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Not sure what all transpired towards the end of our most recent celebrations as I drifted off then, (Aberfeldy makes me sleepy). However, something of interest clearly went on as I awoke this morning to find my barrister's wig turned inside out and sitting sideways on my head and the keys I normally keep beneath said wig stuffed into the toe of my left boot. Further, when I went out to retrieve the Crossley from in front of the privy, I found catch had remained locked in the outhouse all night. When I opened the door he was standing there, looking a tad on the ragged side, and trying to saw away the boards of the back wall with a pastry knife. Also present was the the badger, on the floor of the privy, unconscious or possibly dead, with a large knot on its head and a rather bent 3-iron lying next to it. catch was out of there in a shot, asking if I'd seen Fullofit and muttering something under his breath about getting two pounds owed him. Ah well, I'm sure it's nothing. Of additional note, ever since waking up I've had an irresistible craving for a large piece of cake and a burlesque show. Go figure.

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