help - i'm a prisoner in the chateau d'if

Before I knew what was happening I was seized in the jaws of an enormous beast and dragged screaming into a dungeon. For a moment I thought I was back in the belly of the whale again (see previous posts) but no, I was thrown into a dank and dripping cell with a studded oaken door and a tiny window with rusting irons bars providing the only light.

A pewter plate with a crust of stale bread was flung in after me and then the door slammed shut with a terrible echoing clang.

I've no idea why I'm here or who is keeping me prisoner.

One thing I'm sure of is, I'm not the only unfortunate inmate. There's someone in the next cell, and they're making one heck of a racket.

As I write, they/he/she/it is/are banging away on the wall, causing the mortar to loosen between the....

Oh! Some stones have just come away between me and the next cell and I can now see my neighbour - for some reason he is wearing a strange iron mask. He demolished the wall using his mask/head as a battering ram, so I expect he is in a bit of pain. But he seems quite friendly - and obviously desperate to escape. He's French, I think , says his name is "Louis", and refers to me as "cotelet d'agneau" which worries me slightly as he looks a bit peckish. Oh well, hopefully we will unite our forces at least while we effect our escape and then we'll see what's what. I'm sure I'll be able to fight him off - he looks like a weakling.

Our obvious route would be through the rusting iron grille which covers the tiny window. However it is quite high up and neither of us can reach it. Louis wants to stand on my back while he removes the grille, but then how would I get out? I don't trust him an inch. I've suggested piling up the stones which fell out of the wall, thus creating a makeshift staircase, and he has agred to give this a try. So we're going to be a bit busy for a while.

OH NO!!!!?????

I think I have to think of some key words, fast, to put in here to change the Google ads. - who wants to look at Google ads. for peeing standing up??! Not me! So here goes. Cake. Sausages. Seasonal leafy salad (eh?). Furniture polish. Meerschaum pipe...oh no! that last one's brought back memories of my last sight of the old rocky outcrop, before it was blown to smithereens. Dr Wilson, framed in the window, smoking MY Meerschaum pipe, with its stem a perfect reproduction of the Transantarctic mountains and its bulb an equally perfect Mount Erebus. I know that the pipe had been purloined from the Tupfinder general's vitrine (see previous posts) by Tuppence using his skeleton keys (see previous posts), but I'd come to think of it as my own. Originally I believe it belonged to Sherlock Holmes.
As I was wandering around, lost on the moor in the mist earlier on, it brought to mind Dr Watson's account of The Hound of the Baskervilles. I haven't heard any howling so far, I'm pleased to say, and no large pawprints either - oh no! what's THAT??!!!!!

burnsey and mr spockfingers save me from bright green death

...a bright green...well, as you'll have guessed it was a bog actually, and I was in there for frigging ages. I know you're supposed to jump from clump to clump and avoid the bright green bits, but I slipped and next thing I knew I was up to my oxters in slime and in danger of being sucked under. The way I got out was none too pretty either but at any rate one has to be grateful for small mercies - it could have been worse.
What happened was this.
I got such a fright I was unable to call for help. My throat seized up completely and I began to panic. I knew that if I kicked and struggled I'd make it worse so I stayed still, shut my eyes tight and hoped for the best. It's a strategy that's got me through many a difficult situation.
Sure enough, next thing I knew I was rocketing through the air (again!) and then landed "crump!" (again!) - or should it be "ploof!" on to a fairly acceptably soft patch of turf.
Once I came to, I discovered that what had happened was this. Burnsey and Mr Spockfingers (I still am not clear if they are one and the same) also got lost in the mist and fell into the same bog as me. Suffering badly with wind (as usual) they passed a humungus anal emission which was especially pressing and potent due to shock and between the two of them the sheer power of it created an inverse whirlpool effect which in turn blasted me out of the bog and almost into orbit.
Of course I'm glad to be alive but really - talk about undignified.
I 've just peered over the rim of the crater that was left after the two "petomaines" let rip - what is the name of that place in Africa which is supposed to be the cradle of civilisation? anyway, it looks like that. Burnsey and Mr Spockfingers are grazing away peacefully like two wildebeeste as if nothing had happened.

a hopeful sign then................

I'm managing to keep body and soul together, because I found a half-eaten cherry madeira, still in its Somerfield's cellophane wrapper. This might be a hopeful sign, as it seems to indicate I'm nearing some sort of civilisation - perhaps I'm even getting nearer to the old rocky outcrop.
The mist seems to be thinning a little bit too - it's definitely getting wispier.
I sat down for a while to eat the cherry madeira, but I didn't linger as I'm afraid of developing hypothermia. Now I'm slowly picking my way through a bright green..............

desperate times

Well, I haven't done anything 'cos I simply can't be bothered. I wandered off into the mist and let them get on with it. I've no idea how far I've travelled. Sound gets distorted in the mist. If I strain my ears I can just about hear Mr Spockfingers giving it laldy. But why would I want to do that.
I'm so exhausted, and haven't eaten for days. I'm afraid to lie down, because I won't be able to get back up again. What's to become of me?
I suppose I'll just have to keep going for as long as I can, and hope for rescue.

I Have To DO Something

Mystery solved. Burnsey IS Mr Spockfingers, and A.N. Other is Burnsey, who also wants to be known as Mr Spockfingers. But now I'm wondering - could I be seeing double? not only that, could I be THINKING double?
Anyway I can't trouble myself with trivialities just now. I have to re-orientate myself and try to establish a new rocky outcrop. I have to rebuild my life from the ashes.
The trouble is the mist is still down and until it clears I can't see my way ahead. My two - or is it one? companions are no help at all. They just grin and slap each other on the back as they murder another Harry Lauder number. I can't bear it, it's quite intolerable and I can't concentrate.
It doesn't help that I'm starving either. I need some brain food and would kill for some fishfingers. Kill? would I really? Who really knows what they are capable of until they're tested?
I can't help but think of Tuppence and his smug adherence to veganism (see previous posts) After all that's what got me into this mess. If only he'd not disturbed our comfy old routine. And I wonder how long he'd last here, with nothing to eat and two sturdy cows there for the taking, and a working service revolver in his pocket?
Of course I would never stoop to such...or would I?
"Let's give it laldy Burnsey!" this from Mr Spockfingers. I really can't abide this racket. I'll have to Do Something.

strange companions in the mist

Aaaaaargh! crump! well, that's kind of what I sounded like as I tumbled headlong over a cliff. You'll know from the "crump" sound that I didn't land in the sea - at that point. I landed on a peat hag, and when I rubbed my eyes and my head cleared a bit, I discerned two strange companions, viz. Burnsey and A.N. Other. Well, it looked like Burnsey, but at the same time it didn't, if you know what I mean. Like when you have a dream, and you recognise where you are, but at the same time it's different. Or maybe you're different? who knows. ANYWAY - turns out Burnsey wishes to be known as "Mr Spockfingers" from now on. I've no clue as to why this might be, but I'm wondering if he really is who he says he is? i.e. IS he Burnsey, or is he Mr Spockfingers? And how do I know that he wants this name change? because he hasn't actually said anything verbally - I just seem to have absorbed this information by osmosis.
The mist is still as thick as ever, and my mind is boggling. I'm also starving hungry again and would kill for a decent fry up and a glass or two of madeira in front of the fire at the rocky outcrop. But of course the rocky outcrop was blown to oblivion...I keep forgetting.