The Agony and The Agony

I slipped down the stairs this morning twisting my hip and turning me instantly into a shuffling old man. I can blame no one. Both Miss Dover and Mr Pig had alibis for the time of the accident. As a result I was unable to attend the screening of one of my films in London tonight. I was due to give an introduction to The Treasurehouse of Bloody Morgan. It would have been a short introduction, very short, but I still feel guilty that I am not giving it. Instead I have spent most of the day acting as cushion to Mr Pig and her claws. She has settled in very well to her new lodgings spending most of her time reclining in various locations. However, every now and then, she disappears into the basement studio to fulfil her perverted desires. Mr Pig is addicted to cobweb eating. We often turn around to find her with innocent expression but covered head to foot in the evidence of her depravity. Miss Dover's sister once had a lodger with similar ways, although she often returned home to find him strapped to a cross and covered in chocolate.



We have created a small museum in our front room. Mr Pig hasn't noticed it. Yet.