Hello Aussieville. Came all the way back here, to straighten out a few things. Things you should know abut your erm...'guest'.
You see good peeps, I knew this would happen. The minute my back was turned, he starts to besmirch my good name. Well I didn't get where I am to-day, by having my good name besmirched.
Right. Off we go. Are you all sitting comfortably ? Well I'll begin.
Logs started off in life as a Rag-and-Bone man. A 'Tatter'. He fell on hard times however, when his horse died. Then, would you believe it, the very next day, someone stole his cart. It was at this point that he fell on hard times. Down, down, down he sank, into the depths of despair, finally hitting the bottle.
It was round about this time, that I met him. A sorry, forlorn looking, emaciated, dishevelled wretch - actually he's not much different even now - rummaging through the rubbish bins, behind the Dorchester Hotel, in London.
Like a fool, I felt sorry for him, and took him in. I fed him, clothed him, gave him a little pocket money, and councelled him. Even while I was doing this, he'd fly into uncontrollable rages, and beat me up, if I accidentally gave him Earl Grey tea, instead of cheap Ty-phoo, or fresh butter, instead of Margarine...which was what he was used to, of course.
Then I taught him how to make clothes pegs, out of Hazel twigs, and fashion flowers out of crepe paper. He now has a thriving business, supplying the whole of Kent with these commodities, door-to-door.
So you see, he's not to be trusted, one little bit. Oh and a word to Miss Ducky. Just watch your step there, or you might find yourself a Duck a l'orange...and Barny, you really do not want to take over his 'Fick' thread. It's like Alice in Wonderland, full of bizarre people, and weird happenings.
Right folks. I hope that's shed some light on this individual, who I see has infested this thread already, with flies and spiders. How uncouth, is that ?
Must be away now. Plane to catch. Don't know what the vernacular in Oz is for Good Day, so I'll just say G'day, cobbers.
Oh and by the way. If you've trying to ring New Scotland Yard, and wondered why you were getting a wrong number, slight typo. Should read Whitehall, and not Whithall. No such place in the entire UK, I'm afraid. Oh you'll have better luck getting a response, if you ask for Mr Holmes. Sherlock.
