The Clock's Ticking Down...

[Tom]

{Windows hastily being boarded up}

[The Peepmaster]

[Tarquin Thunderthighs lll]

{Vultures circling overhead}

I thought she'd gone to bed.

[The Peepmaster]

{Vultures circling overhead}

I thought she'd gone to bed.

Was she on a promise?

[Vulture]

{Vultures circling overhead}

I thought she'd gone to bed.

Was she on a promise?

I wish!!

[peter]

o

[Mince]

Okay, I'm here to sort you all out.

Tarquin, I don't want to hear a sound from you until I've dealt with Peepmaster.

[Tarquin Thunderthighs lll]

THHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP-P-P-P!

[Mince]

Peepmaster, perhaps you might explain this that I found in the moderators' log:

[The Peepmaster]

That'd be more effective if you had it moving across the screen, Tarquin.

[The Peepmaster]

I was watching football then, Mince. Did you leave your keys lying unattended somewhere?

[Mince]

It was done under your account. I think that makes you responsible either way.

I'll ask Roger to mete out some punishment.

[The Peepmaster]

Hmmm - It's me and Roger's forum, and you're a nerd. We'll have a meeting about it and get back to you.

Thanks. That'll be all.  :

[Tarquin Thunderthighs lll]

I didn't know we had a log. I'd have built a fire.

Moderator's Log - star date 19020.8 - these are the voyages of the U.S.S. Boobyprize...

[Tom]

{Bleeping and pinging noises in the background}