Down the Tubes
To: Marjorie Bathsheba Catheter Jodrell-Bentley
Subject: A Right Royal Disaster
Bathsheba,
Fret not nor fear! I shall reveal all.
Sadly Regis House was something of a non-starter. The security guards, whilst subdued by the results of Miss Twigham’s home-dentistry, eventually recovered and tracked us to the basement where Miss Twigham was attempting to break into the station access shaft.
Now I for one am not familiar with this “lant-water” which was part of the explosive but the blast proved singularly ineffective. Thankfully the fumes were enough to sedate the guards completely whilst we made good our escape.
We then resorted to my backup plan and gained access to London Bridge by breaking in through the old station entrance nearby. Miss Twigham then prized open one of the ventilation panels on the northbound platform and – by means of a rope fashioned from the hairs found in her plughole – we swung ourselves into the approach tunnel for King William Street and hauled the panel shut behind us.
I can only assume we arrived sometime after you had made your escape since the area was in some state of disarray and the growling and shuddering were quite terrible to behold.
Worryingly, Miss Twigham was more affected. She seemed quite petrified by the slightest sound and I ended up pursuing her as she fled back down the tunnels. Finally a ghastly howl resounded forth and, distracted, she fell through the ventilation panel and down onto the platform, bruising the coxae of an unfortunate cleaner below.
At this we were discovered by the London Underground officials and the police were called. Although it is true we were taken away in order to assist them in their enquiries, they felt it best not to enquire too much and let us go in the wee small hours.