My Novel

[Mince]

Twice, at an orgasmic crossroads, a tramp with a cramp

Now we're getting somewhere.

[Tarquin Thunderthighs lll]

If you say so.

[The Peepmaster]

Twice, at an orgasmic crossroads, a tramp with a cramp

Now we're getting somewhere.

Twice, at an orgasmic crossroads, a tramp with a cramp
A little tramp with clogs on,
Well, I declare,

[Mince]

I can't take my novel seriously now.

I will have to start again.

Dust hammered like lazy smoke at the hairs in his nostrils. Two fat splinters of light sprawled across the heavy mahogany of the room's only table, giving a smug glow to the blood-splashed winning poker hand lying upturned on a pile of crisp fifties in the centre.

[The Peepmaster]

I can't take my novel seriously now.

I will have to start again.

Dust hammered like lazy smoke at the hairs in his nostrils. Two fat splinters of light sprawled across the heavy mahogany of the room's only table, giving a smug glow to the blood-splashed winning poker hand lying upturned on a pile of crisp fifties in the centre.

What was the pile of crisps doing in the centre?

[Tarquin Thunderthighs lll]

Would that be "Red dust hammered..."?

[Tom]

What was the pile of crisps doing in the centre?

They'd had all of the rest of the buffet and they were left.

[The Peepmaster]

What was the pile of crisps doing in the centre?

They'd had all of the rest of the buffet and they were left.

So, someone's made off with the buffet... This could be a defective detective novel.