time the corpse I found was my own. As for the others, one of the figures was that of Dave Hammond, and the others were Sam Fairley and his room mate. As my vision faded I could not tell who was alive and who was dead, but I'm sure that CoP Hammond can inform the next of kin. The last thing I heard was an ethereal voice uttering the words, "Oh my God, they killed P Zero!"

Tuesday 31 October

Julian Hunt (Crispman) was slaughtered by Psycosix

Julian Hunt is no longer able to join us due to a slight case of death. Someone stuck knives in all his major organs in alphabetical order.

Robert Daisy Hewlett left this suicide note:

I have had to go away on business for the next few weeks so I will have to drop out....Which is an arse because I had such plans!!
Mwwaa ha ha ha.

My backpacking friend who moved into my room has caught Chicken Pox...So good job who ever is using biological weapons.

So its all too much I'm going to jump in front of the next train.
Might die of hypothermia first though!

Abi Carnie Carswell was killed by PC Red

Annette Magaluffa2 Cooper was killed by PC Red

Christian Spocular D'Cruz was killed by The Dark Horse of the Night

After all of Spocular's paranoia - removing his name tags from the door and nameboard and not opening his door before the knocker had provided a password - it was all in vain. While he felt safe in his own college, happily eating his dinner, there was no way to see what was to befall him. Having consumed his meal he was off to go dancing but curiousity of he could eat tomorrow took hold of him. That was the fatal error. While gazing upon the menu he hears the words, "I'm sorry Christian!", then he felt the cold pain of death on his neck. Shot in back at point blank range! The Dark Horse of the Night had struck

The Dark Horse of the Night relates:
There was always this suspicion that I had mistaken someone for my target.Where ever I went, by coincidence he was there as well. My original plan was to assassinate him on Thursday 2/11/00, whereby my accomplise would identify my target for sure. But my temptations could not resist any further, whereby a simple goodbye from a female student identified my target straight away. I was on the role, and my mission was nearing to its successful fortune. The date and time planned. The location :outside the dining room. I wished my target to have a good last meal before his execution and his highway to eternity. I waited with my hands on my guns, eagerly waiting for the kill. The target had a good deal of discussion with his fellow collegues, not knowing what his fate would be next. He left the dining room in a cool, calm manner, unaware of the immediate surroundings. I walked slowly and quietly behind him outside the dining-room entrance, and said, "sorry Christian", and then gunned him down like a flash, one to his forehead, and then one into his arm. His final dramatic words were "AHHHHHH Are there any witnesses?!!!".

PCs Wiggum, Semisane and Dave Hammond went to mash the incompetants in Oak Tree Avenue:

Yet another time valiant Dave Hammond organised a police raid in order to arrest certain criminal elements within our Guild.
PC Semi-sane and I met him outside Jesus and on we went to 24 Oak Tree Avenue. The house was nicely decorated, especially the Scream poster on the door seemed quite appropriate.
So I rang the door bell with PC Semi-sane standing a bit further back and Dave Hammond hiding behind a hedge with 2 heavy machine guns in his hands.
The door starts to open and we shout:"Trick or Treat!"
But for some reason they conclude that we are assassins, maybe it was the long black coats, maybe the sunglasses or maybe the guns in our hands...
The criminals in the house turn out to be dead though, so there we appear to have come there in vain. Then suddenly we hear shouts of:"Katie, quickly get a weapon, there's assassins here!" and a girl with a light sabre in her hand appears and runs towards us.
What choice did I have, but to shoot her?
When checking her pockets I then discovered she had been Inspector Red. Well, my collection of police badges gets bigger and bigger.
Then the girls invited us for some coffee and biscuits and started playing with our guns.
Their neighbour started to wonder, what they could have done to all those small children who came around for sweets if they had had one of our machine guns. Then she proceeded to demonstrate. She went psycho with PC Semisane's gun. In their kitchen. In their living room. Outside.
I had to shoot her to protect the innocent.

Dave Hammond gives his account of this Halloween adventure:
Well, what with it being the Night of the Living Dead, I mustered up a specialist police unit consisting of DI Wiggum and PC Semisame, in order to make some of the living, dead. We piled into the our SPOOKY squad car, with PC Wiggum on driving duty as penance for eating more Donuts, and nipped up to Oaktree Avenue. Sad to say, DI Wiggum was a little out of practice with this driving lark, and accidently mowed down a couple of old ladies who were dispensing sweets to little children.

After we showed him how to work the steering wheel, he did manage to get us to our destination without too much more trouble. Once there, we hit upon the cunning plan of knocking on the door and asking "trick or treat?" Had the criminals given us sweets, we would have had them incarcerated for violating hygiene standards, and had they not, we'd have had them for failure to co-operate with the arresting officers. In the event, we found the front door hanging open, with eerie music emanating from unseen speakers. Proceeding gingerly over the threshold, we decided to split up and search alone.

I crept upstairs, taking care to avoid the creaky floorboards. Lightning flared, briefly illuminating the landing... Oh my God! A high-pitched scream! It must be Wiggum! Having watched many Horror films, I knew it would not be sensible to go and investigate, especially when there were two blood-stained bodies on the landing ahead of me, their various internal organs precisely labelled, alphabetically sorted and strewn around a strangely glowing pentagram. An eldritch figure danced around them, chanting in an undulating voice, weaving in and out of the smoking pentagram.

I stood transfixed, until suddenly a nearby telephone, previously unnoticed, rang. Trembling, I grabbed it... and heard a gravelly voice say "Chief Wowbagger? I've been watching you!" Aaarrrrrrrrrrrrghhhh! Throwing the 'phone down, I spun around to face the stairs, and felt a hairy hand on my shoulder. Hastily I jerked away from the beast and part fled, part fell down the staircase, but looking back over my shoulder, I beheld the eldritch figure chasing me! Frantically, I tried to get back to the door before it reached me, but a strangely animated pile of bones stuck out a tibia and tripped me, and I fell into through a gaping black trapdoor.

Slowly I rose and brushed the dust off myself, taking note of my surroundings. There were PC Wiggum and PC Semisane taking tea and biscuits with a number of zombies, who explained that they had been massacred not one hour before. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" asked they, and I gratefully took it to steady my nerves. Puzzled looks were passed around as I slowly described the scene upstairs; "This is a bungalow," said one eventually. That was all I could take!

Quickly, I pressed my fellow officers into leaving... but on the way out, something ricoched off my foot. A ivory-coloured old bone it was, and as we stooped to examine it, evil laughter rang out around us. The eldritch creature from the pentagram stood behind us. I heard PC's Wiggum and Semisane praying as the went for their guns, but suddenly I noticed something - the horror held a cup in its hand! Darting behind it, I pulled at its face, and just as I had suspected, it came away in my hands - for it was only a mask!

"Curses!" said PC Red, "If it weren't for you pesky police officers, I would have got away with my evil plan to make this house appear haunted, so reducing property values in the surrounding neighbourhood, and then buy everything at vastly reduced prices in order to build the world's biggest and most evil conservatory-extension! I even planned to have a heated swimming pool!"

Hearing this, PC Wiggum shot PC Red - before I could even offer a timeshare scheme in return for not telling anyone about her plans. The fool, it would have been especially lovely in the Winter.

Well, I felt rather annoyed at having lost that splendid opportunity to "work with the community", so much so that I decided to take it out on everyone we drove past on the way to Burrell's field. Seeing somebody with a dog and a white stick crossing the road, I turned the siren off (so as not to disturb his dog) and flashed the headlights as warning of our approach. Unfortunately, he ignored the signals, and walked in front of our rapidly moving car. I braked, whilst PC Semisane put the car into reverse, but alas, we were not quick enough, and succeeded only in running over the body a few more times. Such accidents will often happen when police officers are rushing to defend the public from wanted criminals.

Once at Burrell's field, the squad discovered the notorious Motherduck's door to be open, with no one inside. Being the caring officers of the law that we are, we left a few reminders explaining why it can be unwise to leave doors unlocked when away from home. To be more specific, PC Wiggum left a colony of flesh-eating maggots in Motherduck's shoes (so that he won't forget to lock his door when he puts on his shoes and leaves), PC Semisane placed a bomb under his bed, primed to detonate at 5:05 am (to remind Motherduck to lock his door at all times), and I supplied numerous invitations for Motherduck to make the acquaintance of Captain Colgate and his friend the Macleans Marine (who have a lot to say about open rooms).

I hope our attempt to educate the public as to the dangers posed by criminals has been successful.

Inspector Wiggum finishes:
Next stop was Burrell's Field, where the criminal Motherduck lives.
His room was open, but he wasn't in. Exploiting the rules to their full extent we began to amuse ourselves in his room.
Dave Hammond contact poisoned his drawers, his ruler, his wardrobe, his taps, his vaseline, his razor, his alarm clock, the shoe laces on a few shoes and a chair with Motherduck's toothpaste based poison, which was contact poisoned as well in the end.
PC Semi-sane put a time bomb under the bed that was supposed to explode at 5:05 am.
I filled his shoes with flesh eating maggots.
We also contact poisoned his room keys that he had carelessly cast aside.
I'd really like to know, in which order he got killed by the different items.

Wednesday 1 November

Ross Oofa Brockman was killed by The Mad Monkey Assassin:

Alas and alack, I am no more. Having emerged from the bath, and still clad in a towel, I opened the door without even looking through my peephole. Doh. I was promptly shot, after a brief dicussion, by the Mad Monkey Assassin. However, he neglected to kill a friend who arrived in time for my demise; as such, his nefarious face (and my embarrassingly betowelled death) should be well known to the world... someone kill him. Oh, go on...

Laura Haize Purvis had her life ended by The Absurd Mouse of the Mountains:

Typical! Just taking out some stuff to the kitchen when I was held at gunpoint by a shady looking stranger.
I objected, and pleaded lack of being myself, and tried to retreat into my room to arm myself (I had foolishly been being not paranoid recently as my recent engagement (Yay!) had gone to my head), but could not unsuspiciously pick up any kind of weapon.
After a few minutes of me lying blatantly, I think he decided he'd had enough. So he shot me.
How inconsiderate!
With my dying breath (blood all over the carpet now!) we had a conversation about the Levellers and computer games. Such is life (or lack thereof).

Kit Manic Street Screecher Ballantyne was gunned down by Stealth

Another kill! ha ha ha ha

Kit Ballantyne was sadly maimed and later killed on the eve of 1st November 2000. The poor unsuspecting chap left his door ajar, upon knocking he requested entry. I was cautious, but there was no need he was defenseless, so I shot him in the knee caps, dragged him outside of his room where I delivered the critical shot to the heart. I almost found myself hesitating as he whimpered and flailed in front of me, but took strength from Smirnoff Ice and did the deed. Ah the power of advertising.

take out them as they come out

Kit Ballantyne cries out from the grave:
I can't believe it. The Manic Street Screecher, scourge of the Assassins Guild (sort of), has been killed in the most ignominious fashion imaginable. If only I'd locked my door.....
Having started the day badly by failing to kill my targets in Trinity and John's, I'd resigned myself to an evening indoors looking up por - I mean, doing some investigative internet research for an essay on my computer. With my door propped open. Case details follow:

19:33:23 Knock comes on door. Strange voice says (with badly simulated enthusiasm) "Are you coming to the bar?"
I mumble "Uh?" and hastily close a few windows down on the computer in case it's someone I want to impress.

19:33:29 Two men enter. The smaller is carrying a deadly looking fluorescent yellow water pistol which looks fit to stun the fashion police at twenty paces. I curse the fact that my capgun was confiscated by security guards at the Placebo concert last week.

19:33: Sqqqwwoooosh! In two shots, the Screecher is writhing on the floor in a grotesque breakdance of agony, the deadly water covering his nice retro tee shirt and immaculate coiffeur. As the proverbial black night covers his eyes, he has time to learn that he has been shuffled off this mortal coil by a diamond geezer called "Stealth". Before adminstering a final deadly shot to the chest, the two also exchange email addresses in the hope of "meeting up for a beer sometime". The most sociable way I've ever been murdered. Cheers!

Chris Isola Morton kicked the bucket, with a little help from The Black Death

Chris Morton was minding his own business on Wednesday evening getting ready for a night on the town. But the only thing he was painting red last night was the floor surrounding his limp corpse.

Thursday 2 November

Matt The Mad Monkey Assassin Swarbrick was poisoned by Lord Denning

The Mad Monkey Assassin was blatantly assassinated tonight. Upon returning from watching Jackie Brown at Robinson, Monkey found that his corridor had been turned into a roadworks site by some drunken yobbos who were believed to have terrible mullets in the style of Kevin Keegan in the 70s. Upon opening his door Monkey found a note on his floor and, believing it to be from the mulleted roadworkers, opened it without thinking only to find it was a note from someone called Lord Jenning (who was also believed to have a mullet) The note informed Monkey that he had been poisoned, however, due to a blocked nose, Monkey was unsure whether the poison still lingered. Fortunately, the ghost of the Manic Street Screecher was on hand, along with a couple of handy innocents and Kevin Keegan himself, taking a break from not being the Engand manager, to confirm the poison and slowly dissolve from the inside out, leaving only mullet remains. Monkey now realised that the poison had penetrated his cybernetically enhanced breathing system and caused a fatal coolant leak. As Monkey breathed his last, he took comfort in the fact that the resulting meltdown of his nuclear beer gut would lay waste to most of the East Midlands and cause mullets around the world to blatantly fall out in sympathy. The only safe haven would be the mystical protection shell surrounding the Copper Kettle, believed to be caused by the industrial strength Earl Grey they brew there. Meanwhile, in the distance a ghostly voice from an ethereal, mulleted spirit was heard to wail "YOU ARE BLATANTLY ASSASSINATED!"

Auf Weidersehen Assassins Guild.


Index * Week 1 * Week 2 * Week 3 * Week 4 * Week 5 * Week 6 * Duel