The courtroom was a vast space interspersed by dark wooden beams that crisscrossed the unreachable ceiling and crept down the walls in an orderly fashion. Though the wood was of a gloomy tint, upon further inspection you could see that the years and the vicious legal battles had clearly had a lasting impact upon the colour, leaving it with a fade that yearned for a lick of paint. The foreboding woodwork wasn't the only thing that was hanging over the now clamouring spectators in the gallery area. The mood suspended over the positively drooling voyeurs, a malevolent taint was in the air and was growing with every minute they waited for the unlucky soul about to be led through the imposing oak double doors.

Picture the scene; I was ambling along my routine days path, sipping on a jug of gravy whilst ruminating on whether or not I could get away clean from a heist on Piebury Corner, when an unremarkable man clad in a trenchcoat and shades sat next to me. I was startled but my needy nature meant I was more than pleased to finally have a companion to exchange opinions with and train my hamster army. The clandestine man put a briefcase on the table, the metal clasps snapping open efficiently. He removed a padded envelope with no markings on it whatsoever. It was at this time the enigma uttered his only words. "The Red Fox only consumes the contents of a single wheelie bin". With this, he closed the case, stood up sharply and left the scene abruptly, rendering me quizzical but also slightly sad that my potential Sargeant of the 1st Corps of Hamsters had gone. What might have been.