Owain Shave reports:
I went down to Engineering department today, sure of a big surprise. And, surprisingly enough, our target got away. Pesky engineers, designing a building with lots of exits. Anyway, they've got a toasties machine! That's so cool, why doesn't;t my department have one! Anyway, we ran around trying to cover the exits, but to no avail. We spent about an hour there, but it felt like longer as i was very hungry. much to the annoyance of my accomplices. But then i went to tea, so that was alright. Chips, yum,yum, burp.
Simon Ford reports:
Like bees swarming around a honey pot, assassins and police can always be found when there's a criminal about. How could he simply let it happen you had to wonder. Well he had his reasons, and intelligence (yes, there are remnants of that in the Department) indicated that his practical would be this afternoon. So the swarm of four would-be predators gathered over a bridge of troubled water. If I could have brought more along, I would, but Cecilia hadn't been feeling groovy enough to help. So bookends were all I had to work with, and with Garfunkel working at the restaurant, it simply wan't enough to cover all possibilities. Kathy's song was playing as I approached the would be assassination point. I was a rock, but this guy was an island of tranquility amongst the blessed. You've got to keep the customer satisfied, so after listening to the sound of silence I waited for the only living boy in New York to make his move. "So long Frank" Lloyd Wright might have said as he made his exit, but really he was homeward bound, giving the slip on the four of us. Soon I was too after I felt the search hopeless. A most peculiar man had made his escape, but the big bright green pleasure machine would ensure the flowers never bend with the rainfall. Amid scenes of grotesque lyrical asphyxiation we departed, knowing that neither Art or Paul would have approved.
Catchable and Dispatchable reports:
.dne eht .krow nwo ym wollof t'nac i taht hcus gnieb toper eht fo tamrof eht ot eud ytsom si ti ,srehto eht naht retrohs si troper siht yhw gnirednow erew uoy fi .raf siht daer ot derehtob sah enoyna fi rednow i mmh .wolb dnoces eht htiw mih gnillik ,(ekans) efink ym werdhtiw dna snopaew ym rof delbmuf i taht htiw .saw ti deedni dna ,mih saw ti fi deksa i dna gnola emac eh nehw dessap dah setunim wef a ylno .dnuorra saw namlit retep fi ees ot ffo tnew i dna syaw etarapes ruo tnew ew taht retfa .stluser laitinatsbusni htiw suiac ni !mmmoooohhhd fo htiw krul os ro ruoh-flah a htiw ylgnirob ytterp fo detrats ti .sniossim ynem ym fo eno fo troper a si siht
Catchable and Dispatchable reports:
Seeing, with the aid of my beta test 'eyes', that the list of those who were inactive and not aiding in the destruction
of the foul enemy beings, I decided that the force of righteousness needed 'cleansing'. Looking down the choices it was
determined who was the closest using an innovative 'are they in Trinity' algorithm. As per usual the night was fraught
with dangerous creatures, but they were all off getting sillier names this time around, so it was safe even to trespass
into the haunt of the notorious rancid rear-fingerer (although why anyone would want to is quite frankly beyond me).
First up, to get into the spirit of things, was a bit of good old fashioned lurking in Caius with the noteworthy of Dhhhoooommm!, who is noteworthy for his experience in aqueous matters, in particular the exploration of concrete-enclosed ponds in the search of evil denizens.
We lurked for about half an hour with no result, despite the appearance of a false alarm. We decided not to shoot him for attempting to impersonate our target, even though he made no such statement that he was doing so.
"Curses" said of Dhhhoooommm!, "I could have sworn it was him."
"Well I don't know what he looks like" said I.
"If only I was underwater......." said of Dhhhoooommm!.
"Err.....yes..........quite........" I relpyed.
Leaving quickly (for no particular reason) I went to the place next closest: Trinity.
"Mwhahahahahahahaha.............ha!" I whispered, so as not to alert my target.
I spent about 10 Earth-minutes finding the abode and then I scouted out the place a bit, arriving at the door not one minute (it was two) before the target arrived. I used a cunning method to find out his identity: I asked his name. Then I distraced him by telling him he was incompetent, while I fumbled with my weaponry, and unsheathed my knife (snake), which chewed on his arm and then bit his head off. The rest of his body left in confusion.
After telling my snake off for not swallowing him whole, I departed unto my fortress where even now I am concoting more demonic plans to aid the forces of righteousness.
of Dhhhoooommm! reports:
I arrived 15mins early in Christs for a soceity meeting, so wht better to do than wait and kill someone I thought.
So off I went to 2/3 after quickly perusing the corridor I found that of the three rooms down there, one had music playing, one had the door open and ppl eating in it, but Ross's door, that was shut. And the shower was going. Excellent.
I almost gave up after the shower had been on for 15mins, but deciding to be a few mins later for the soc meeting, I hung around, only to find that he emerged at 13:57.
Ross, you're incompetent AGAIN. Bang.
Some people really should pay atention to the web pages if they want to live!
Some F***ing Sweet Sickeningly Fluffy Soft Toy Animal reports:
Look at me, aren't I sweet! I'm drenched in so much saccharine it makes you sick, doesn't it? I'm so soft and fluffy that you'd never imagine me capable of killing, but yes, that's what I did today. I met Maria for coffee in Starbucks and you know she just saw my fluffiness. My intentions were well hidden behind my innocent wide-eyed expression and my goofy grin. When she was about to leave I struck, carefully holding a gun in my paws and firing. The Starbucks customers seemed used to this kind of activity, so I left her corpse 21 grams lighter and fluffily hopped away.
The Minister of Pink reports:
i received a letter bomb last night. unfortunately a friendly civilian thought it looked interesting and pulled it out of my pigeon hole to have a better look. alas, one more casualty....
Bad Samaritan reports:
Oh dear!! Abi Baker has rather hurt my shoulder with a curious contraption that was a folded up bit of paper labelled 'kniphe' (well, knife in greek). I am thus dead, having been stabbed several times in psychotic fashion by this apparition who is not in fact blonde but [insert hair colour of choice].
The Umpire reports:
I forgot to put his death up on the news. Lonecat: have a promotion anyway. The same goes for anyone else who killed an already dead policeman.
Robert E Lee reports:
Here is the story of the first battle of Churchill, long may it be
Early in the day the advance scouts of the Army of Northern Virginia arrived as the dawn mist still cloaked the battlefield. Offensive and defensive positions were noted, and they slunk away to rejoin the main force. General Robert E Lee, none other than the grey fox himself, commanded the AoNV, he knew that on this day he would be facing his arch-nemesis, General Ian Horne, commander of the Army of the Potomac.
Lee arrived at the battlefield and arrayed his forces, whilst Horne and the AoP dithered behind the next rise in the land. Securing the left flank with his artillery, Lee waited. A report came back from Stonewall Jackson, Lee's right hand man. The report indicated that the conditions were perfect for an attack, so Lee launched his first and second divisions over the hill. Lee's audacity almost won him the day quickly, but Horne quickly found a strong defensive position.
The battle raged fiercely for many hours, ebbing and flowing, and the outcome looked uncertain. A final big push in the closing hours, led by the Stonewall Brigade finally broke the Union Army, although at heavy cost to these brave men.
As night drew in, the Confederates held the field, and the tattered remains of the AoP trudged wearily back towards Washington.
Is this the turning point of the War ? Surely we will soon see.
This is the last chapter in the lay of Bruce that is known as Bruce.
As Bruce sat in his room and attended to the cleaning of his armour,
upon the door did he hear a knockle. But too clever for that trick was
Bruce. With a string did he open his door, from great distance, and the
dastardly bomb set there did him no harm.
Immediately there began a furious duel, as the Black Knight (Robert E.
Lee) had secreted himself outside Bruce's demesne. Long and hard did the
two knights duel. RBG against RPG, bands passing pellets in the air, and
many times did both sides pause to reload.
But eventually did the minion of the Evil Powers gain the upper claw.
With his superior weaponry did he beat the proud knight down, until with
a carefully aimed shot was Bruce felled.
As he sank to the floor, the last words of this last of the true knights
will be heard down the ages: "Well done, best man won." And thus passed
away Bruce, last of the order of Mimblewimble, champion of oppressed
pigeons and friend of the common people.
But be not afeared, gentle ones. Whenever the call for justice goes out. Whenever oppressed pigeons cry out for vengeance. Whenever there is need, another Bruce shall rise up, and ride forth in the service of Light. For there is a little of Bruce in us all.
Some F***ing Sweet Sickeningly Fluffy Soft Toy Animal reports:
Sickeningly fluffy I went a bouncing this happy morning. Flip flop, flip flop I'm a lop, flopping along leaving a trail of fluffiness. But I can kill, I've proven that already! My saccharine lusts can't be sated so simply as a single serving though. I must have more! Flippity flop, flop flip. Boing boing *smile*. There's my boy there, Owain Shave, munching on a sandwich. Boing flippy boing. "Don't call me Fluffy" I'm thinking as I draw the knife and stab, stabitty twice, sweet bloody stab. My paws so soft, my smile so sweet, who could possibly believe me capable? Floppity boing flip. What you humans don't realise is that there's a deadly killing machine inside each soft toy and all it needs is a first taste of blood. Flip flop, flop flip, Sheila's dog has nothing on me. Remember that tonight when you're going to bed with your teddy bear *smile*.
A My Little Pony – reports:
I, a poor wanted criminal whose only crime was appreciating the gift of
life in myself and others, was cleanly eliminated this afternoon by an
officer of the law. It didn't even hurt, much.
I was walking home, my mind on the poor children and lost puppies that
I was going to help that night. I reached my door, unlocked and opened it
when I heard a voice behind me. Thinking I could provide some assistance I
turned round and saw a smiling face. The owner of that smile raised his
gun and shot me beneath my armpit. The bullet travelled throgh my body
piercing both of my lungs and my heart. In shock I toppled into the road
and the lower half of my body was run over by a passing truck.
So much for my organ donor card.
The focus group report slammed down on my desk as yet another cup of coffee
"What do you mean, we're losing popular support amongst the electorate?" I bellowed at the naive looking civil servant before me. He quivered, as if he was about to faint, then he suggested that the public wanted instant results, and when these were not forthcoming, they would highlight any internal disputes. I almost fired him there and then, but he showed some promise, and I decided it was time to take swift and decisive action. Thus the next mug to appear on my desk contained well-brewed tea, white, no sugar thanks.
It was indeed time for results. I called my cabinet together, and they proposed that a public display of strength would re-establish my authority, and dispel any doubters. There was suddenly a loud explosion, as the window shattered, and after everyone dived under the table, incidentally bomb-proof, we realised that there had been no explosion, but that a projectile had been fired into our office. On closer inspection, although damaged by the impact, it appeared to be a particularly inspiring textbook on Economics, express delivery from Sheffield. I decided that it would be best used by John Prescott, but he seemed to think it was patterned toilet paper. Never mind.
Anyway, it was time to remove an underperforming quango, after a period of lacklustre performances. So I was about to set off to deal with it personally, when I was interrupted by my Defence secretary:
"Oh Minister, could you make a firm decision on whether to attack Iraq for me? It's time we took swift and decisive action."
Indeed it was, but I had other matters on my mind.
"Just tell George to hold on until I get back." I then saw that John Prescott was beginning to eat the textbook. "And while you're at it, let George have the book as well, he might make better use of it."
And so having firmly stamped my authority on my key players, I left with a pompous gait, and proceeded to face the people. Having arrived at my chosen location, I decided that I deserved sustenance for my hard labours so far today. With no advisors or undersecretaries around, I entered a local retailer, and asked for a KitKat (chunky of course.) I was asked how many I required, and replied:
"A Single Serving will be enough, my Friend."
I walked outside, consuming my provisions, and endeavoured to cross the road to examine the passageway by the target's office. However, due to the traffic congestion (can't someone sort it out?) I had to retreat to the traffic lights slightly along the carriageway. As I was waiting for the red light, I espied someone walking towards the target's office who resembled the target. Could it be? I ran across the road, just missing a crazed cyclist, one of the unfortunate few who still seem to believe that the roads were designed for them. I followed the shady figure towards the abode, and he fumbled for keys. Yet the council have not budgeted highly enough for street lights, it is so dark! Anyway, he arrives at the house, opens the door, and he turns sideways to enter. I am now confident enough in the accuracy of my claims, so I call him and gently break the news to him of his redundancy. He is impressed with the way I have handled the dispute, and invites me in to discuss rubber bands, escape routes to practicals, and chalk dust. After agreeing a settlement, I head back to my offices, hoping for some positive press in the morning papers.
At last some success for my weary legs, who have travelled far but with little success. I feel a fresh wind on my face, and I see the leaves blowing down the road; indeed I feel that an open season is coming. I smile gently at the people passing by oblivious to what is truly happening, and stride off purposefully into the distance.
I had to thunderbolt; she had been on the inco list for a week while doing nothing.
The Minister of Interior Decorating reports:
I have to report that I have indeed been a very naughty boy today. I went out with Carl the Kung Fu Hamster to find the Spam King and former ECSU President Alex Swallow. Unfortunately he was out. But, there were other possible mince victims. Misses Charlotte Mitchell and Helena Dahlhoff, both Emmanuel Boat Club coxes, were minced in hall at 14:02. The Minister of Interior Decoration was responsible, by final guise. I wanted to do a better job than the Changing Rooms team could have done, but I then find that my actions deem me wanted. Ooops. I might as well also admit that my real name is MacArthur Demetia, Fifth Earl of Markov and Heir to the Throne of the Galactic Empire. Or I might be mistaken. I did see the new ECSU President as I was coming back from hall, but he hasn't caused me any annoyance yet, so I let him live. I guess my door is always open to the police....
The following people made it to the end of the game alive:
Jenny Chase (Sinister Dexter AKA The Minister of Trouble AKA THe Scandinavian Defence AKA eeee-emm-enn-twenty-threee)
James Osborn (Zionist Rebel AKA Vassily Zaitsev AKA Milady AKA Robert E Lee)
Simon Ford (Guy le Strange AKA The Single Serving Friend AKA Some F***ing Sweet Sickeningly Fluffy Soft Toy Animal)
Tim Underwood (The Milky Bar Goat)
Ruaridh Buchanan (The Amateur Professional AKA Mr Marmaduke)
Scott Boham (A Large-scale Digitigrade Morula)
Congratulations to them all.
The duel will take place on Tuesday 3rd December at 1pm in Harvey Court garden.Index | Wanted List | Incompetents | Police | Headlines | Updates
Produced at Mon Dec 2 13:03:03 2002