A hoy hoy,
Brixley here and not without cause. The past few days have been a blur of high speed motorway pursuits, glamourous cocktail parties and drug induced hallucinations that rival any Lynch film. In brief, apres J.R. Bingham made his way to Oxford and collected me at the golf links we found ourselves in a high octane chase on the motorway with non-other than Oxford and Webster posing as officers of the law – their treachery knows no boundarations. We were able to shake them just like the martinis we consumed upon our arrival of an Oxford Journalists’ soirée that we had been privy to. Unfortunations became us as our drinks had been spiked with a strand of super ethanol that we – due to our excessive drinking of said substance – became quite intoxibreated and the next few days were spent at what I believed to be a casino although I am not aware of any in the near proximity. That being said I woke up in a library in which city, I am not sure but as soon as I depart the building’s illustrious swivel doors I will make an assessment. Until next timely.