All of Twillingsgate is agog at the News. The famous poet Malcolm Buggeroll, the "Poet of the
Highlands" was caught en flagrante delicto in the drawing room of the Hoarsbottom mansion, one
of the most prestigious residences in the upscale end of what is certainly an upscale town,
consorting with none other than Madeline Hoarsbottom, the lady of the house, Priscilla
Hoarsbottom-Spencer, her cousin from Hull, two domestic servants, a gamekeeper, and a sheep!
And we have photos, purportedly snapped by none other than Winston Wellington-Jones, scion of
the Wellington-Joneses, one of Twillingsgate's finest families.

"I had suspected...no, I had known for some time that Buggeroll was up to no good," commented
Wellington-Jones, "but not even my darkest suspicions prepared me for the scene of utter
depravity with which I was confronted on the evening of June 4rth. It is my wont to go for
lengthy evening walks when the weather is good, in order to stretch my legs and exercise the
cardiovascular system. I was passing by the Hoarsbottom mansion when I heard what sounded
like a damsel in distress, along with other sounds that I could not identify, but which suggested
some sort of violent confrontation. I vaulted over the wall that surrounds the property and made
my way quickly to the nearest window from which these sounds were emanating Imagine my
horror at the scene of unbridled licentiousness that I observed through that window! Without
going into details, I will simply say that it involved Malcolm Buggeroll, the ladies Hoarsbottom,
the gamekeeper Gridley (who is employed by the Hoarsbottoms), two servants, and an
unfortunate sheep...all of them engaged in, shall I say, unnatural acts of various kinds...together.
All of them were in the nude, including the sheep."

"I had to act fast, because I knew two things...one, that the pervert, Buggeroll had to be stopped
once and for all...and two, that no one would believe me unless I had undeniable proof of his vile
doings. Fortunately, I had my camera handy, with flash (I had been planning to photograph the
moon, as it was a particularly clear night)...and immediately snapped three photos of the horrified
participants. This precipitated a frightful row! The ladies became hysterical, the gamekeeper
seized an antique spear and attempted to kill me with it (shattering the window in the process),
the servants and the gamekeeper then fled, and the sheep bolted for the kitchen, dragging Mr.
Buggeroll helplessly in its wake, screaming foul obscenities...Mr. Buggeroll was, I mean, not the
sheep. The lights then went out."

"I could see that my presence was not welcome at the Hoarsbottom's, so I excused myself and
made to leave by the front entrance, but was confronted there by the despicable Mr. Buggeroll,
breathing heavily, and clad only in a raincoat which he had hastily donned. He demanded the
photos. I refused to surrender them. He then offered me 5,000 pounds on the spot for the photos
and the camera. I again refused, saying "Now, you indecent devil, you are going to pay for
corrupting the gentry of this fair town!" At that point the cad made as if to seize the camera, and
I gave him a quick right and a left which landed him unceremoniously in the nearest flowerbed and
went home, where I poured myself a stiff drink."

Wellington-Jones turned the photos over to the Twillingsgate police station the following day, as
well as copies to the Twillingsgate Herald, along with a full statement of the shocking event
which has turned the town on its ear. Malcom Buggeroll has an enthusiastic following of poetry-
lovers here, as well as throughout the English-speaking world.

We were able to reach Mr. Buggeroll today for his comments on the incident.

"That fellow, Wellington-Jones, has long harboured a vicious hatred for me, based entirely upon
envy," stated Buggeroll, "And has been concocting the most fantastic stories from his lurid
imagination. There is absolutely no truth to his ludicrous allegations, and I should think he ought
to be arrested for trespassing, property damage, and assault. The fact is, Lady Hoarsbottom had
requested that I perform an old Celtic ceremony, a purification ceremony, in order to brace up her
cousin's fragile health. These ancient ceremonies have their own particular formalities, which I
am not at liberty to fully divulge at this time, because the ordinary public does not understand
such things, and it is my sworn duty to guard the secret cultural treasures of England's past and
not reveal all."

We were then moved to inquire as to whether any of those formalities involved nudity...

"In some cases, yes," admitted Mr. Buggeroll, "but only nudity of an entirely chaste and non-
suggestive sort, of course."

What exactly was the nature of the sheep's role in the proceedings, we inquired?

"The sheep, Millie, is a beloved pet and longtime companion of mine," declared Buggeroll, "and it
is the most scurrilous assertion of all by that despicable Wellington-Jones to suggest that anything
improper was happening. I am as incapable of abusing animals as I would be of abusing an
innocent young woman or a child. It's unthinkable! When this matter is cleared up, I will sue
Wellington-Jones for every penny he has!"

What about the photos, we asked?

"Photos can be faked," snapped Mr. Buggeroll angrily, "And I ask you this: what was Winston
Wellington-Jones doing out in the middle of the night, creeping into other people's yards with a
camera? Well? What do you think? Does he habitually go for walks at 2 AM with a loaded
camera and flash? I don't think so, unless he is a peeping tom! This has all the markings of a
deliberately conceived plot, an entrapment. Mark my words, he will rue the day he impugned the
moral standing of Malcolm Buggeroll!"

And there it stands. One thing for sure, the fair folk of Twillingsgate will have something to talk
about this summer!

- Pruella Tattle, for the Twillingsgate Herald