It is clear what has happened. Squirrel has been placing the Continental cutter's choice in the filter of the fish tank. The fish have in turn become overcome with the joys of mother nature and grown wings. They have then escaped out the open window and landed themselves in the gutter in the style of a true hoon.

Upon finding that some joker had stolen his fish Sqrl started to investigate the strange happenings at 6 St George's Ave. He started at the bottom and worked his way up. The kitchen and lounge were both fruitless bar the mouldy apples.

Then Sqrl happened upon an idea so clever that he just had to see if it would work. So risking life and limb he climbed from the safety of the landing out of the window near Rich's room and flipped himself on to the gutter in true Graham style. It was only then that he realised that the rod was in the garage and that fishing cannot occur without the said rod.

Eventually after much clambering and climbing Sqrl finally reached his destination the roof where he could fish a plenty all afternoon.

OK, I'm sorry, it was me.

At 5.30, when everybody was leaving work, I rubbed my ginger beauties and spawned a huge pair of glorious wings. I flew out of the nearest window, and home at the speed of light. I landed on her roof where I did a little Irish jig, then I got out my rod and started fishing in her gutter.

Just then I heard her opening her door so I leaped on the back of a Giant Pig, flew twice around the block before dashing into our house, closing the door behind me just as she came out. I then nipped back to work to do an hour's overtime before catching the bus home.