I skipped first lecture this morning due to slight hangover and still being very drunk, but heard someone ask "Where's Jenny?" outside at about 9. As I had left notes announcing the end of my mafia agreement to other wanted Girton policemen on their doors really quite early last night, I attempted to load an RBG and shot through a crack in the door. The gun fouled up and I slammed the door on a stream of water.
He wouldn't go away and I thought he might be a classicist and therefore be able to hang around all day. So after extended conversations through the door we agreed to join together and kill the other wanted policeman, promising not to kill each other. We couldn't remember whether the policeman had water weapons in his room or not, so I lent him an RBG and we went off to find Chris Watling, me still wearing a fluffy blue dressing gown.
Unfortunately Chris went to the lecture I missed, and was out. I knocked on
the door and after no reply was forthcoming found my RBG pointed at my head
at point blank range from behind me. "Drop your gun and walk very slowly
this way" said my erstwhile comrade.
Inebriated corrupt police officers don't follow pacts when they want a good photo. After an extended period of hibernation and a boat club 'cocktail party' I was desperate to use my chainsaw and if the intended target isn't in that's too bad. Jenny made an admirable rush for the RBG's whilst I posed behind her with a chainsaw triumphantly held aloft but the water pistol pointed at her head proved faster. Time of death 9.02 am - the corpse was dismembered and buried under a patio.
Agent Sarcastic Truck Dodger is invited to submit the photograph to be placed on the website (I'll add suitable blurring).
It looks like I'm well and truly dead now anyway, so no biscuits! Actually I was going to give you some, but I was intercepted by a Bjoern Holzhauer on the way to lectures (via your pigeonhole) when I was about to cross Queen's Road. Then, on arrival at lectures, I was shot by another Bjoern Holzhauer. Coming out of lectures, I was killed again by Robert Hiersemenzel, who was talking to another assassin (who might have been the fourth person to kill me). So it looks like no amount of biscuits will be able to save me from three deaths (you only live twice after all).
Part Two in a collectable patchwork "Why Saturday Lectures are not worth attending"...
This morning Sergeant Spectre was shot for a handful of biscuits, on his way to Saturday lectures. Again. Wanting to be sure of being first in line for the Bourbon Creams, I had decided to move closer to the source of the chain, as in were, so to speak, and so lurked on the backs. Needless to say, my objective was robbery, pure and simple: "Put your hands up and hand over the biscuits." He did, and I shot him anyway, in a thoroughly ungentlemanly manner, for trying to bribe a player.
All your biscuit are belong to us.
Today striaght after lectues, The Wig terminated Jack Vickeridge with the utmost prejudice. The Wig remembered an incident some time back now and was determined to execute everything with total precision. Corruption cannot be tolerated!
A few seconds later, David Chow emerged and met the same fate as Jack, death by the gun of The Wig, after another potential killer had kindly agreed to let The Wig handle the situation (I honestly wouldn't have shot him for bearing weapons, I'm a nice Wig, really!). Unfortunately Mr. Chow was already dead, it is believed that this was caused by excessive consumption of Bourbon biscuits.
The True Law can never be breached for long.
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