Donovan Goldwater Esq.

Donovan Goldwater Esq. AKA 'Shufty Five Fingers', has written to us in what we believe is Swahili with a smattering of English words thrown in for good measure. We commend his efforts and have published the transcription to encourage the poor chap as well as for our readers entertainment:

"Oi Guv'nor!

I had to take some toime to tell ye about a ruckuss I was involved in last fortnight, down past the 'Boil and Pinchers' an your goods saved the day, quick as loightning! Well, I was casing the pad of Lord Pinkerton - of the Fallowwaites clan, if ye'eard of im - in the name of fiduciary lubricity, narmean? Bit of the five fingers all over his estates and a bit of his lady friends' too, I reckon. Jarbles and the loike. Eh? Oh, valuables

So there I was, deep in the halls and whatsits when the bleedin 'Lord' imself came whistling through the door, catching me pretty much knickers-down sort of loike. 'By Jove!' he cried, it's one of those common chaps having a tiddly with the ol' wonkers, what? I tell ya that bushy moustache don't make fer an intimidatin sight to a Halfincher like me, an he musta realized it, so he grabbed one of them cavalry swords, you know, loike they used in the Wuluu uprising on Rourke's IV - a vibro-blade or summit. So, what's a tea leaf, ta do, eh?

I says 'Ello Guvnor, just giving tha jarbles a shine, loike No need to panic, eh, guv?' While he was buyin me line, I had a butchers for a rabbit hole, and in the process me mince pies caught one of your products, a Dr. Grordbort Goliathon 83 barely a few feet from my honourable person. Turns out the old codger was somewhat of a collector of your fine armaments. He had the lot of em! I reckon he might have had a prototype too, natch! Cor!

That bastard 83 is a biggun, eh? And it gave me the willies to shoot it just as it gave Lord Pinkerton the wobbles in getting oscillated with it! I think the Goliathon is the very essence of fear what with capacitance tubes and volumizer duckets and what have ya. Beamed straight to infinity, I'd say! After the thunderclappin, wurblin 'ooooOOOOOOooooo-ZOOOIIINKKK' sound it made, I din't wanta say hello to the Runners, so I toodled quick as yer loike, leaving Pinkerton's smoking boots standing in the study. Har! So I says to ye, your fine armaments made me the man I am today!

From that good man's collection, I kept something a bit more manageable - that darling lil man-melter fits under me smock nice, ye know for on the job use, and flogged the rest in the name of charity, namely me. My many thanks to ya Dr. Grordbort, and may the sun shoine out ya khyber, if ya narmean?"