The Assassins' Guild - Week 1 News

Anno MMDCCCLIV AUC
Bellum incipebat.
Astranauarchus: quid obvenit?
Munitor: Aliquis nobis distendum erexit.
Utindus: nuntius nobis
Astranauarchus: Quid!!
Utindus: Potissimum Exhibitum Excitandum est mihi
Astranauarchus: Tute!!
FELES: Patricii quomodo valetis!!
FELES: Castrum omnia nobis insunt.
FELES: Deleamini
Astranauarchus: Quid!!
FELES: Non vobis fortuna superfuendi tempus facite est.
FELES: HA HA HA HA...
Astranauarchus: omnia 'zigga' emitteantur!!
Astranauarchus: vos voster facenda gnari sunt!!
Astranauarchus: 'zigga' decurrantur
Astranauarchus: pro magna iustitia.

Fiat uno!

"While the wicked stand confounded, Call me with thy saints surrounded".

My father and brother did accompany my jaunt to the land of 5:oo am. We were awaiting those who had crossed over into true corruption, into our domain. We were to Kill Them All. i was strangely comfortable with it. they were not and did not show. (lazy prods). then we got a call. It was the fuckin russian's pager. the location was clear. one of our own was to fall. we used the rope like Charlie Bronson. This did not help. my sources indicate that I was unknown to our target. Unfortunately i was a little worse for alcohol and a little better after early mass. i also did not have wheels. he escaped six men with guns drawn (or one man with six guns, and "your telling me this guy was a senior friggin citizen?" at that).

Beware one day you shall look behind you and you will see we three, and on that day...

Murphy of The Saints

For what you are about to receive may the lord God make you truly grateful. As the bishop said to the actress.

Me and some associates went out early Sunday morning and at 6:45AM I planted a bomb to the door of William Wordsworth Pushing up the Daffodils' room. Although cruel to blow some one up the first day of the games, you need to be compassionless to be an assassin, so I threw stones at a cat, but it was too quick! but I think I've made my point??

I awoke this morning to find a fake bomb outside my door - but alas, it has already exploded itself. There was string tied to my door handle but not tied to anything else, and a plastic bag in the middle of the corridor. They just dont make bombs like they used to!

Stupid bomb.

I do hope you didn't stone our friend Gus, the masters cat. If so, we shall be forced to wreak terrible retribution...

I'll go ask him now - one meow for yes, two for no...

Just a quick report. Jack Gillet was emiminated at ~10:30am Sun 30th Jan.

Let the game continue!

Rowan Fields

Ah! The early morning in Cambridge! What a glorious sight to behold! I wish I could have enjoyed it more on my stroll today, but my mind was preoccupied somewhat with a mission I had set myself, in an attempt to boost my own sense of samaritanivityationness. A fellow colleague, who had been clearly suffering low self esteem of late, required some rather urgent attention. Naturally I decided that successfully disarming a bomb would be a fantastic way to give him that get-up-and-go spirit (rather than get-up-and-go-boom! ha! you see? with positive mental thinking (PMT) like me you too can make hilarious jokes!). I just hope he manages it, but at least if he doesn't I've called dibs on his stapler. It's red.

Happily, I spent the night away from my room. However, my friends from Durham were staying there instead. This morning, on leaving, Richard and Julia were sadly blown to pieces and scattered across the corridor. I returned half an hour later, to find a bit of a mess.

2 girls knocked on my door. I think they were assassins. 2 other people in my college also got 2 girls matching the description knocking at the door. No one let them in. It is very suspicious, and worrying.

At 1330 left a poisoned letter for Milk-Free

At about 2 pm today I arrived back in college to find a suspicious letter in my pidgeonhole. A few investigative pokes with my knife allowed me to extract the item and I gave it a cautious sniff. Instantly my nostrils filled with the noxious aroma of marmite, making me retch. Back in the safety of my room I pulled on some rubber gloves to allow a more comprehensive study, but alas no clues as to its origin were found.

I safely disposed of the offending article before it could cause further harm.

Whilst returning from the hopeful enlightment of my (hopefully not for long) troubled collegue and, of *course*, friend, I thought I'd pay another associate a visit. He too had seemed a tad not too happy of late (I think it might have been to do with a chicken pesto sandwich he'd left in the office communal fridge...I mean...it's communal, it's there to encourage a communal spirit, giving, taking... there's no need to start threatening my cat at any rate...), so I thought I'd leave him a present too. Hopefully a lesson in bomb disposal will bring him as much joy as I had laying down the course notes, so to speak. On the other hand, he *does* have the most swivelly chair in the office...

Blue Sky Thinking

I awoke this morning to find a defused bomb and a note from my college father reading "Saved your life, gayboy". He and I both hope that he will not be inconvenienced further. Thankyou. Amos. x

Dear Mr Birch,

I returned home to find that someone had kindly left a bottle of milk outside my room. Being fairly bleary-eyed from last night's debauchery, I sighed and stood at a distance from the milk bomb (for future reference, I like orange juice better or if you want me to love you long time, any kind of alcoholic beverage would be welcome). I then spent about 5 minutes throwing my bag at it and it wouldn't fall over. On closer inspection, it was an "innocent" bottle of milk from my lovely neighbours, Carradamie. How cruel of them to torment me like this. Completely unprovoked ;)

Lauren Grest

Hello!

I'm writing to tell you that I've made two attempts on the life of Clio, namely, "Special Letter" in his pigeon hole and I knocked on his door but he wasn't in.

10:20 Some girl tried to kill Clio

While calmly resting in sugar land behind a locked door, I heard the following conversation - "Is Clio in?" "I don't know. Probably not. Shall I tell him you called?" "No, I'll just run away now."

15:00 Some girl's poisoned letter failed to impress Clio

Oh, a girl I thought! I wonder if she loves me too *bounce* *bounce* Donning gloves in case she was a bitter lover, I became aware of her wonderful scent - divine. But then I realised it was talcum powder and this was not a love letter but attempted murder. My heart is broken. But I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.

#chat
"In which direction?"
j
"Your friend talks about their morning."
"SavvyMarmot fires! The rubber-band misses!"
g
h
o
"In which direction?"
h
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"In which direction?"
l

Feeling in the mood I went to Mushroom's room at 7:10AM and planted a bomb there. It's just upsetting thinking about it, the poor girl. I thought of a joke though. Knock Knock, who's there? BOOM!!! It's in poor taste I know, but I think it sums up the situation well, except for the knocking, and if someone hasn't diffused it and stolen it, that would be annoying.

This morning an attempt on my life was made. Fortunatly a neighbor came past and dismantled the bomb before I left my room. Someone will pay for this... Mushroom

Deebo reporting in. Kirsty Reger will hopefully die the next time she trys to cook something, well she better! It's a hell of a trek to that damn Wolfson place, her pans inside her own personal cupboard have "vasilinogen" a well known toxin on the undersides of their handles. I worked in this effort with an associate, Mr Milk-Free

Saucepan? Oh, my Jenny Green-Teeth defense mechanism - I certainly never use it for cooking.

Deebo reporting:

This afternoon Milk-Free and I made the long trek to the place they call Wolfson Court. Kirsty Reger now has a bomb sitting outside her room, I don't think she was in, as we made enough noise to alert the entire corridor!

Arriving back at my room I found a bomb outside my door. Obviously inferior handiwork - despite my care there was an obvious lack of secondary detonators or contact poison. Defused.

Regarding the recent attempt on the life of Chardsville mafioso Kirsty Reger:

Milk-Free and Deebo, this is unacceptable, I demand the death of Kirsty Reger! I'm going to put a contract on your head! Muahahaha. Next time, do not fail!

Don Chard.

A friend of mine noticed a suspicious character wandering the roads of cripps court, looking lost and on a mission. He took immediate action in assembling a crack team to investigate, and we began an operation to check the rooms of each known assassin to see if this character was headed in their directions. Having completed the search and found nothing suspicous my good friend returned to his corridor, where he was at once ambushed from the kitchen. The assassin, looking quite pleased with himself, left the building with gun in hand... unfortunately for him I happened to cross his path whilst he was bearing arms. He met his unfortunate end at the hands of several of my finest rubber bands.

Well what can I say. I was bored. And as such decided a quick trip across town to Tit Hall wouldn't be amiss. Arriving there, and finding a load of staircases, but that of my targets, I was initially confused, and after walking around the courtyard thinking "B, C, D, E.. ???" But where's A!!! Anyway, B looking just as interesting, I walk though it to find A on the otherside. Walk up and find myself in the bar.... Hmmm.... Luckly for this atempt it wasn't open yet, so I choose the other door and head up. Finding my targets door ajar and hearing load music, I jump in, brandishing my trusty pistol and shooting the poor girl with 4 bullets. She breathes out "Well that wasn't very nice was it..." before slowly slumping across her work, her blood already staining the neat words upon the page... Anyway, Hello, and DIE!!!!

I paid a visit to Maria Sedelnikova of Newnham today... alas, no answer came upon tap tap tapping her door, so I had to settle for leaving a poisoned letter in her pidgeonhole. Time will tell whether the dark chemicals will stop her cold, black heart.

I arrived in Girton College at 5:30 pm with the intention of raiding the room of a certain James Appleton. Arriving at the premises I saw that he had one of those funny double-door things. I cautiously openned the outer door and saw a pair of his trainers lying in the small space between this and the inner door, and suddenly my plan changed.

Fashioning a shallow bowl out of a bottle, I filled it to the brim with poisoned water and inserted it into his shoe along with a note declairing it to be an attempt upon his life. If he puts his foot in the water, or picks up the show and splashes himself, he will be dead within seconds.

Today was suspuiciously sunny for cambridge. Alas, I suspected this may be my first and last days work as an assassin. I discovered, in my email box, a mail from a charming individual who claimed to be interested in the same remote line of academic work as myself. However, I was suspicious of the terminology he used, and discovered, through spy networks, that his subject was in fact one quite different to my own! Deciding the time was ripe to eliminate one of my stalkers, I replied to the invader in friendly terms, offeing him a glass of my very best port. I lurked in the shadows outside college, waiting for him to emerge. Eventually a suspicious looking being, clad in black, appeared on bicycle, and proceeded to pace up and down. A brave and loyal accomplice of mine was able to distract him with friendly chit-chat while I administered the death shot from behind. He howled as he died, in frustration and agony. However, I had no mercy for him and allowed him to bleed to death, and the cambridge vultures to feast upon his corpse.

At 1800 this evening the dashingly pair of Generalissimo FN Spingu and Raphael left their lodgings and headed westward towards a squat angular building that houses at least two known assasins. A disappointing climb to Melpomene's room only to elicit no response led to increased tensions for the next attack. Quivering with barely suppressed eagerness the black clad shapes slid through the shadows across the top of the fortress and onto their next prey. A reveberating knock on the door led to footsteps, and a fresh faced young man peered around the frame in a suspicious manner. With a sibilant whisper Raphael demanded, "Are you the one?", yet the young man boldly announced with a grin that he was not the one we sought, making a quick move towards his pocket. The lighting reflexes of Raphael would have been impressive had he not actually rubbered down the wrong man, instead of Thalia as intended.

Fleeing from the carnage, Raphael joined the Generalissimo who was waiting at the foot of the stairs, and they made their way back to the original targets room. Knowing the way, the climb was significantly faster, and the pair took up positions hidden amongst the random chairs and kitchens they found there. This time, the knock brought forth a response from a paranoid Melpomene who refused to open the door until he was fully certain that the Generalissimo was who he said he was (that is, not in fact the Generalissimo). After a lengthy conversation the door opened mysteriously with no-one in sight, so Spingu forced the door back as far as it would go. This was not particularly far, as it later appeared that Melpomene was hiding behind said door, and still opened it despite the presence of a spyhole which should have showed him that the visitor was not who he claimed to be but a RBG wielding maniac dressed in a black trenchcoat (so obviously an assassin or a disturbed member of the public who thought he was Neo). There ensued a furious firefight around the door, as Spingu could not get further into the room due to streams of water emanating from Melpomene's pistol, and Melpomene couldn't escape due to the guy pinning him into the corner with the door. After Melpomene recieved a flesh wound to the arm, the door which played such a significant part in this saga slammed shut (note alliteration), and the repulsed pair set of on the trek East to Gardi's to drown their sorrows in chilli sauce and fat.

Just shot in the arm by rbg weilding assassin. Fired some water at him but unsure of direct body/head hit.

When I got back I found that my room had been attacked a second time by 2 different assassins and they had shot my room mate in the face. IN THE FACE!!! This has deeply upset me. Blood is a real stainer.

In his dying breaths he told me it was 2 men that did this if it helps find them. Now my room has one door that leads to a small corridor that has 2 other locked doors for our rooms. Sam clearly said no when asked if he was me and he said no. Then they shot him. I would very much like whoever killed my roommate (who is an innocent) to be put on the wanted list, so I may personally blow their room up.

"whilst the wicked stand confounded, call me with thy saints surrounded".

In the evening another attempt was planned, however, instead of dealing justice in a most extreme and just manner, we blew up a car. i blame the strongbow. guinness is the drink of proffesionals. We did not take care of the one target we did see as he was "a good man" and "he isn't to be touched".

murphy's luck seems to be with us all.

Dearest Umpire,

Today I didn't do anything.

Yours,
Chris Field

I have just spent half an hour 'defusing' 2L of toxic apple juice. Having worked out how to remove the parcel from my p'hole from a safe distance (no mean feat since it filled the entire hole, and was stuck in quite tightly) I was met by a growing pool of liquid. I wore gloves to clear it up, and avoided contaminating the porter who helpfully provided paper towels. Honestly.

On my way back from a night of revelry, I chanced to spy Adam Biltcliffe. Taking up a safe position, he proceeded to ask me in the politest possible terms what I was doing in the Cavendish. I replied, entirely truthfully, that I had been helping to make sure the sun had come up that morning, and was now on my way home. For some strange reason, he seemed a little suspicious of my explanation...

Veni. Vidi. Vici. Quinque diffusilibus anellis immissibus.

(with apologies to Arlo Guthrie): Novi Yorki, aedificium via Albatrium nomine, quod contacturus deserturus iniacturus inspecturus deprensurus selecturusque ambulet est. Olim causa physicam probationem obtinendi ingredi sedique, multo bibito nocte priore ut mane optimus comparerem contractaremque. Puer panamericanus abusque urbi Novi Yorki comparare volui. Volui, volui contractatre pan- Yorki Novi abusque panamericanus ita sedi ingredique. Propendi sum detuli sum suspensi sum et mihi omnigena insuaves turpesque facti sunt. mihi me Ingresso sessoque papyrum dederunt et dicebant, "in argutiomedici conclavem, numero DCIV i"

Et ego, scansus, dicebam, "argutiomedice, interficere volo. Volo volo interficere. Interfecturus Esse. Volo volo videre sanguinem cruoremque iliaque et in dentibus venas videre volo. Corporibus crematis cenare. Conficere letare necare perimere." Et circumsilire ululareque coepi "occidere occidere" et ipse circumsilire ululareque coepit "exanime caedeque" et conquisitor appropinquabat et mihi insignem affixebat et me dimittebat et dicebat "Ecce homo!"

Et factum est proelium in caelo Michahel et angeli eius proeliabantur cum dracone et draco pugnabat et angeli eius

My dear Umpire,

I feel compelled to inform you that I met Mr. Simeon Bird today. He isn't nearly as handsome as you.

Yours,
Chris Field

"Oh lord, raise me to thy right hand, and count me among thy saints"

Yesterday, I Wet my sword (rain only) and set out to repay those who hate me. they were cowardly fuckers. 5:00

at midday i attempted, via subterfuge, to execute a target. bastard ran away.

last night my son blew up a car. he asked me how far he was to go with this. i responded "the question is not how far, the question is, do you possess the constitution, the depth of faith, to take it as far as is needed"?

i may have been smoking something.

Il Douche.

And so once again we three did set out to rid Cambridge of some filth. After yesterday's embarrassing motor incident, we set off on bikes. Fully armed, my father and brother went in search of our targets. We lay in wait for target number 1, then asked a neighbour for information on his whereabouts. He had "gone bowling". Leaving a bomb when he's out is just pointless. Target number 2's residence was guarded by a fearsome-looking bunch of porters. I managed to gain entry to the house of my third, but could not find him once inside. We could also not gain entry to Harvey Court when we went in search of Raphael.

"We three shall spread our blackened wings and be the vengeful striking hammer of God."

Conner of The Saints

It was Foxy's birthday last week and I bought him a little present. When I say bought, I mean I found an amusing plastic bag in the toilets of Caffe Nero. The bag had the word "Foxhole" emblazoned across it in fetching bold type. Thinking Mr Fox would enjoy being the proud owner of such a bag, I neatly folded it up and put it in the UMS.

Foxy, darling, I hope you liked my little gift and you didn't spend too many hours disarming it. I know you are the nervous type but as a consolation for the fearI have no doubt caused, I hear the bag is big enough to carry all kinds of corporate tat from "Undisclosed Locations" to the foxhole ;)

Adieu!
Lauren Grest

Having found a decidedly suspicious looking envelope in my mailbox, and suspecting a letter filled with a deadly poison, I prepared to open it taking the customary precautions, including covering the floor with Varsity (about all it is good for), and using impermeable carrier bags from everyone's favourite supermarket as impromptu gloves.

Inside I found not a letter covered in [insert name of substance], nor a miniature bomb, but a completely harmless plastic carrier bag. With "FOXHOLE" written on it.

Very funny.

PS: Please note that I prefer carrier bags filled with sweets or biscuits or, if you want me to love you long time, used Bank of England banknotes with non-sequential serial numbers. Also by my decree, the official name of my residence is "foxypad".

Monday 31/02/05 8.26am: I started the day with a beautifully crafted poisoned letter, delivered to Alex Wilkes at Clare College. Can murder really be this easy?

Yes.

Bien, je suis arrivé de retour à l'université que cet après-midi pour découvrir que j'avais recieved une lettre spéciale. Etre d'esprit astucieux j'ai emprunté un gant de caoutchouc d'un ami et ai ouvert la lettre dehors. Le Bicarbonate de soude est allé partout dans le plancher, pas, unfortuantly pour mon assassin, n'importe où près de moi. Vous devrez être de mieux attraper Madamoiselle Noire ! Aussi, ne pas signer vos lettres ! La lettre a été aussi marquée dans les grandes lettres « l'agent de Nerf » et avait seulement le refus dans les très petites caractères sur le fond. Une infraction des règles ! Au revoir !

And forr all yoou ignorante Eenglish peoples, un petit summarie: "I recieved une lettre, but, I did not die. Le assassin, beeing an Eenglish pig, put 'is name on the bottom."

Madamoiselle Noire

at 19.30 today I did follow one JJ Wilks for some distance through town in close proximity. The dastardly mutt spotted me after a while, so I didn't get to laugh at him as much as I could have

01:00 - I decided to do a bit of reconnaisance today so snooped around the enemy's quarters and surroundings. In one building, someone dived for cover, but it was unlikely to be my target, and i was ill-prepared to attack someone in their home-base, so keeping in the spirit of reconaissance missions, returned home to gather all the top secret sensitive information I had put together. Be very scared.

After having done my reconaissance mission earlier this afternoon, I decided it was time to go in for the kill. Having heard formal was on at Claires, I patiently waited with a friend until Chris Greensides came into view. My skilled reconnaisance from earlier that day meant I knew exactly who I was on the watchout for, and it was only a matter of whether he would walk past the porter's lodge. After a long wait, i distinguished a shadow that slowly turned into my target. As he walked next to me, the glint from my gun caught his eye and he began to run. Unfortunately, he suffered several shots in the back and spectators gathered around his corpse. He muttered a few words of thanks and of finding freedom and he then rushed off to some higher place.

The peasant protested, but we really had run out of potatoes, and his was the only farm nearby. In the end the commissar prevailed upon him, and he hid inside while we availed ourselves of his root vegetables.

I would like to report a failed attempt upon my life.

I was sitting at my computer working when my window was pulled open and an evil assailant shot me repeatedly with a small water pistol. He then ran off into the night.

However brilliant this attempt was, the man should have remembered that my room is a 'no water' zone. The deadly contents of his weapon were rendered harmless by a mysterious force field, leaving me unhurt. I grabbed my gun and ran off after him, but I was too late and he got away. Coming back to assess the damage, I can report that fortunately my computer is unscathed despite being in the line of fire, although my lecture notes are a little soggy. He also completely failed to miss my potted plant, which is a pity as it was also in the line of fire and would have at least meant his little visit had achieve something.

After a 2 hour reconnaissance mission I finally discovered the myth of the impenetrability of wolfson court was ill founded. An open door to the same court yard as my poor victim led to an open window. True it opened in the wrong direction so a quick trip round the courtyard and looking into peoples room (okay I alerted Dave's neighbour), slid open the window and blasted out a few mls of water into the heart of the ex Dave Hall. A quick exchange of, 'so it's Dave?', 'yup, well done' and I was out of that place as quickly as an unfit natsci who managed to do his knee in during a lecture can go. Where are your webcams now, Wolfy?

"While the wicked stand confounded, Call me with thy saints surrounded".

No kills again. all scared of murphy. maybe because i have a blackbelt in fujitsu. i'll smack you with a washing machine if you let me. I will find and i will kill. anyone for a game of pelutheo? its a south american ball game. The balls are whacked against a brick wall with a stout wooden bat untill the prisoner confesses.

Untill next time

Murphy of the Macmanus brothers

Tonight, three men (Generalissimo F N Spingu, March Hare, Alan Bitchmarsh and the Yorkshire Rap Collective)and made their way with multiple evil intent to the nether regions of cambridge. After several abortive stakeouts, they moved on to the abodes of March Hare's and Alan Bitchmarsh and the Yorkshire Rap Collective's targets. We knocked on our side by side targets doors. This got no response from Alan Bitchmarsh and the Yorkshire Rap Collective's target, but a timid query from Black Cat. The game was in my ball park. We initiated a kitchen stakeout after it was evident that Black Cat would not be coming out. after a few minutes the third door along (not a target) opened and a man came out saying on his mobile "...outside your room you say?" He spotted me and fled to his room. After a short while, we were getting tense, and when a young man nonchalantly wandered down the corridor in front of us whistling listlessly. We ajourned to the quad, and watched as the man wandered in and out of the college for a while. The out of the corridor came two men looking incredibly shifty (one hand in pocket), and they walked out of the college, checking on all sides constantly. Spingu tailed them, and watched them go into the pub, and we all watched as they walked back again on the other side of the street, the shorter guy glancing at us the entire time. They entered their other side of the college... and the shorter guy watched us through a almost closed door for a while. So we moved out of sight. After 10 mins, the shorter guy walked back out, and towards the main college - hand firmly entrenched in his pocket. suspecting this was my target, i followed, and called his name. The alertest man I had seen that evening suddenly turned into a deaf man with no need to look to either side...and sped up. So i chased, calling his name again, and once more for luck. He should have given some sign that he heard something - after all, i was but two metres away. Then a guy (of the mobile phone) came out of the doorway, and spotted the three men closing in on his friend. Quickly pulling an about turn and joining the other man they sped up even more towards the target corridor. Taking this as all the confirmation I needed, i pumped 3 RBs into his back from a metre away, and claimed "Tom or not, you are dead". The man with mortal wounds sped up a final time, and my last sight was of them dissapearing round the door.

Heard a comotion in the coridor and steped out to see a devious looking fellow lurking in the kitchen. Promptly shut the door and began cowering within. Later saw them by the porters lodge turned around and escaped unharmed.

Things got a little hairy in college earlier; I didn't care though. The eternal beats in my head drown everything else out... I was and always am Rocking the Kaz Bar.

"The Chatty Hunter plots in the night, woe betide those who are scared of a fright!"

On returning to my room this morning I discovered a suspicious note attached to my door. There appeared to be no contact poison so I held the note up to the light to read the message before opening. An exploding letter from J-Stream. The offending note was then disposed of by controlled explosion.

This morning I was cycling along when I espied a certain James Appleton ride past me. Clearly someone up there liked me. I sped up and gave chase, drawing my band gun and taking aim at his back. The first shot hit him square between the shoulder blades, on his rucsac, but he didn't notice this mortal wound. Deciding to clarify matters more thouroughly I drew level and took aim at his side.

"Sorry about this." I said, before firing another two shots into his side. He fell from his bike in a spray of blood, a look of surprise on his face. After stopping briefly to positively identify the body, I continued on my way.

I went back to Mushroom's place again for another try. Unfortunately couldn't find anyone.

"I don't like horses."

"No, neither do I."

"They smell."

"And pollute the streets of London with their... excrement."

"Excrement?"

"Yes."

"KILL THEM ALL!!!!"

"Roger."

If the Umpire who is very, very, very, hairy yet strangely and inexplicably and surprisingly and hence generally attractive should happen to send you a short but interesting yet excitingly formatted e-mail with a list of young and largely large but still mature and adult targets but you are feeling very, very lazy because you have just finished surprisingly yet sneakily and altogether unexpectedly ambushing cows in the market in the centre of the city in the Earth with giant yet astoundingly bouncy and unusually sincere kangaroos then you should attempt to attempt to kill or murder or maim or injure or terminate or somehow cause them to die or expire or self-destruct by sending them a yet unopened letter of the alphabet with a small but significant yet fairly discreet yet fairly dangerous while cheesy poison.

Someone tried to kill me again. A very official looking envelope in the pigeon hole, which didn't make the pigeon very happy. Unfortunately, I've taken to opening my mail with a handy parsnip, so no harm done.

Ah bien ! Madamoiselle Noire frappe ! Et frappe bien ! A l'aide de quelque chili spécial a infusé des petits gâteaux que j'ai tué Sally McGrath après ses conférences de matin. Je l'ai offert simplement un et elle l'a pris. Je me suis sauvé au cas où les autres assassins étaient présents, et a manqué malheureusement son courir autour de crier dans l'agonie. Apparantly qu'il amusait tout à fait. Beaucoup grâce à Expea dont le l'idée c'était pour faire les Petits Gâteaux de Chili en premier lieu quand il a mangé un chili et quelque pâte de petit gâteau en même temps hier après-midi. Il a joué une partie de invaluble dans l'assassinat d'un de ses amis. Encore, je vous remercie. Prendre garde tout !

"I kiilled Sally McGrath avec un Chilli Cookie, she died a veery pain-ful deeath" Ignorant Eenglish peoples!

The Small Cardboard Box sends his regards to their rebelious left hand, and hopes he liked the sparkly! note that was deposited in his pigeonhole.

However, The Small Cardboard Box wishes to take their rebelious left hand to task over the distressing degree of non-boxiness of his bedroom. In particular, said room was improperly sealed.

The Small Cardboard Box apologises for the sparklies! that found their way into their rebelious left hand's bed, and recommends knocking them onto the floor then hoovering when attempting to clear them up.

The Small Cardboard Box bids their rebelious left hand good day and suggests he be more paranoid about the closedness or otherwise of his windows next time he leaves the room.

Small Cardbord box's antics with the gold body glitter and my bed can only suggest a weird disposition for cross dressing. I was required to don my hazchem suit (rubber gloves and apron) to get it all off to the wash (cardbord box owes me £1.20 for the washing machine). FUrther to this, a poison letter was left in my pigeon hole containging the same gold glitter (this guy has issues). He did however kill my girl, so he can expect harsh retribution.

Just to keep up the tradition, I saw Simeon Bird today, and he neither saw me nor looked paranoid.

Bien, j'ai pensé il y avait une bombe de lettre dans mon trou de pigeon. Il s'est avéré être une lettre contenant quelques gants de caoutchouc, un cadeau de mon ami de médecin. Les portiers ont été amusés pour me voir très que le lance dehors avec une choses de cintre et lancement à lui. Puits. C'était inoffensif, et maintenant je suis équipé en haut un peu. Adeiu

Dear dear Umpire,

I find myself unable to resist writing to you once again. I'd like to inform you that today I have done a very small amount towards maybe possibly further action in perhaps the next day, or two. At this stage I wouldn't want to commit to anything. I hope that you had a lovely day, as you so deserve!

Yours,
Chris Field

Dear Umpire,

I am concerned that it is day 3 and, as yet, there has been no attempt to kill me.

Yours sincerely,

Edward Mitchell.

YSI a BPL.
Let's see if my targets are paying attention, shall we? One Badly Poisoned Letter each should suffice, for now.

Received poison letter today. Lots of flour used - the envelope felt grainy to the touch. So I opened it with gloves on and poured it all down the sink. There was also a note but it didn't have anyones name on it.

Today I arrived back at my room to find a bomb on my door. The bomb was a milk carton full of air, so precisely where the explosive was is debatable. Nevertheless it was remote detonated, but did not go off as it had already been diffused by a passer by.

However, some git also put large amounts of Oregano in my Fudge Highlights hot chocolate. The bastard. I couldn't seive it all out, so it had to be thrown away. Which is a pity, as I'd have loved a cup after a hard day around town.

Myself and my companion William Wordsworth decided to wander into town and visit a few friends. However, despite visiting no less than 3 different colleges, we didn't discover a single target home. Maybe next time!

post hunc fuit Samgar filius Anath qui percussit de Philisthim sescentos viros vomere et ipse quoque defendit Israhel. Satelles eram.

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Cum ego comitesque Wolfsonum Aulam transambulabunt, ingredi constituimus. Eheu! Gmaffus synthesibus candidati insidari erunt! Eos fugimus. Dum spiro spero.

As I was passing (area removed) one evening with a couple of acquaintances, a thought struck me with the force that ideas have when you've been eating curry all evening. Why don't we go lurk (area removed)? Sheer genius, given that one of our number had a target there. After wandering in, and heading towards Ninurta's room, we were dismayed to see a number of suspicious buggers congregating in their pyjamas and dressing gowns (and very nice they were too). The others beat a hasty retreat, with myself following. Amusingly, I managed to lure our handful of hunters to within a scant few feet of where my acquaintances were lurking - if my friends had been able to confirm that the stalkers were in fact bearing, there would be far fewer (college removed) amongst us today.

Upon passing (college removed), we realised that one of our number had a target therein, and ventured inside. As the only person who had met Ninurta previously, I was in the lead. Spotting a significant number of people in the kitchen ahead, I motioned for silence, but unfortunately my associate saw this instead as a signal to take out his CPS, noisily. As if this wasn't bad enough, a resident chose this moment to walk past, and saw everything. I suggested it might be a good time to take up hiding places and went up the stairs, but my cowardly assistants legged it instead. This left me upstairs with enemies potentially between me and my backup. After five minutes I took my chances; we ran into the darkened lounge area, pursued by people in various states of undress. Unbelievably, they then failed to spot us hiding there, and went back to bed.

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Today has been most eventful for me and my Yorkshire Rap Collective.

After a long and frustrating stake out with the crew at various different locations in cambridge, we called in at Queens in the search for a certain Mr R. Killip. The room was found, and without delay I rapped sharply at the door...

"Yes?"
"Richard!"
*click-click-click-click-click-click*
"oh you bastard."

Richard's lifeless body fell silently and metaphorically to the floor. Ninja Gardner: 1, Gulliable Queen: 0.

The brisk walk back through the Queens grounds was most uplifting, and many a cry of "Mad props to the Gardners!" arose from my fellow yorkshiremen.

Until next time...

A. Bitchmarsh and the Yorkshire Rap Collective

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I was dragged from writing a fascinating essay by a cry of "Assassins! Assassins everywhere!" I ran as far as the Plodge in time to see three black-clad figures disappearing through the front door. They had bravely run away.

et in conspectu sedis tamquam mare vitreum simile cristallo et in medio sedis et in circuitu sedis quattuor animalia plena oculis ante et retro et animal primum simile leoni et secundum animal simile vitulo et tertium animal habens faciem quasi hominis et quartum animal simile aquilae volanti et quattuor animalia singula eorum habebant alas senas et in circuitu et intus plena sunt oculis et requiem non habent die et nocte

In Robinsonum venite!
Nobis leoni sunt! O, et vitulae! O, quoque facies hominum aquilae volantae sunt!
Leoni vitulaeque faciesque hominum aquilae volantaeque solum in Robinson sunt!

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Melespuella, Melespuella, Melespuella, Melespuella Fungus! Fungus!
Melespuella, Melespuella, Melespuella, Melespuella Eheu! Woolgar est! Woolgar est!

Badger badger badger badger
Badger badger badger badger
Badger badger badger badger
Woolgar! Woolgar!

After hunting down my target and finding his room I noticed a rather distinctive object pinned to a noticeboard - a sock. My beautiful assistant urged me to take it and give it to Maz on the London Sock Exchange, but I noticed a name tag hanging out from the top. Recognising my target's name, I immediately came up with a more nefarious plan.

Taking some contact poison that I happened to have handy, I smeared the inside of the sock and left it back where we had found it - label prominently placed.

Hopefully this will not have been in vain, and if any of his friends look inside it they're going to really get the wrong idea...

A very enterprising assassin found one of socks somehow and left it pinned to a notice board on my staircase with poison on it. Luckily, I did not touch it.

Hey again,

Just to let you know that I assassinated Jack Eaton tonight. I was busy chatting on my mobile upstairs near the jcr, and then i spotted him...i knew that this was my chance. I said a quick goodbye and ran downstairs whereby I almost ran into him (an act of clumsy drunken-ness) and brandishing my faithful pistol, shot him down in the corridoor just before he could retaliate with his water pistol. Thus ended Jack Eaton.

Yours,
Rowan

petite et dabitur vobis quaerite et invenietis pulsate et aperietur vobis omnis enim qui petit accipit et qui quaerit invenit et pulsanti aperietur aut quis est ex vobis homo quem si petierit filius suus panem numquid lapidem porriget ei aut si piscem petet numquid serpentem porriget ei si ergo vos cum sitis mali nostis bona dare deifiliis vestris quanto magis deipater vester qui in [locum inretectum] est dabit bona petentibus se

Atat! Refeci!
In ludo interebam, o minime!
Attatae! Me decaelicola Cogitas
Ne tam innocens!

We wandered on to Harvey Court, and through great cunning made our way in to A staircase. Ahead of me, several of the six climbed the stairs to the kitchen, and enquired as to whether Raphael was around. Shots were fired, and as I climbed into view I saw a rather fat fellow, cheeks a bit rosy from whatever he had in his glass, drunkenly taunting my accomplices 'Ha ha, you shot an innocent, you're wanted now, ha ha!". He reminded me somewhat of that dumb kid in the Simpsons, Nelson is it?

Having thwarted our attack, and most eloquently put us down, they skillfully retired into the fat kids room. In a fit of brilliance, they left the door unlocked, and so A small cardboard box opened it and shot down Raphael. This let to a storm of protest from fat kid, about the illegal entering of his room and the vicious way it had been broken into, bypassing the cleverly non-locked door.

Being by now a little bored of his drunken ramblings, and quite frankly uninspiring face, we continued on our way.

Late in the evening I decided to go hunting in Harvey Court with an associate, Tom Booth. Fortunately, we were let in by a friend of a friend, thus evading both porters and evil swipe-key locks.

Ascending to the room of the wanted criminal Raphael, we discovered his door to be shut and locked. However, the door next to that was open, with four people inside. I stopped and asked if any of them were Del Ahmed, hoping for a reaction. However, my associate, who had studied Raphael's photo a good deal more closely than I had, reached past me and fired at the criminal, apparently missing him but regrettably hitting the innocent standing behind where Raphael was sitting. Then the door was slammed shut.

A few seconds later the innocent who had been hit squeezed out through the door, declared himself to be the owner of the room and confirmed that he had indeed been shot. We wandered off, having decided that there was no chance of killing the wanted man.

Or was there? We heard the innocent re-enter the room and close the door behind him and a thought struck us: what if he hadn't locked the door? I crept up to the dread portal and promptly opened the door (no resistance), took two strides in (to be sure I didn't repeat Tom's mistake of hitting an innocent) and gunned Raphael down where he sat.

At that point the room owner, who had been standing on the balcony, returned and ordered us out. Given that he seemed to be working himself up quite nicely, Tom and I promptly departed. I'm a little surprised by the reaction as, as I understand it, a certain amount of freedom to attack is implicit in the harbouring of an assassin.

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Walking down West road I met a group of people. I recognised some of them as assassins, so I took the precaution of looking over my shoulder when I had passed them. I saw The Supreme Inquisitor, His Reverence Lord Zacharias Spon, Paladin of the Gold Temple of the Knights Templar, Grand Inspector and Master of Ritual, Chronicler of the Ancient Texts, Prime Scrivener, Head of the Order of Crimson Scribes and Keeper of the Books of Law, Ceremony and Propriety. point me out to one of the people I didn't know, and then they came running after me. But I ran faster, and have survived to run another day.

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urban dictionary defines "googlewhack" as the following:
If you type a search term into a search engine and only get one result, that result is a googlewhack. Presumably, a true googlewhack is one found on Google.com No googlewhack lasts for long, as the Internet is always expanding and sometimes when people hear of a googlewhack, thy make a new website containing the search term and spoil it for everyone.

i propose a new deffinition; the phenomenon of finding that a target has many photos online, discovering which societies he's in, noting their training schedules and studying a map of his college, all from the comfort of your swivel chair...and the subsequent ease of dispatching said target.

the helpful chap also left his door open. churchill college looks like a 2yr old's drawing of his mother.

General Dissarray

Then the Umpire called the angel to him, whom he took to be a man, and said to him: Brother Mazrael, I pray thee hearken to my words: If I should give myself to be thy servant I should not make a worthy return for thy care.

However, I beseech thee, to take with thee bicycles and accomplices, and to go to The King of Wrong to WGB the building of the computer scientists: and to restore to him his note of targets, and receive of him the curses, and desire him to come to my website.

For thou knowest that my computer numbereth the days: and if I stay one day more, its CPU will be afflicted.

And indeed thou seest how the previous umpire hath adjured me, whose adjuring I cannot despise.

Then Mazrael took four of the Umpire's servants, and two bicycles, and went to WGB the building of the computer scientists: and finding The King of Wrong, gave him his note of targets, and received of him all the curses. And he told him concerning another target the son of another target, all that had been done: and made him come with him to the website.

I was lurking round a lecture one day,
In the very chilly month of February,
With a gun gripped in each hand,
Lack of target foiled my plan,
And merrily skipped I upon my way!

I was sitting in the lecture theatre after my lecture, when I saw someone to whom I shall refer as "Colonel Mustard" lurking by the entrance. I waited a few minutes, the decided to leave by the back exit, so that I might avoid getting caught in a any crossfire.

As I walked the exit, someone else, to whom I shall refer as "Brave Sir Robin", approached me from behind and suggested that we leave together and agree not to kill each other between the two lectures. I agreed to this, as I either wasn't targetting him or didn't feel like backstabbing him.

I suspected that Colonel Mustard was in fact targetting Brave Sir Robin. I suggested that we leave the theatre separately, with a half minute gap between us. Brave Sir Robin disagreed. I opened the door and held it open for Brave Sir Robin to walk through. He did not move.

I walked out through the door and was confronted by the dangerous criminal Tom Booth. I was so surprised to see a lazy historian awake and in West Cambridge during the morning that I hesitated for a couple of seconds before shooting him.

Brave Sir Robin followed my lead by mutilating his corpse.

attempted to assassinateMy little pony. knocked on door. he peeped through peep hole (most unfair!). was met with response "fuck off, its too early to be assassinated". lazy git! walked off sadly defeated.

"What do you want to apply?"
m
"What do you want to apply the magic marker to?"
s
"what type of scroll do you want to write?"
mail
"s - a scroll of mail"
#dip
"what do you want to dip?"
s
"what do you want to dip the scroll into?"
p
"Interesting..."
_(.
#loot
"There is a pigeonhole here. Loot it? (ynq)"
y
"What do you want to do?
i-Put something in the pigeonhole
o-Take something out of the pigeonhole
b-both"
i
"What do you want to put in the pigeonhole?"
s
"You put the scroll in Mademoiselle Noire's pigeonhole."

A obtenu un prospectus empoisonné dans mon trou de pigeon. L'a donné une chiquenaude à hors avec le cintre et enlevé à une huche avec les gants. Quand ces gens apprendront ?

Went to kill March Hare and got inside the actual building and located his room, but some crazy person (probably March Hare himself) started to scream at me because he didnt recognise me or something and I was forced out of the building.

Someone came into my corridor at about 2:40 to kill me, but failed and shot at an innocent friend of mine, killing her, probably. Name unknown, but was a male with glasses

This afternoon I felt like a little stress relief. I decided to call on a lady named Rowan Fields... however, upon arrival I found her room inhabbited by no less than three voices. I knocked on her door and remained out of sight for a while, but the lady in question sent out a shady looking scout who discovered me. After a few more attempts at luring her out I decided to leave, but I found said scout to be tailing me for quite some time after the event. He seemed to be spending far too much time with his hand in his pocket. I presume it was a gun, and hope he wasnt just pleased to see me.

Hearing news of deaths both legal and otherwise in New Hall, the Unpire decided to investigate personally. AutoUnpire helpfully pointed out the existence of SavvyMarmot, still alive. Deciding to take an active role for once, The Unpire resolved to speed things up by dealing with this player whilst he was in the area. Upon locating his door, he knocked, but received no reply. The door was found to be locked. The Unpire would like all players to note that he cannot condone this regrettable tactic of players locking their door whilst out. It slows play down, and serves only to delay the inevitable.

Went to do some recon on our mutual friend Calliope today. After completing this i left him a preasent. A positivily explosive CD that i am sure he will enjoy greatly.

A CD case that bore our hero's name, From unknown sorce into his life became, Suspicious of this gift, he look about, And saw there was no Disc: thus he did doubt!

Was this a gift? He wondered not! but thought, This is a bomb! For no CD he bought, Then, wearing gloves and tweezers held for sooth, Into the air-tight box marked "bomb-proof booth",

And Lo! Upon the opening of case, A shout of thunder! Zeus had been displaced! Replaced by this, a cracker-thing within, (No name). He threw the whole thing in the bin.

I went and staked out a Part 1B CompSci group project meeting containing two of my targets (AfterEight and an earthworm). Was involved in a high speed bicycle chase of who I believe was AfterEight but just as I was about to catch up my gun fell from my grasp. By the time I had recovered it AfterEight had melted into the night.

I think Superman and Santa Claus are actually the same guy, and I'll tell you why: both fly, and both have a beard.

There were three letters in my pigeonhole this evening. Although they didn't explode when prodded, one of them *crackled* as I picked it up. On opening with rubber gloves, it proved to be filled with flour, and a very sweet letter about how to set up a physics experiment. I'm touched.

I'd like to inform you of an attempt on my life this evening, at about 8pm. I was just about to settle down to begin some supervision work when my doorbell was rung. Opening the door slightly, I found no one there. Rapidly shutting it again I waited in anticipation. Within a minute or so of this, I saw three assassins leaving my block. Shame thought I, but then, another ring of my doorbell and I saw them standing by my outside door again! How rude thought I, interrupting my scholarly activities for a second foolish attempt. This time, to their credit they had been more crafty, having deposited a 1l carton of orange juice outside my door with a cap detonator attached. Sadly, (for them) on opening the door the cap *failed* to go off, and as a consequence I remain in the land of the living for a blessed while longer! Thanks for the entertainment guys, now I *really* need to do something productive!! :p

I fear that there shall be a storm tonight, To mark the passing of this strangest sight, Our hero, walking back to Hassan's door, To check the status of the his bomb afore.

But Lo! Our hero didst not make thus far, For of his path two shady men didst bar, He went past both, and onto the kitchen top, Whence turnabout about to draw and not to stop,

For in the hands of former shady man, A NERF device (like those of Taliban), Was in his hand and in plain view of all, Our hero sprang forth leaping into hall,

And fired a shot, of purest aim and true, That found it's path, into the man, and through, To leave a corpse, his soul had gone erstwhile, The other man did flee from scenes so vile.

Our hero hid in kitchen for a breath, Whilst lying all around, the stink of death, When all was clear, he mounted up and left, Across a world, of one more man bereft.

Once again, I arrived at Robinson in search of the super paranoid Melpomene, this time in the company of Alan Bitchmarsh and the Yorkshire Rap Collective. Alan Bitchmarsh and the Yorkshire Rap Collective tried to lure Melpomene out with talk of some Caius mafia rubbish (everyone knows that there are no mafias in Cambridge), but he decided despite his interest he wasn't going to emerge. Instead, another gentleman dressed in a long black leather jacket appeared and headed up the stairs, past Alan Bitchmarsh and the Yorkshire Rap Collective sat harmlessly in a chair and myself stood with a pump-action Nerf gun at the top of the stairs. Disappearing into the kitchen, he reappeared with a triumphant "ha HA!" and fired an RBG three or four times in my direction. Non of the shots came anywhere near me however, and I returned fire with a foam dart, narrowly missing him as he ducked back into the kitchen. Alan Bitchmarsh and the Yorkshire Rap Collective and myself then ran like buggery out of Robinson.

Dear Umpire,

Today I saw Matthew Johnson. However on reflection, it turned out not to be him. If you are feeling stressed with reports and the like, you can always drop by for tea.

Yours,
Chris Field.

Amidst the war of worlds we hear a cry, That A Hassain did cause a man to die, By means that were displeasing to the gods, And call'd for him to taste of whips and rods!

They spoke in words to their own man on Earth, And drove him forth with worlds forlorn of mirth, Enragéd thus he sped forth from his cell, Set in his arms, the weapons spat from Hell.

'Twixt night and day he rode his faithful steed, With mortal faith, but edged with godly speed, And reaching there the place allotted then, With ear upon the door he listened in...

Great joy was felt for all was not in vain! (For though he'd fought great beasts in lashing rain) There in this room the wanted's breath discerned, And blazed he forth with anger in return,

But Lo! He checked and reeléd in discust, The door was locked, and from his mouth he cussed! The Gods forsook his kill and stayed his hand, Instead he turned to 'B', the second plan,

A mighty bomb boombastic in it's size, Enough to bringeth tears to devils' eyes! And hoping then the gods would hold his side, Our hero, back into the night didst stride.

Me and Deebo were eating minstrels in my room when we spotted two characters dressed predominantly in black looking at us oddly and reading door numbers down our corridoor. We quickly loaded bands and prepared for the onslaught. We openned the door and saw them not two metres away, outside Deebos door. They saw our guns and put up their hands, claiming that we couldn't shoot them as they weren't bearing weapons. We asked who they were after, and they claimed to be targetting a room number which we knew did not house an assassin. Clearly they were in fact after Deebo, as they were outside his door and would have attacked me when I opened my door if they were after my room. In order to buy time we shut the door again, upon which they were heard to shout:

"Awww, they don't want to play. How about we give them a ten second head start?"

Considering this to be taking the piss in the extreme, we opened the door firing and took them both down with repeated shots to the torso and limbs. Who killed who is uncertain, but we stand by our decision since anyone who waits outside Deebo's room, claiming to be an assassin, deserves whatever comes to them.

Having planned to get up early to hunt assassin, i wasn't entirely surprised to wake up hearing some rattling at my door. 2 assassins trying to set a bomb for me debated whether I could see them through my door while I watched them. Knowing that the earlier I attacked the more chance of survival I had, I quickly pulled some clothes on and opened the door, which detonated the trigger (which I swear one of them was holding on to...) and shot madly. Mad shooting from all parties followed (after a brief discussion where we wondered if we were all dead from the bomb anyway), after which it was unclear who had actually died... The agreement was that my assassin had died.

Dear Mr Umpire,

This morning I did lurk for the Dastardly and Evil Criminal Mr Duncan "dunkyb" Brewer between the hours of 10.50 and 11.05, in the place that I saw him at 11.00 last Thursday morning. But I was foiled by the simple reason that he wasn't there. Curses.

Love and fluffles,

Rosemary

I was walking through the New Museums Site and I spied someone blatantly waving an RBG around. His companions appeared to be unarmed, so feeling particularly bloodthirsty, I crept up behind him and shot him at point blank range. Sadly, he was already dead and despite this unfortunate medical condition and the fact I had just mutilated him, he was quite friendly and explained he was taking his gun to be fixed. He did ask my name and pseudonym but in a moment of paranoia, I decided to keep quiet. Guess he'll know now, though ;) Oh well, I'll actually have to go and kill one of my real targets. Sucks, it's always such a disappointment when you haven't slaughtered someone before midday.

Our hero made his way 'er rough terrain,
Unto the place where beasts and foul are slain,
But on that route, he chanced upon two men,
Of whom he knew the first, whose name was Ben.

With greetings cheer and winks of cunning guile,
He talked with them and soon found after while,
That they had come to play a little game,
And spoke of Alex H, the wanted's name.

And thinking he could use this chance for good,
He led them over sea, cross land, by wood,
Unto the door of dwelling place forspoke,
And waited for them both their arms decloak,

When seeing both their cans of silly-string,
Out of his cloak his own device did spring,
And sweetly emptied rounds into them both,
And watched in awe the pools of bloody growth.

My brother is dead. melponeme shall perish. and graham thompson too. VERITAS. i speak the truth. melponeme i will execute as he repents. i shall send him to whichever god he does wish. Calliope i shall dispose of in a ghastly manner. (well fuckit he's used to that). Melponeme and Calliope you have crossed over into true corruption, into our domain. NOW YOU WILL DIE. So swears murphy. and i'm strangely comfortable with it.

now, where's that ouisgebeath?

shite, the cat's had it.

VERITAS i speak the truth.

I would also like to point out that pointless death threats are, well, pointless. a somewhat tautological notion, however it means something to someone.

"Oh lord, raise me up to thy right hand and count me amongst thy saints"

The Duracell Bunny goes on a mail campaign. First, a posion letter went to Christopher "Kit" Jenkins then, with extra energy when I need it most, I went on to the CMS to deliver another one to Neil Morrison.

Today I received a letter. I very rarely get letters, particulary not ones with a suspicious bulge and just my name (handwritten) on the front so I'm sure you can imagine just how excited I was about this particular one. After donning gloves and peering into the envelope, I was shocked to see pieces of confetti had fallen out of the letter into the envelope. It now resides in my bin.

Upon investigation of my pigeonhole this morning, I found to my delight an unusually large brown envelope with an unknown handwriting on the front. I duly wrapped it in a copy of TCS and returned to my room to investigate further. Begloved, I carefully lay the envelope on the newspaper and slit it open just enough to percieve the contents. Some further cutting, and it became apparent that I had just disarmed a highly dangerous answer sheet from my supervisor. Am missing being in mortal danger.

At 4pm, I ventured forth to collect both information and supplies. The supplies were adequately procured, as were the supplies, and my wandering feet took me unexpectedly to my target's abode, where a locked door prevented further approach. Also, saw someone who looked remarkably like Simeon Bird, but who on further inspection proved to have a much better beard.

Dearest Umpire,

I just saw Santa. He was riding a bicycle down King's Parade. He looked a bit like this. Although perhaps not as Irish. I hope he was bringing you lots of presents!

Yours with care,
Chris Field

I finally got round to checking my pigeon hole today, and found a BPL. Not quite as impressive as those I'm accustomed to receiving, I'm afraid - back to competence class for you.

Being in a chatty mood, I wanted to get in touch with my bestest friend Gordon. So being the eager early bird that I am, I wandered the short distance up to his college stopping on the way to get a bite to eat. Casually sitting there watching the people passing by I started to wonder if he acutally attended lectures at all. By 9:45 I was getting rather cold, so I decieded to chat to my friend another time.

My mistakes:

1) He doesnt go to lectures (normal student behaviour)

2) His lectures are at a later time (need to recheck)

or most probably 3) He walked straight past me and the blury photo I have didnt let me recognise him. (But luckily for me he didnt recognise his bestest friend either)

My fabled rival william wordsworth came knocking at my door but was unable to counter the spells and wards that i had placed upon it. I placed a tracking spell upon the unfortunate muggle and as he atempted to flee i sped after him on by broomstick and used my well practed abra kadabra charm to to slay him.

The increseingly trained
Wizzard in Training

at around 17:00 today i left a large (8litre!!) bomb atop of my target's kitchen cupboard with a cunning mechanism to blow him and most of his corridor away when he went for food. however, as i made my retreat i spied the target and executed a clean kill, rendering the excessive explosive obsolete...so i disarmed it. no innocents were harmed and he'd already been killed earlier in the day anyway.

summary......a wasted afternoon building a bomb.

I spent a lovely evening along with Ninurta waiting around Magdalene and abouts in the hope of spotting the wanted criminal, Chris Jenkins. I saw him briefly on Magd bridge, but what with all the people around was unable to shoot him. We later lurked outside the local drinking establishment for about half an hour, having seen him scurry inside, but to no avail, he must have got away with the crowds at closing time. Just to let him know... I'll be waiting....

10:30pm: This evening I joined Custard-on-a-Sunday in spending an arduous half hour in a pub, waiting for Chris Jenkins to leave so we could... remove him. He was certainly also in there, but we must have lost him at closing time. Oops.

I approached unknown territory today, armed to the teeth, and treading softly. Having found where my target lurked, I was about to ready my weapons when a vile and inquisitive person (doubtless a friend of the target) asking me what I was doing. I got decidedly the worst of the subsequent bluffing match and the person disapeared. On arriving at my target's room, I disscoved that he was either out, or too affraid to face me. Due to his cowardice, I had no option but to leave to hunt elsewhere.

It was at this point I was suddenly oversome with love of the umpire and his fair and impartial judgements. I decided therefore to try to eliminate a wanted target for him. Despite attending dinner at a foreign college (which was disgusting, I might add), and then waiting for him to appear outside his cave, the elusive criminal did not emerge. Apparently, he was off gorging himself at another college. At this point I realised that the omens against me this day were not favourable, so I retreated to my adobe to construct a viscious devive to blow future foes into the netherworld.

I was planning to kill Foxy on his way to lectures, I had a cunning plan, known as Stage 4. Unfortunately for foxy, he was outside his house 20 minutes earlier than expected which meant i got to carry out the plan and also chase after him for a good block and a half first. Not being entirely sure about the range of my RBG, i decided to use the next best thing, a SuperSoaker CPS 2000.

That's nice, Foxy.

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This little Mushroom went to (College removed.)
This little Mushroom went to (Colleg removed.)
This little Mushroon went to (College removed.)
And left them all a little treat...

Umpire dearest,

It has been quite an exciting couple of days since I last emailed you! Firstly, I saw Edward Allcutt walking home on Thursday Night. This wasn't that exciting though, as these days he's just a big beardy non-player. My Friday began with a sighting Stephen Chester and Patrick Snow walking to lectures. They were very suspicious of me for some strange reason. Then I caught sight of that vile arch-fiend Duncan Brewer, but he was running away. Shortly after this who do I see on a distant path but Simeon Bird once again! This time he was walking with Ed Sapeira, and I don't know where they were going. Before I even reached home that I also met Steve McCann, dashing into Kings and wishing me a good day. That afternoon I was also opportune in spotting Richard Gibson and Alex Labram. The thrill was just starting to get all too much for me when I found someone had ever so kindly left an essay on the french language in my pigeonhole. A careful disposal of this was performed, not overly challenging due to the visibly large amounts of vaseline smeared all over it. They did sign themselves off with a pretty, girly signature 'Mushroom'. I do hope that next time they send me a copy without so many mistakes in it.

Anyway, I hear you've been having a bit of a tough time, so here's a great big hug from me {{hug{}}}. Do take care!

Yours,
Chris Field

On checking my pigeon-hole this evening, I found an unexpected delivery. It was placed in a most devious manner, such that without the most careful inspection, one might not notice the generous smear of contact poison on the underside. Thankfully, such careful inspection was undertaken, and I was not.

The lamest of poison letters was attempted against me. Thanks to the assasin for the free unused stamp.

Myself, The Supreme Inquisitor, His Reverence Lord Zacharias Spon, Paladin of the Gold Temple of the Knights Templar, Grand Inspector and Master of Ritual, Chronicler of the Ancient Texts, Prime Scrivener, Head of the Order of Crimson Scribes and Keeper of the Books of Law, Ceremony and Propriety. and Mr.Booth were in the neighbourhood of the wanted criminal Duncan Brewer and thought it would be impolite not to wait for him and say hello. His neighbour emerged, we asked her if Duncan was in, and it appeared he was.

Minutes Passed.

TACTICAL RETREAT!!! TACTICAL RETREAT!!!! DEAR GOD WILL NOONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN, AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Minutes Passed.

I'm quite impressed with my bravery and conduct in this attempt and assure you that soon i could well be running away from a house near you.

My plan was cunning,
My heart was willing,
A chance meet before lectures
And on with the killing.

But sadly the mind,
Was stopped by the body,
Oh the comfort of bed,
Don't really want him dead.

And so now I ponder,
My question is vexing,
If an attempt is not attempted,
does it make a competence?

In conclusion dear Umpire,
I couldn't be arsed,
I promise my next report,
Will be less of a farce.

SUBJECT: FREEMAN

STATUS: HIRED

AWAITING ASSIGNMENT


The borderworld, Oxford, in in our control, for the time being, thanks
to you. Quite a nasty piece of work you managed over there. I am impressed.

Which brings us to why I am here. Your... exploits have attracted the
attention of my... employers and they have authorised me to offer you a
job. You clearly have limitless... potential.

You've proved to be a decisive man, so I'm sure you'll have no problems
deciding what to do. If you're interested, please undo the
shrinkwrapping on the CD and place it into the computer platform of your
choice, where you will be able to read the conditions you've just
inadvertantly accepted. Otherwise... there are other borderworlds out
there. I can offer you a battle in Durham you have no chance of winning.
Somewhat anticlimatic.

Time to choose, Dr Freeman.

...

Welcome to City 42. Wake up. Wake up and smell the ashes.

Our... benefactors have found a task worthy of your... extensive
talents. Concealed in the city beyond the citadel there are a number of
individuals, who we would... rather not have to deal with. The leader of
a particularly deviant faction determined to undo all that we have
worked to create here has recently raised their profile. Our... friends
would be grateful if the matter was resolved as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, we have had to confiscate your weaponry. It was
government property, after all. However, we have found a t-shirt with a
superficial resemblance to your hazardous environment suit.

I'm sure you'll want to complete this assignment as soon as possible.
After all, should you fail to live up to our... expectations there are
still a number of odd jobs that need doing in Anomalous Materials. The
test chamber still hasn't been cleaned out since your last... visit there.

We can't offer you any... equipment for this task but it would seem you
are... well skilled with a crowbar. The last time we saw it was
disappearing into a inter-dimensional hyperspace gate of frequency pi,
but we're sure your paper on 'Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen Entanglement on
Supraquantum Structures by Induction Through Nonlinear Transuranic
Crystal of Extremely Long Wavelength (ELW) Pulse from Mode-Locked Source
Array' will prove useful in improvising something. In the meanwhile, a
small rubber fish will have to suffice. If it makes you feel any better
we can describe it as a polymer/colloidial pisciform personal defensive
apparatus.

Rather than offer you the illusion of free choice, I will take the
liberty of accepting this undertaking on your behalf. Goodbye, Dr Freeman.

This has been quite an exciting day so far, let's go back and have a wee rest. Oh, theres Chris Field....

Minutes Passed.

TACTICAL RETREAT!!! TACTICAL RETREAT!!! AHHHHHHHH!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Minutes Passed.

It appears as though he probably doesn't want me dead, phew!

At 11:25am this morning I left a shocking excuse for a poison letter in my target's pidgeonhole. I may be incompetent, but at least I am not yet Incompetent.

i survived a bomb and poisen letter attempt yesterday, 3pm. a combined clever little device was put in my pigeon hole with kind regards from Comrade Krasnei. said device was defused, and handled for safe disposal...i WILL cleanse the roots of all evil,

The Phoenix has risen from the ashes once more. But now has spawned a wiser Phoenix. His rambo tactics of last term left five corpses within the first few days, but left him open to attack himself, and led to his ultimate downfall. This time, The Phoenix has been hiding in the shadows, biding his time, waiting for his moment to strike. This afternoon he ventured into the passageways of doom, searching for a certain Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson. Alas, his mark was no where in sight. But The Phoenix shall return, watching, waiting...

I stumbled upon Neil Morrison today. Unfortunately he dodged my holy hand-grenade and ninja-roped out of range of the ming vase and the homing pigeon crashed en-route but the cool precision of the RBG was too much.

"Oh dear!"

* pop *

Worm of the match: an earthworm
Most kills: an earthworm
Least dangerous worm: Neil Morrison

Like all evil twins, I harbor a smoldering loathing towards my less ethically challenged sibling. The smiling face, the laugh, the ability to feel true joy...why couldn't I have been the one to inherit these qualitys? So, in a fit of jealous rage ( of which I suffer from many ), I decided to do away with my long-lost womb-mate, (Zonked Quokka). Taking a large quantity of a highly toxic poison, I filled an envelope with the substance and prepared to deliver it to my nemesis. At the last minute I decided that I would append some religous literature explaining the basic doctrines of my faith - at least that way, as he died, he might find salvation. But probably not because I made up the religion while drunk as a way to fleece lesser mortals and gain power over them! Such is the way of the evil twin.

Ok, so saturday evening arrives and signs of life are seen from one of my triumvirate of aspiring killers. A small envelope secreted in my pigeonhole purporting to be 'The answer to your question' , now whilst i think trying to masquerade as dodgy spam is a novel idea, i feel less threatened when said envelope turns out to rattle. Thus wearing gloves saved me from a hideous spicy death. Better luck next time."

Feeling tired and bored I popped off to a friends to find something to do, unfortunatly as we had no beer to chat over a quick outing to sainsburies was required. While there I finally bumped into my old friend Gordon Ball : D. At first I didnt recognise him but my friend pointed out who he was so I popped back to chat. Unfortunately my knife slipped out of my sleeve as I approached and I proceeded to brutally stab him to death.
Oh well
I can chat to him in the afterlife then..."

One Friday the day before Saturday that is today (ie. yesterday) G.I.Bob lurked in waiting for the not-at-all-dastardly Gentleman Assassin from 2020 to 2150. Despite being only 2cm tall he decided to take some precautons, and so disguised himself as Pai Mei (the White Lotus priest). There was much laughing and beard stroking, but unfortunately no sighting of the villain. G.I.Bob eventually gave up and went to play a game of Go with the Unpire.

i would like to report a foolish failed attempt on my life by a certain "timitaeus minimus" as the poisoned letter was signed. Fortunately, as was alluded to, i dont have a supervision on a monday and so the letter containing "work for monday" was all too easy to spot as a hoax. With gloves donned, the letter was suitably dealt with and read. Please advise not to use so much powder next time as i do not appreciate a poisoned bin.

someone knocked on my door. i had some friends round and one opened the door. a shot was heard and she retreated unharmed. next another friend left the room to check the corridoor and knocked over a bottle bomb as she opened the door - a civilian was assassinated! quelle horreur!

In order to demonstrate the superiority of paper over other forms of weapon, I prepared an explosive device full of razor sharp paper shards designed to slice and dice anyone standing near when it went off. The only problem was, while the device was very good in theory there was noone to test it on. I decided to call by Paula Wylie see what it would make of her. When I arrived at her door, I heard voices inside so not wanting do disturb anyone I left the device next to the door for her to find. I then knocked on the door and ran away like a big frightened chicken, in true heroic style. Incidentally it's very strange how sound travels further at night - it was as I was on my way out at the porters lodge I heard a loud 'bang' from behind me as the thing went off (presumably - I suppose it could have been something else going 'bang').

"1. Go.
2. Wait.
3. Nothing happens.
4. Leave.
5. ...
6. PROFIT!!!"

Today a most blatant attempt was made on my life via a poisoned letter. It was so obviously poisoned as it had grubby smears on the front of it from whatever vile substance nestked within. Donning my poison resistant gloves, I found a most inarticulate letter from one who called themselves 'zonked quokka'. They spelt my name incorrectly on the enevelpe, confirming my suspicions that they must possess only the most elementary intellegence. I look forwards to their future attempts to kill me, wondering how much more blatent they can get. It did, however, contain some quite pretty gold glitter, so at least this pretender has some sense of the decorative.

-.-. --.- -.-. --.-
QTH (college removed) QTR 2120
QTC?

QTC 2. QSL ?

QSL. QRA Zonked Quokka
... -.-

I remember when I posed as a customs officer so that I could meet Oscar Wilde. I said to him "Have you anything to declare?" He said "I have nothing to declare but my genius." I said "I'll put that down as nothing then shall I?" For I am the wittiest man on Earth.

Today I received a seemingly innocent letter from "Bertie Dirch". luckily due to my ever increasing paranoia I opened said letter with gloves to discover that it was in fact filled with contact poison from one Dr.corkscrew! So thankfully I survived which is more than can be said for my fav black bag which is now an attractive shade of grey!

I keep running into old friends. Today I saw Mike Cripps. He didn't have much to say to me, in fact he jumped and stared fixedly at the F in the word "Final Reductions" in a shop window. I wonder why...

Incompetence was lurking, and so was I. Following the decrees of the Bavarian Illuminati, I travelled to The Unpire's house, where I proceeded to blend into the scenery. Judging by the close scrutiny some passers-by made of my particular bit of scenery, I may not have been enirely successful. The target not being evident, I returned to my lair.

Stood outside target's door for a bit. Got bored. Started walking home. It started to drizzle. I got mildly wet. The end.

Wandered lonely,
New college to I came,
Door very locked,
To my shame.

Tried to pull it
Tried to push it,
Even shot it,
With a rubber bullet.

So I left her,
A poisoned card,
Her death's as likely,
As I'm a bard.

At around 15:20 this afternoon, the Unpire paid another visit to New Hall. Keen to check all players are well, he gave a friendly knock on the door of The Unpire. Upon receiving no reply, the Unpire was concerned she could be ill. To this end, a letter was left attached to the door, containing a friendly note, liberally coated with a substance designed to restore her condition to stable. The Unpire hopes all players appreciate the dangers of glove, and the necessity of opening all post.

Another unimaginative atempt to avoid incompetance the day before the deadline - a very badly executed poisoned letter was blu-tacked to my door, bearing my name, misspelled and with lip salve showing throught the envelope. Unfortunately a good friend, an innocent visiting from London, touched the offneding substance and is dead in my place. Honestly, i'm not the most pro-active assassin out there but a little imagination guys...

Twas brillig and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Beware the assassin my son.
The knife that stabs, the gun that shoots.
Beware the accomplice and shun,
The frumious criminal.

I took my vorpal gun in hand.
Long time the manxome foe I sought.
So rested I in wait to lie.
And stood a while, in thought.

And, as in darkened room I stood,
Two neighbours, a man and dame,
Came whistling up to where I stood,
And asked me "What's your name?"

One two, One two and through and through
We stood and talked of this and that.
The girl had left, my cover blown,
So I came galumphing back.

And hast thou slain thine target?
Get back to work you 'orrible lad!
Oh dreadful day! Go earn your pay
The Umpire was so mad!

Twas brillig and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the bororoves
And the mome raths outgrabe.

I wanted to give Nigel Damascena some unsolicited assistance, but she didn't turn up.

Hello Mr David,

Today I saw Simeon Bird.

He had a hat.

I also lurked outside Duncan's house at half-five-ish, to KILL HIM.

Unfortuante (sic), he wasn't very there.

Chocolate is good.

Aisle Two is not where we saw the Umpire, in fact, we didn't see him at all.

Kindest Regards,

Gnomic.