A Spot Of Bother

Released: 12th December 2005
Size: 109 KB
Reviews: 2 reviews to date
Genre: comedy/puzzlefest

Introduction
You are Stavros 'The Bulldog' McGrogan, the hardest man the SAS ever produced. While it's perhaps untrue to say that bullets bounce from your skull, daggers bend when stabbed into your ribs and bombs just plain run away from you, it is true to say that you once disarmed a terrorist by tearing his arm off with your teeth and then cracking his head (through his shock resistant armour) with your nose. You're mean, nasty, vicious and downright tough. They call you in when someone needs dealing with quickly and painfully. When terrorists threaten the safety of the world, they send out a message for The Bulldog. And may God forgive any terrorist who doesn't get out of your way…

So it's perhaps understandable that when you get the call to visit a small cottage in the charming part of the English countryside known as Pleasant Woods, you're a little surprised. When you see it's an actual cottage, surrounded on all sides by other cottages, and not a disguised terrorist base, you're even more surprised. But that doesn't prepare you for your briefing with Sergeant Twiddles…

”Yes,” says the Sergeant, fiddling with his moustache as he strokes his small black and white cat. “We're in a spot of bother and no mistake.”

You grunt. (You are a man of few words after all.)

”It's old Mrs Moog, you see,” Twiddles goes on. His cat emits a purr of satisfaction. “She's only gone and fainted due to the sudden heat wave we're experiencing. Frightful business.”

You grunt. (The grunt says: “and you called me here to tell me some old dear has passed out?”)

”Mrs Moog,” Twiddles goes on, “is head of our Nuclear Research Facility.”

You nod. You remember the name now. 112 years old, can barely walk, half blind, three quarters deaf, likes coffee creams and cats, mad as a bat… and yet a dab hand at constructing nuclear devices capable of tearing the world apart a dozen times over.

”She was working on a crucial design for a new bomb,” Sergeant Twiddles says. He frowns. “And then when she didn't show up at work today, we decided to go ahead without her. Only that's when we hit a slight problem.”

You frown. (This is your other mode of expression. It works as well as a grunt but is more visual than verbal.)

”You see, nuclear bombs are complicated things,” explains Twiddles. “Mrs Moog is great at them. Her staff… well, they're not quite so great. Or 'useless' might be a better term to apply to them.”

Grunt.

”Yes. I agree. Anyway… her staff went on without her and started a… what's the word?” Twiddles fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. “Ah yes. A 'nuclear meltdown'. Apparently if the nuclear reactor isn't shut down in the next six hours, it'll explode and blow the world to pieces. Or split it in half. Or turn it into one great big lump of burning rock floating through space. Whatever. It'll be a trifle unpleasant around here.”

Frown.

”Yes, you've got it in one,” says Twiddles. “We need you to get into Mrs Moog's house and get her out of there in one piece. Only there's a slight problem with that.”

You figured there might be. After all, they don't call The Bulldog in unless there's a problem.

”Mrs Moog is paranoid about security,” says Twiddles, “and has rigged her house up with the most fiendish collection of anti-burglary and anti-theft devices known to man. I've sent in four men already and…” He nods to a bucket off to one side of him, in which can be seen what looks suspiciously like an arm. “Well, it wasn't very nice. So we need you, Mr Bulldog, to head in there and- ugh!”

You lean forward and say, “it's The Bulldog. Not Mr Bulldog.” Then you smile coldly and release his throat.

Time, you decide, you got to work.